Quotes from Bret Easton Ellis

The reality is that men look at women, and men look at other men, and women look at men, and women especially size up other women and objectify them. Has anybody who's ever been on a dating app recently not seen how our Darwinian impulses are gratified by a swipe or two? This, in order for our species to survive, is the way of the world and it's never going to be modified or erased.

Hollywood had revealed itself in countless ways as one of the most hypocritical capitalist enclaves in the world, with a preening surface attitude advocating progressivism, equality, inclusivity and diversity—except not when it came down to inclusivity and diversity of political thought and opinion and language.

Artists—or, in the local parlance, creatives—should no longer push any envelope, go to the dark side, explore taboos, make inappropriate jokes or offer contrarian opinions. We could, but not if we wanted to feed our families.

I don't trust anyone named Gavin.

contradictory and real with its assigned rule book on how to behave. We seem to have entered precariously into a kind of totalitarianism that actually abhors free speech and punishes people for revealing their true selves. In other words: the actor's dream.

The Bigelow tweets now crested with "I still believe that if 'The Hurt Locker' had been directed by a man it would not have won the Oscar for best director." I liked the definitiveness of this proclamation.

Why did people think I was attacking her identity instead of speculating about the fraudulence of the Oscars?

Trent senses I'm tense and says, "What do you want me to do? You wanna lude, is that it?" He pulls out a Pez dispenser and pulls Daffy Duck's head back. I don't say anything, just keep staring at the Pez dispenser and then he puts it away and cranes his neck.

Maybe it was just another episode in the reality show that is still unfolding. Or maybe when you're roiling in childish rage, the first thing you lose is judgment, and then comes common sense. And finally you lose your mind and along with that, your freedom.

There were no answers, just as there were no concrete connect-the-dot justifications of daily life's randomness: shit happens, deal with it, stop whining, take your medicine, grow the fuck up.

This cooling of excitement on all levels of the culture has to do with the disappearing notion of investment.

Blair thinks about it for a moment and then says slowly, evenly, "If Cliff slept with Didi, then he must have slept with Ã¢â'¬Â¦ Raoul." "Who's Raoul?" Alana and Kim ask at the same time. I open my menu and pretend to read it, wondering if I slept with Raoul. Name seems familiar.

Even though I had always sexualized Thom Wright everyone else now realized he was built, the jawline seemed more pronounced, the hair was now shorter—somewhat ubiquitous among the guys at Buckley (mostly because of haircut regulations) but Thom's was now something stylish, a moment, a cue to manliness

When you talk to me you're really talking to yourself, dude

How could she ever understand that there isn't any way I could be disappointed since I no longer found anything worth looking forward to?

The day really became effortless once you faked it and it actually became more real because of your changed demeanor; the act became the reality and it affected everything in what seemed like a positive way. In fact, it was preferable to reality.

The childlike disbelief had manifested itself immediately after the election in embarrassing ways, from morning-after posts titled "What Am I Going to Tell My Daughter?" (one friend suggested telling her Trump won, that shit happens, grow up, this is how the world works—and next time find a better candidate)

Everyone has to be the same, and have the same reactions to any given work of art, or movement or idea, and if you refuse to join the chorus of approval you will be tagged a racist or a misogynist. This is what happens to a culture when it no longer cares about art.

when did the victim's worldview become the lens through which we began to look at everything?

We seem to have entered precariously into a kind of totalitarianism that actually abhors free speech and punishes people for revealing their true selves. In other words: the actor's dream.

No one cared what we watched or didn't, how we felt or what we wanted, and we hadn't yet become enthralled by the cult of victimization. It was, by comparison to what's now acceptable when children are coddled into helplessness, an age of innocence.

As the film historian and critic David Thomson has asked: What are movies without male lust?

The men in King Cobra have already worked through whatever issues they might have had about their sexuality, and they have other problems to deal with, and there's an actual plot that isn't about being gay—it's just a crime drama.

The horror of 9/11 represented the end of Empire, a shock that moved us out of the twentieth century's binary Cold War thinking (The center will not hold) and into a world where there was, and is, no center; our enemies are insurgent and decentralized, our media also decentralized and insurgent.