I don’t even know where to start with this dude. Bro is so heavy, when he steps on a scale, it says, “TO BE CONTINUED.” Every time he walks by, I swear I feel a gust of wind, like gravity itself is begging for a break. NASA is probably tracking him right now because he’s screwing with the Earth’s orbit. He’s not fat—he’s a geological event.

Don’t even get me started on his chair. How is it still alive? That thing is a war hero at this point, holding on for dear life, bolts screeching like they’re in a Michael Bay movie. He doesn’t “sit,” he descends. You ever see a black hole? That’s what happens when Matthew tries to wear jeans. His thighs are out here rewriting physics textbooks.

MatthewIDK eats like he’s in a food apocalypse. No survivors. Plates cleared. Buffets fear him. This man could inhale an entire pizza and call it a warm-up. I once asked him how much he weighed, and he said, “It depends—before or after dinner?” Like bro, you’re the reason the dinosaurs went extinct because you ate their food supply.

Honestly, Matthew, you don’t need a diet. You need urban planning. At this point, just declare yourself a state and start charging taxes. Absolute unit.