American Psycho

Brett Easton Ellis has apparently been taking notes from Scott Adams and decided “Yes. I like this guy. I like where this guy’s going.” and decided to follow him there. Though with more perhaps some more Ellis-esque panache. I’m squealing with bspencerian delight.

To pretend that looks or that hotness, whether you’re a guy or a girl, shouldn’t make you popular, is one of those sad politically correct stances that make you question the validity, the reality of politically correct thinking, and a few journalistic reactions to the LA Weekly piece. This ode to Sky Ferreira may not have been that well written, but it is clearly written honestly by, yes, most definitely a man, who is, yes, most definitely looking at a woman he desires, and writing about that desire. What’s wrong with that? Even if it overshadows what he thinks about her music, so what if he’s honest about objectifying her?

Oh, clearly you didn’t think the little snowflake justice warriors everywhere, from the LAist to Flavorwire to Jezebel to Teen Vogue to Vulture, were going to let this innocuous piece go unnoticed without having a hissy fit? Oh yes, most deliciously, the little snowflakes got so pissed off and were just sooo unbelievably offended by this piece, that they had to denounce it. Oh, little snowflakes, when did you all become grandmothers and society matrons, clutching your pearls in horror at someone who has an opinion about something, a way of expressing themselves that’s not the mirror image of yours, you snivelling little weak-ass narcissists? The high moral tone from social justice warriors is always out of scale with what they are indignant about. When did this hideous and probably nerve-wracking way of living begin transforming you into the authoritarian language police, with your strict set of little rules and manufactured outrage, demanding apologies from every sandwich or salad you didn’t like?

Eeeeexcellent.