I eat because I'm unhappy, and I'm unhappy because I eat.

Normally, it'd go like "I eat because I'm unhappy, and I'm unhappy because I eat", if you were Hollywood menace Fat Bastard from Austin Powers. But in reality it's more like "I'm unhappy because I eat. I eat because some idiot keeps feeding me three chickens a day".

So the local news over here in Puerto Rico had something newsworthy for a change, some two weeks ago our own fat 900-pound bastard, Carlos Collazo, died. Apparently, as the newspapers' headlines indicated, it was lack of medical attention that got him to bite the dust. Here's how the story goes, the article states that in 1990 he suffered some kind of "electric discharge", which brought upon him "several skin conditions". Now I don't know of any skin conditions that turn you into walking lard, and unless electricity causes elephantiasis (which I am unaware of), I doubt it has anything to do with the story.

Then, his father died, which sent into some weird depression that makes you a glutton and gain 200 pounds.

Now we fast-forward, the newspaper meets up with Carlos on May 2008, one month after being confined to a bed (oh the anguish!) and a breathing apparatus which is something you'd expect, because he's at a whopping 740 pounds!

He needed to lose 200 more pounds in order to get a bariatric surgery, that was enough to inspire him to do something besides sulking like a ball-less Hungry Hungry Hippo. In three months he was practically halfway there, he had lost 81 pounds, not exactly a human, he managed to move around without a forklift for a while. He suffered some relapses, went back to doing what he did best, eating like there was no tomorrow, until he went OVER 9000 over 900 pounds!

Then he died.

Mother, brother, relatives, all disgusted. Not because they left one of them die in such a shameless way, hell no. They're pissed at the hospital for not having a freezer designed for manatees. Because the staff told them to take him as soon they could because he would rot there, so they got all butt-hurt.

The rest is a blur, the newspaper report is so vague it's amazing, it features an absurdly huge picture of Snorlax's face, leaving barely enough room for the poorly redacted "facts". So I go to the online version, to get a bit more info, unfortunately I could only dig only more details about something so humiliating, it's PURE WIN! What happened AFTER he died!

A special coffin had to be made, it was 5 feet wide, 9 feet long, why you could add wheels and park it next to a 1992 Hummer and no one would tell the difference, unless someone decides check the oil. So this coffin did not fit in the funeral home, it did not fit in the funeral car and it was close to not fitting in Puerto Rico. Ideas were thrown back and forth, and they decided on using a flatbed truck.

After gathering up a multitude of curious onlookers that were having a great laugh, as anyone with a brain would, out of this travesty, the coffin met up with some small diggers and ropes that were to lift and descent it, putting an end to this shitty story.

But Snorlax fell out of his Pokéball.

The family wept. And wept and wept. I would too, if I belonged to that idiotic family. After almost an hour they got him to sit the fuck down, never to be seen again. At last!

So now, the moral(s) of the story.

  • When a parent dies, you're supposed to get over it, I know it ain't easy. But you have to, unless you plan to die of sadness like Padmé Amidala. You're NOT supposed to gain hundreds of pounds.

  • You shouldn't have incompetent family members that feed you your own weight every day. Let's face it, the people at fault, for making this more humiliating than it had to be besides Carlos himself, was the family. Especially that cunting mother. You don't fight obesity with food, I'm sure he wouldn't have gained the first 200 pounds eating vegetables.

  • Another point, the whole "skin conditions" crap is to add insult to injury, emphasizing on the drama factor. No mention of the skin conditions were made in the rest of the article, newspaper or online.

  • By losing 81 pounds at one point, proved that he DID have the power to end this shit.

  • Last but not least, the hospital have nothing to do in this story, although it claims the health system in this country ignored The Blob's stunt double for 15 years, that it does not have the appropiate equipment for treating morbidly obese patients because they're "in it for the money".

Look cunt faces, we're already in deep enough shit without wasting money on expensive equipment that will only be used for treating useless human beings IF EVER. It's fun to eat like a retard until you can't walk and then go blaming it on other people, isn't it?

Want to bitch and point fingers? Do it, raise your mighty arm, stick out your index finger in threatning fashion, but be sure to place yourself in front of a mirror. It's your own damn fault you're fat, it's your own fault you eat without remorse, it's your fault you eventually lose a battle that YOU started. Your fault, no one else's.

I hope more idiots like these die, maybe it'll educate other aspiring morons to keep their mouths shut.