If you believed that Wade Wilson’s life could not possibly be more disordered, this infographic proves that you haven’t been keeping up. It depicts a man in terminal self-destruct mode who, even incarcerated, appeals to a ridiculous array of personalities that would make any daytime television executive green with envy. And that’s the shallow part of it. What’s beneath the surface of this untidy scenario is a bundle of serious issues begging for resolution. At least in narrative terms. Let us unpack the absurdity.
Season One: The Clout Chasers
At the pinnacle of this convoluted batty structure is the origin story of Wade Wilson’s fan club of derangement. Before his confinement, Wilson somehow enchanted Courtnie Lozada and others, really, into his gravitational field. Was it loopy magnetism or their own longing for the limelight that made these women slap Wilson’s name all over social media? Because that, after all, is the quintessence of the good-press-bad-press narrative.
Next, we can consider “Jesus saved me to be a clout chaser.” This line alone deserves its own anthropological study. These women beheld a blood-stained antihero and thought, I can fix him. Spoiler: they couldn’t, but they did initiate a cult of personality that seems not the least bit fazed by reason.
Season 1.5: Post-Arrest Bedlam
Once Wilson swapped his swords for prison bars; the three-part mini-series from here to the end escalated. Enter Krustin Morton, Joey Delgado, and Jules Vasquez, a motley crew of opportunists, seekers of fame, and apparent delusional figures. Each of them brought their own blend of dysfunction, from the bizarre flattery that makes Joey a “femicide enthusiast” to Bonnie Wiggins, whose astonishing vibe commitment to a “career mule” is frankly hard to reconcile.
Peak absurdity was reached with Bre’z Morrell, an individual so caught up in this circus that her death in February 2024 could now be used as a cautionary tale. If you play with fire with Wade Wilson, you will get burned.
Support Group or Dumpster Fire?
By Season 2, the mess began to metastasize. A group of women, April Derby, Jesse Tehonica, and Valerie, among others, came together in what can only be termed the world’s worst support group. Instead of tackling the elephant in the room (Wade’s violence), they directed their efforts toward defending him in online spaces and, like rabid dogs, attacking each other.
And let’s not forget Kaleigh Tehonica’s input: “Should’ve stayed out of it.” A rare moment of clarity, but still not enough to pull her out of mad times.
Season 2b: The International Fan Club of Lunacy
The “international fan club” took the insanity to a global level. This is where it goes from a localized train wreck to a worldwide dumpster fire. Amanda Trela, Brooke Hickerson, and Dolly Whelean took their devotion to new, absurd, and embarrassing heights. They undertook all sorts of shaming, begging, and pleading to try and get the video taken down. Most of this effort consists of the already poor social media presence of Amanda Trela, Brooke Hickerson, and Dolly Whelean getting worse as the days go on. By this point, however, most of these women had already been banned from fan spaces. Not for a lack of loyalty, mind you; their behavior crossed even the most flexible of lines that fanatics don’t cross.
Season 3: Brazilian Chaos and the Unholy Alliance
The third act presented the “Deranged Brazilian Fan Club,” a collection of women whose blind devotion to Wade rivaled that of the original clout chasers. This group took things up a notch, spamming online platforms with messages that defended Wilson and attacked anyone who dared to speak ill of him. Jeanny, Alessandra Maker, and TikTok personalities like @dryk@rmy turned their obsession with Wilson into a full-time job.
And then there’s Aline Regina, whose presence adds another layer of mystifying allegiance. These women aren’t merely standing up for Wilson, they’re prostrating themselves on his behalf, undergoing public degradation with the sincerity of a sports team that knows it has no shot at the title but is nevertheless going all out for the championship.
Season 4: Cartwheels in Court and the Final Meltdown
When we arrive at the latest chapter, the drama has become a full-blown farce. “Cartwheels in the courtroom” might sound like a circus act, but in Wilson’s world, it’s just Tuesday. Characters like Jennette Mauss and Monica Morrow continue to uphold his crumbling empire, despite a pile of evidence suggesting they’re backing a sinking ship.
Monica Morrow’s “greasy” look and Gloria Morrow’s “catfish incubator” role culminate in an appearance by these two that reinforces what we already know: These women are willing to go to ludicrous lengths to defend the indefensible. Meanwhile, Cynthia and Yennifer are upping their game, showing us that Morrow and her ilk are now trapped in a serious delusional spread.
A Lesson in Absurdity
What we’re witnessing here isn’t just a story about Wade Wilson. It’s a case study in how charisma and chaos ensnare vulnerable, fame-hungry individuals. Wade isn’t a hero or even an antihero, he’s a black hole, embodying everything that’s too close for comfort, and sucking in anyone foolish enough to get too close. Every last individual involved in this fiasco, from the clout chasers to the fans who’ve lost their minds, believes they are beyond special. They think they’ve got the secret decoder ring that opens Wade’s heart, not recognizing that Wade’s only allegiance is to the enormous ego in the mirror.
The true irony? They vigorously defend Wade, but Wade’s likely sitting in his jail cell, laughing at how effortlessly he makes people with his saving complex ruin their lives. The irony here is thicker than winter morning molasses. Wade is a man who has wielded power through violence and unyielding domination. He has left a trail of destruction, both physical and emotional, behind him. Yet, inside the cold, hard walls of justice, the tables have turned. He is no longer the predator, but the prey, and his tormentors are women which is the very people he has often dismissed as collateral damage during his bloody sun-up-to-sundown reign of terror. It is almost poetic.
Wade Wilson might make it through the Big House but the combination of his physical and mental scars are bound never to heal, just as the world isn’t going to get any better after having Wade in it for a time. Wade Wilson is, after all, a walking contradiction. A clown prince of carnage who can’t quite escape the punchline of his own existence. And really, when you think about it, that might be the only justice Wade will ever truly know.
