The Big Guy (who is dying but more slowly than expected) will check out much sooner than it appears at the moment.
He's around sixty, he's about a hundred pounds overweight, and his exercise is limited to chewing mini-tacos.
His ticker is a ticking time bomb, primed to explode at any moment.
Even if his alleged brain rot is real (and it probably isn't - he's a DUmmy and DUmmies lie, all the time) it's moving far too slowly to get the job done before his heart blows out.
He's like a semi-literate version of the Las Vegas Leviathan, and we all remember what happened there.