Beneath all the bluff and bluster about his own superiority Bob knows how pathetic he is. He is a cishet white man, but he's also a cishet white man with rotting feet, high blood sugar, enough blubber to feed an entire village of Eskimos for years and his entire cultural outlook is refracted through a single fucking video game that, while venerable among hobbyists, is decades old and one part of a much larger franchise that has by and large moved on. He hates himself for his multitude of failures, and he projects that self hatred onto those like himself.
He is, in a way, a tragic and pathetic creature.