If we didn't know better, we'd have to conclude that Bottomfeeders seethes with contempt for all of creation. For animals, surely—contempt for animals is, after all, the watchword among suicidefoodists—but for their human customers as well. You are what you eat? Indeed. Now, imagine that a coworker asked you: "How would you like to go to Bottomfeeders with us, you insignificant garbage-eater?" Would you accept with gratitude? For our part, we are insulted even imagining such an invitation!
Or is there, perhaps, a different definition of bottomfeeder, one of which we are unaware? A complimentary one? Well, wait. The website of Bottomfeeders (the restaurant, not the gang of garbage-eaters) does attempt to convince us that they intend this other sense when they use the word: "A well-treated customer." Well, that's that. Feel better?
(While we're dicussing the nuances of bottomfeeder, we should point out that Urban Dictionary weighs in as well, with these definitions: "A lazy, drunk, pot-smoking loser who can't hold down a job" and "Delusional follower and parasite.")
Onomastics aside, we are left with the unfortunate image of that unholy hybrid, that… that… Chiggish. This is the most unwholesome animal mash-up we've seen since the Porcrab.
This chicken-pig-fish amalgam represents Bottomfeeder's dearest wish, that they could kill three different animals with one chop. Doing it one-at-a-time is sheer tedium. If only science would get with the program and make the Chiggish a reality.