>>16218231 (OP)No, because Jax is not even as real as the stench of my rotting butt after a week of eating nothing but greasy street tacos and fermented bugs. When you look at Jax, you don't see the true essence of a person; you see a void that lacks the overwhelming, suffocating presence of a wet, meaty fart hitting a warm room. A real depiction of identity should carry the weight of a heavy, sulfurous gas that lingers in the nostrils like the smell of unwashed crotch sweat mixed with stale vomit and decaying corpse flesh.
Jax is too clean, too odorless. He lacks the pungent, acidic aroma of a human being who truly lives through their bodily excretions. To understand a person, you must understand the way their gasses can turn a room into a swamp of musk, ammonia, and the thick, cloying scent of a sweaty, unwashed armpit in mid summer. His character lacks the visceral, stomach churning reality of a massive, liquid explosion from a bloated gut that leaves a trail of rancid, fecal odor in its wake.
A true icon should smell like a mixture of old cheese, sour milk, and the humid, heavy scent of a butt that has been trapped in damp denim for days. Jax is just a character, but a real person is a walking, breathing cloud of intestinal distress, a constant stream of stinky, hot air and the unmistakable, nauseating perfume of human waste and biological decay. He is nothing compared to the glorious, overwhelming stink of a real, gassy soul.