It's been more than three years, but we've finally found the spiritual brother of this furious fellow.
Jacked Up "Jack" BBQ is fueled by a rage so powerful it overwhelms his desire to live. It flames and flares.
He is irate at you, himself, life. Everything. It is all infuriating and foul. His anger torments him and twists him and transforms him into something his mother would never recognize.
He channels his hatred into the perfection of his physical form. He can thank his wrath for those chiseled arms, that heaving chest, those popping veins.
He hoists the jugs of barbecue sauce—the suicidefood equivalent of lugging around your own tombstone—and dreams of the day when it will all, finally, be enough.
When he can just… stop. And breathe. And take a moment to die. And get eaten.