I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st street. My name is Patrick Bateman. I’m 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself, and a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I’ll put on an ice pack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack, I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower, I use a water activated gel cleanser. Then a honey almond body scrub. And on the face, an exfoliating gel scrub. Then apply an herb mint facial mask, which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion. There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me. Only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our life styles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.

“Are you going to eat that?” points at your son

I heard someone else call him the demon from Smile recently and that felt pretty accurate.

kudos to kotaku for running maybe the flattest of flat-affect mr. beast photos, you can put anything over it and have it work.

The Michael Phelps of dead eyes

Normal Guy has human emotions

Hey, my wife saw you from across the bar and we really dig your vibe. Can we buy you a drink?

I love MrBeast because I no longer have to try very hard to explain what I mean when I used the word “rictus”.

White people walk past and look at you like:

“Is it the meth or the mescaline?”

This is the picture they’re using for the Souless section of the DSM-6

Future President

Dairy Product: Become Human

I fucking hate this guy so much. I would like it if he didn’t have a very good time, just generally.