(from the Guardian, 4/12; via the Drudge Report.)
Audience members for the Broadway musical version of Bret Easton Ellis’s Wall Street fable are regretting not packing Patrick Bateman-style plastic ponchos
Name: American Psycho.
Appearance: American. Psychotic.
Good heavens, are the adventures of murderous-or-possibly-just-delusional investment banker Patrick Bateman by then enfant terrible Bret Easton Ellis a quarter of a century old already? They are indeed.
I feel old. Although I don’t look it, thanks to my assiduous application of honey almond body scrub, water-activated gel cleanser and herb mint facial masks. That’s from the film, but kudos.
Is the book being republished on this unlikely anniversary? No. It is being marked by something altogether more splendid, albeit accidentally.