This is the reason for all the suicide baiting as of late. He can see the rest of his life laid bare, and he doesn't like what he sees. Streaming every waking hour to a dwindling audience, having to wring every last penny out his most servile paypiggies. His disgust and contempt for them grows with each haranguing, while screams from his colicky baby pierce the hazy veil of prescription drugs in which he's swathed himself.
Rebranding is not an option for him. He is, and always will be, Ethan Oliver Ralph of the Killstream. What was once a point of pride, is now an albatross around his neck. Nothing more than a sideshow on a flailing streaming service. He couldn't get a real job if he tried. The only employment that would be available to him would be the sort of sympathy job you'd give a literal retard; wiping down tables or mopping up vomit for a handful of pesos.
If his financial straits ever cause an interruption in his steady supply of Mexican pharmaceuticals, he might get desperate enough to try pressuring Pantsu into performing in a donkey show (she is his mare, after all). It sounds too deranged to believe, but we've all seen how he treats her... parading her in front of his personal army of incels to be mocked and humiliated; a sad piƱata busted open for their amusement, her last remaining shreds of dignity scattered about to be picked at by his audience of greedy children.
It's the sort of thing that might eventually cause Pantsu to come to her senses, and finally call Harry to rescue her and the baby. When that day comes, Ralph will truly be at the end of his rope, but I don't think he'll ever have the courage to actually follow through on his not-so-subtle threats of ending it all. At least, not by himself. He might try suicide-by-cartel... tune-up a prostitute, or look askance at the wrong person, and let nature take its course. However it happens, Josh's soothsaying about Ralph not making it to the end of the year (and Jim outliving him) seems to come closer to fruition with each passing day.