They say the past is another country. For me, Patrick Bateman, formerly of Pierce & Pierce, the 1980s were a goddamn empire, and I was its Caesar, resplendent in Valentino and wielding a gold-plated letter opener like a scepter. Now? Now I reside in Neo-Tokyo, 2025, a capsule hotel my Colosseum, instant ramen my ambrosia, and the bewildering rituals of Millennials my unwilling spectacle. "The Latter Days of Patrick Bateman" is my unflinching, and if I may say so myself, exquisitely acerbic autopsy of a generation that traded hostile takeovers for hashtag activism, power lunches for performative wellness, and genuine, blood-soaked ambition for the anemic pursuit of "purpose." From the curated wasteland of their digital selves to the fractured narratives they call truth, I, your fallen, yet eternally discerning, guide, will dissect their baffling existence with the same meticulous precision I once reserved for… other, more tangible, projects. Consider this your invitation to the most brutally honest, darkly nostalgic, and hilariously bleak assessment of where we went wrong. You might not like the reflection, but then, mirrors rarely lie. Especially when they're held by me.