These pigs shoot the animal from a moving car, then their “guides” get out and start carving up trophy pieces for these scum to hold for photos.
The haunted look in Junior’s eyes in this photo is a combination of Coke, Adderall, and a crushing desire for the approval of literally anyone of actual value. The old money elite and wealthy scions of tech fortunes look down on him and his family as grifters and carnies. Almost all the normal people he meets see him and his brother as pathetic, wheedling little turds. The only people who give him the adulation he craves are trashy imbeciles best suited for a town hall meeting in an episode of Parks and Recreation, which he hates, because they are the exact opposite of the people he so desperately wants to like him. And that seethes in him like an ulcer, which is why he always looks sweaty and uncomfortable.
He attaches himself like a barnacle to the media brand of the very malignant narcissist who created this ceaseless hunger for approval in the first place, all in hopes that if he can’t have respect, at least he can be on television. But even that doesn’t work, because the moment the man who raped his mother got unceremoniously escorted out of an office he didn’t work a day in in four years, Junior’s phone stop ringing, and less and less people care about whatever nonsense he has to say.
He is overshadowed by his prettier, media savvy sister, and he is secretly jealous of the fact their father wants to fuck her, because at least she gets his attention.
So, he goes on a trip and wears khakis someone provided for him and holds up a trophy someone cut for him while holding a knife that your grandpa wouldn’t use to peel apples. And the cycle repeats.