I am mildly wary of every person obsessed with the film American Psycho, adapted from a novel written by Bret Easton Ellis, and the main character, the compulsively homocidal Patrick Bateman. Hopefully the attraction is more focused on the genius of actor Christian Bale, but one can never be too sure.
Something I find really ironic (although I hesitate to use this word due to its excessive overuse, something I contribute to Alanis Morissette, possibly her only fault known to date) is that Ellis received countless death threats and hate mail from people after the novel's publication. Really, do you want to be threatening the mind from whence Patrick Bateman came?
However, I do find Bateman as morbidly and viscerally alluring as the next person. I love the juxtaposition between his rigidly and meticulously maintained life of an 80's yuppie and his nightlife involving surprise axes to the faces of his guests, nailguns, and falling chainsaws. There's also something terrifyingly confrontational about a person who so unapologetically admits their lack of any shred of humanity. In fact, the only thing he expresses any fondness for (aside from his bloodlust) is Huey Lewis & The News and Whitney Houston. But even that fondness might be some extravagant ruse that Bateman seems to keep up even if he's not about to kill someone.
Aside from these little gems, the film itself is horribly misogynistic to what feels like a sardonic extent, but as with the film in general, I couldn't be sure of what was really being said.
Other things bothering me currently:
-tiger woods
-the state of new york
-my four page italian paper
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