As Fatso's marina-dwelling homosexual brother must have done, too. All the successful shoreline communities can then smell the stink of Alan's festering bed sores, summer day's dead rat-like BO & pus-oozing, rotten flesh & excrementous odoriferous, putrid sickening breath.
At least the brothers weren't pedophiles, like the childish, unsuccessful Alan.
Alan never told us about what happened when the FBI searched his bare bones computer for the kiddie porn stash, nor what happened when the dads in his low-rent 'hood called the cops on the Westchester Molester.
Alan's mom was glad that none of her sons reproduced, but especially Fatso, the ugly, smelly, defective duckling who turned into an even uglier, smellier, more repulsive vulture. The pervert returned the favor by shortening her & his aunt's lives for their dough.
Catching Alan with the blow-up doll was the last straw for mom. That's when she kicked the fifty year-old bum out of her house. Fatso has always been so hideous that he as never had sex with a human except in exchange for money.