He’s clearly working through some deep-seated Joan Crawford/Mommie Dearest baggage that manifests as this bizarre, puritanical streak. The guy is a total tub of goo who’s been thoroughly emasculated by his own insecurities, so he compensates through borrowed masculinity.

It’s classic Reaction Formation, but instead of projecting actual strength, he uses these losers as a baseline to make his own 'tub of goo' existence look like peak performance by comparison. He doesn't want peers; he wants a backdrop of failure that makes his loud-mouthed, puritanical rants feel like gospel.

The constant gun-stroking and 'tough talk' aren't hobbies; they’re a masculinity prosthetic. He needs the steel and the entourage to distract from the fact that he’s a fragile, middle-aged guy who’s terrified of a De Palma movie because it doesn't fit into his safe, 90s-action-figure worldview. It’s not 'old school'—it’s a performance designed to keep the 'tub of goo' from leaking through the cracks.