Meditations on the bringing of a drug to market

In the marvellous Dorothy Dunnett novel King Hereafter there are a number of set pieces during which our heroine, the radiant, ravishing, self-willed Groa (Ingebjorg) is given an opportunity to participate in the councils of the great.  The men will sit around after supper talking, and drinking, but in moderation and in consideration of their dignity, and will say unbelievably cryptic things and then pause and look at each other like something out of a fricking Ingmar Berman movie.  Our heroine will learn that it behooves one to only have the best information to share with the menfolks or stay silent.

At one point, one of the menfolks says something, and there’s a pause, and somebody else says, “Is that a good thing?” and the response of the king is to say “It’s an interesting thing,” and then there’s another one of these massive, borborygmic pauses.

Such is my emotion on learning that there’s this thing on the internet (from University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences (2008, January 9)). Reversal Of Alzheimer’s Symptoms Within Minutes In Human Study. about immediate amelioration of Alzheimer symptoms – on one person!  One person?  Is it a good thing?  Possibly.  It’s an interesting thing, and that’s because we all imagine our deaths, and spending 10 or 15 years cuckoo and non-participatory and wacky-tacka aforehand is not how most of us want to go, however often and with however much fear we may foresee it.  Supposing this stuff works?  They jam some stuff in your cerebrospinal fluid, and it either hoovers up the bad crap that is preventing your brain from working properly and actually spits it out in a format that your body’s clean up crew can deal with, or it kicks it out of where it’s binding to, or does something else I can’t imagine or describe.  Further suppose they figure out a way of getting it into you that doesn’t involve making holes in your spine, always a task fraught with hazard.  Interestingly enough it’s an offlabel use of an existing drug, etanercept.  Man, there are so many offlabel uses for so many drugs.  Some of them are downright criminal and ought to be dealt with summarily, but others should receive placid encouragement.  Is this application of etanercept such a case, or is it just another bunch of goddamned carnies with a stake in the outcome beating on the side of a barrel?  Time will tell.
Oh, and I watched the first 2/3rds of Hot Fuzz tonight.  I couldn’t stand to watch all of it, as the first part of the movie was delightful, and the last third of carnage was not…. at least to my view.  I’m dreffle tired of 25 minute shootouts, although I really liked the shootout in 3:10 to Yuma.

One thing and another

Still… migraining.  It comes and goes.  Hopefully by the time I toddle off with Kopper (shoot, nearly typed ‘Kipper’) to see Hecuba it will be entirely lifted.

Funny picture. 

I actually practiced last night.  Given how terrible I was (I could not finish A SINGLE song without fluffing words or chords or both) I think I will be pencilling in a lot more practice between now and Conflikt.

Snow and fog

It is still snowing, although not very hard, and there’s four inches of snow on my balcony.

I think my thyroid is packing it in.  I’ve been wondering if that was the case for the last couple of years but now three of the more common symptoms dogpiled me at once, so I’ll go off and get blood tests again and see if it’s true this time.

World news round up…. (not very round, but whatever…)
Leave Africa alone…. 

an interesting article on how getting the IMF out of African policies might be a damned good thing.

Ebola’s broken out in Uganda again. 

A group of francophones opine on the death of languages globally. 

(Items are translated).

Ukrainian crocodile dies after six months on the run.

Subprime mess is ‘poor judgement of a few’.  Indeed. 

Need to hear a cat purr? 

Aussies finally figure out about drinking and pregnancy. 

Who knew that Russian hoteliers had such a great sense of humour (NSFW pic) 

Tattoo you

My mother has a tattoo. Don’t worry, she didn’t have a Raging Granny fit and have Fred Astaire in a top hat engraved on her bosom; it’s the merest few dots for the siting of the radiation. My father has now had occasion to ask an uncaring universe why it is that he is now sleeping with a tattooed grandmother. Age spares us no indignity, as a great man once remarked. Continue reading Tattoo you