Tweet of the Day

I've been not only a big fan of Ellis's for decades but a big defender of his as well. Anyone who's read my own book, Dead Star Twilight, knows that I paid homage to Less Than Zero in it in several, often very direct ways and I still think that American Psycho is the most scathing indictment of the new culture of greed spawned in the 80s ever committed to posterity.

But, Jesus, Ellis needs to have his Twitter account taken away from him. It's a nonstop, raging menstrual-flow torrent of egomaniacal id that reduces Ellis to nothing more than a paper-thin character from one of his books. When Ellis isn't tweeting at 4am drunk off his ass and probably coked to the gills, usually about whatever ridiculous thing pops into his buzzing head, he's posting painfully stupid pop culture nuggets, suggestions and "predictions," like the one above, that never -- and I mean never -- pan out to have any bearing in reality. If he's going for meta, he did it better in Lunar Park, which at least had a surprising streak of humanity at its core.

Ellis raves about Silver Linings Playbook for the same reason he cast crap-acting porn star James Deen in his new movie, The Canyons: Because he spends an inordinate amount of time concocting fantasies about being able to fuck a guy he's seen in movies whom he really thinks is hot (in the case of Silver Linings, Bradley Cooper).

Speaking of The Canyons, no one associated with the production of that movie has a right to pretend that he's got any wisdom to impart on anyone or should otherwise be taken the least bit seriously. That fucking train-wreck was already rejected by Sundance and has now been passed on by SXSW, which cited "quality issues" and called the movie "ugly." This of course follows an instantly classic New York Times piece from a couple of weeks ago that publicly tore the movie's production to shreds and made its star, the execrable Lindsay Lohan, out to be the walking nightmare she is.

Ellis should wise up and pull a Garbo or something -- for his own sake.

Hell, at least Jay McInerney has made the decision to spend his literary twilight years tweeting nothing but insufferably pompous boasts about which vintage of Chateau Lafleur he's currently drinking in the Hamptons.