Some knew him as The King. Others called him The Great Bambino. Or The Man That Invented Rock and Roll, The White Savior Of Music, or The Best White Guy.

Yes, Elvis Presley had many nicknames, and many different sounds, but unfortunately his life was cut short by an unfortunate dumping accident in which he took too huge of a shit and had a heart attack, dying at the very young age of 42. With such an iconic legacy, the memory of Elvis, like his ass, will never be wiped.

Throughout his brief time on this Earth, Elvis showed us that one white man could single handedly and double chindedly change the way people think about popular music. With almost no creative inputs beyond his steady diet of peanut butter and bacon sandwiches, Elvis Presley created Rock and Roll music from scratch, like a recipe that uses every ingredient in the pantry, and he consumed it with the voracious appetite of a recently liberated holocaust survivor.

Whether he was telling us about his famous heated argument with a dog in “You Aint Nothing But A Hound Dog,” or enrapturing his audiences with his hit song about his “Blue Suede Shoes,” (they’re blue, btw, and he would wear them) Elvis Presley knew how to change minds with his incredibly insightful, original music.

But the most notable detail of Elvis life wasn’t his music, it was his explosively fat weight gain towards the end of it. Some say that Elvis’ advanced weight contributed to his poor health, and by extension, his death. But if The Fat Acceptance Movement has taught us anything, it’s that Elvis’s weight gain was probably indicative of improved health, and wide Elvis was most likely in better ‘shape’ than younger, patriarchally-sexier thigh-gap Elvis.

In fact, if Elvis hadn’t have died, if we assume his weight gain would have continued at it’s steady, healthy pace of 25lbs per month, the King of Rock and Rolls would today top the scales at roughly 8000 lbs. Wow! Think about how healthy and good he would have looked! Think about how much we would be accepting him!

Unfortunately, despite what conspiracy theorists have to say, he is no longer with us. So we must remember him for what he was: a not fat enough man who could have been much fatter and much more acceptable and brave. God speed, you bloated crooner, may you gain so much weigh in the afterlife that your fat beautiful ass falls from heaven, returns to Earth, and saves us from the vapidity of contemporary rock.