Last night Someone took me to his ushering gig in Tempe to see “American Psycho the musical”.  I haven’t read the book nor seen the movie so I wasn’t going with any expectations.* It was a thoughtful show in-between the murders. Were the 80s really that greedy and solipsistic? I spent mine engrossed in my studies so I missed out on the opulence. I grew up in a Midwest WASP household that did not care tuppence for ostentatious living. Indeed, being showy in ones possessions was looked upon as something ‘not nice’.

The audience in last night’s blood bath/song and dance mostly consisted of college kids, who I’m guessing weren’t born at the time of the show’s setting. They seemed to have enjoyed it. The lanky lad sitting on my left was having himself a ball.** Were they thinking it all quite silly or were they secretly longing for these sorts of times? There was a scene in which the young male executives are showing off their business cards trying to up eaach other in their cards’ paper and ink quality.  No one uses business cards any more I suppose but I wonder what do today’s youngsters have for status symbols?  Cell phones? Laptops? Scooters? The mind boggles.  I don’t hang out with youngsters or members of the “A” lists having ‘the best’ isn’t needed.

Mr. Bateman certainly had money, prestige, and a chiseled body*** so his black hole of endless envy seemed absurd which was the point apart from giving him an excuse to dismember his fellow YUPPIES.  I won’t give away the ending lest Spo-fans have not seen the movie or the musical.**** I walked out feeling a bit deficit about my lot in life compared to the successes of the Hampton-going lads seen on stage. On the other hand I am not a psycho-killer-whore so that’s a mercy. Walking out I felt glum about my lack of status symbols but I cheered up reflecting on my own underwear. I have a few Derek Rose boxers; they cost about forty dollars so all is not lost.


*That’s not entirely true. I got it confused with “American Beauty” another movie I hadn’t seen.

**I felt like Margaret Mead among the Bantus observing tribal customs and behavior. I sort of felt like a dumpy wicked old screw.

***The actor playing the role of Mr. Bateman frequently stripped down to his underwear to display his 0% body fat. He wore tighty-whities which seem incongruent to the rest of his wardrobe which he constantly reminded us was top designer-wear.  He mentioned his boxers cost 60$ but there were no signs of such on stage worse luck.

****It ends badly.