November 10, 2008

Hey, friends. I'm back. Phew, just back from a long vacation in Baja, California, and no, I didn't kill anyone. Reason is, I'm just too stressed. Unless you're a moron, you know what's been happening on Wall Street. Us robber-barons used to get away with anything we've wanted. I used to make a killing all day and then kill all night. Not anymore. Now your buddy Patrick has been rendered paralyzed in both respects.

When word came down a couple weeks ago that Wall Street blew its cover, I thought "what went wrong.?" We always called in our marks in Congress to cover our backs. Not this time. I took two Halcion and a Xanax in the board meeting and I still couldn't stop shaking. Reports from India and China claiming the U.S. has lost preeminent economic status was bad enough, but to be personally exposed for all your misdeeds is a special kind of blow. Luckily, my dad owns the company so my job is safe, but now I have to invest in legitimate securities and I won't nearly make the salary I'm accustomed to. So I have to put the 70" plasma on lay-a-way and drive my year old Benz for another year! Something is wrong with America when even the fat cats have to ask "how much" when buying expensive shit.

So I'm back in New York now and the dust has mostly settled. All the niggers and college kids from NYU and Columbia are cheering in the streets in SoHo about Obama getting elected. I'm going to take a significant tax hike thanks to this asshole but if my firm lobbies hard enough (we know Rahm Emmanuel personally) we can at least garner a few sweetheart deals.

But anyway I'm depressed as hell. I've been consigned to watching porn and jacking off for weeks. I took a long walk along the Brooklyn Bridge yesterday, watching the snow cascade along the banks of the East River, lighting a cigarette and wondering about my plight. Where will I be? I have so much more to lose than the average American.

Needless to say, things are not well in Pat Bateman's corner of the world. I am the American Dream, America is a direct extension of me and so I can't help but feel personally responsible for this in some way. Guilt? Bateman feeling guilt? Strange, I know. All I can hope for now is a greater America, an America that lives up to its timeless ideals -- greed, exploitation, murder. Otherwise, I'm a man without a home.

Until next time, friends...