I mean, you're not wrong. Part of it is altruism. Part of it is a deeply Machiavellian understanding that couching things in terms of "I'm here to help" tends to be more effective than couching things in terms of "quit being a slacker slob you fat fuck." And either way, making the effort may not bear fruit at this point but it may shorten the delay until it does. And honestly? It's easier for me to have the discussion if I'm trying to help someone else than simply get my way.
I'm also thinking of the practicalities here... what is the conversation going to look like? What words will you use? Because, he knows everything you are going to say to him. He does. His dandruff. His plates. His eating habits. His fat-fuck-ed-ness. He knows all that, and it defeats him, and inaction is all he "deserves", so it is what he does. What you do every single day - ride 1,000 miles through East LA, each way, to get to work - is more than he could possibly contemplate. You also lube your chain. Adjust brake cable tension. You can actually bend all the way over and get to the chain. You have a lovely wife and adorable daughter, and a job that pays well. You, in short, are the problem. You are everything he is not. And there is just no way at all I can see him hearing the words coming out of your mouth as anything other than reinforcing his existing uselessness. THAT's going to be the filter that all your words come through as they go into his ears... "This guy has EVERYTHING, and hates me for being a slob." Again, I LOVE that you want to help this dude out. Your heart is in the right place, my friend. But he is not where he can hear you. There are some people who float away from the dock in a boat with no oars... and you just gotta let them go until they decide to learn to swim.
Oh I had it all mapped out in my head. Talking points, turns of phrase, everything. The idea was that when I actually had to confront the fucker there would be some form of discussion because that's what friends do, right? And I mean, we've had lengthy discussions about... all sorts of shit. But no. Not a word. Apparently my mistake of leaving a candle burning for the two hours nobody was home means our transgressions are equivalent so he feels A-OK about, well, everything. I was struck last night that by the time Hillary Clinton is no longer president, I will be fifty. It occurred to me this morning that by the time Hillary Clinton is no longer president, he could be dead.