American Psycho

On the other hand....American Psycho. Now lissenup. Teh Humungus read this book. He read this book when it was released. Back then, Teh Humungus was an urban dweller and mass transit passenger. Back then, holding this book was a invitation for the ultimate commuter sin....eye contact; and it was not the friendly kind, let me tell you. Anyway, the book was meh, but, one was left with a message....alright, he's demonstrating the emptiness of hollow modern life by writing a hollow and empty book. Fine.

Now, Teh Humungus was cajoled into watching the Hollywood version. Sigh. There was not even that with the film. There was young batman doing an impression of Charlie Sheen doing a Rod Serling impression. There was the cute (bless his heart) attempt at a plot twist, leading the viewer to question whether Patrick Bateman ackchewly killed all those people. But Hollywood took the empty/hollow message and trashed it by trying to             add        a              meaning.

Yeah, you get to see some nice antiques (brickphones, suspenders, giant cathode ray tubes, sonic equalizers, CDs, secretaries, smoking in the office, Reagan speeches, AIDS protests). But it ain't worth it. But here's the sand in the Vaseline: they try to blame everything (everything) on indifference. Repeat: they try to blame everything on indifference. Here's a guy that took the time to plan elaborate murders, keep several meticulous apartments, spend hours and thousands on physical and social appearance and we're supposed to believe that he's indifferent.

Puh freakin leez.