The FDA and the various pharmaceutical corporations that exist are friends, but friends with wedding rings. Blood diamonds flickering in their golden embodiments. Lasting only as long as possible, or until it’s time for the big ‘d’—Divorce.
Their relationship is odd because it is one backed entirely by financial corruption. Laws that have been set that allow the pioneers or the original Christopher Columbus’s of the said drug to benefit and or reap the very expensive finder’s fee for an allotted amount of years before the Native Americans generify the shit out of it and it becomes your typical gum-ball machine sort of drug.
And when this does happen—the big guns drop out and seek diamonds elsewhere, leaving the blood-suckers to shoulder the responsibility of refilling this world’s chewy desires. And because our math becomes rather assumptive itself, I will let my own computatitve skills slip, rust, and plant themselves back in the first grade.
“But a new study in the New England Journal of Medicine showed 88 percent treated with the original drug were cancer-free after two years — compared to only 75 percent of those receiving the replacement drug.”
Stretch hands. Check.
Pencil and a functioning eraser. Check
Lots of bleached-white paper. Check.
88% + 75% = 163%
Holy shit!—163% of the people in this study don’t have cancer!
You came away with 13% and I, 163%. Beyond the math and the money that eventually snowballs itself into a shortage crisis, what have we got? We’ve got cancer—and lots of it. Maybe we should do something about that? Maybe we should worry about the cancer and the other genetically-linked diseases these said drugs are gonna eventually kick up in their dust? Maybe the real problem isn’t a shortage, but the belief that we can play god by giving our kids cancer and then taking it away as we please.
But it isn’t as simple as the modern-day spank or sending your child to the timeout corner for fifteen minutes—is it?