A Schmuck's Soliloquy

Graduating last in my class, with no desire to interact with sick people and devoid of all ambition, my future looked bleak. Never really sure if dyscrasia caused dysphoria or visa-versa, my understanding of medical science was limited to lancing boils. Luckily I obtained a sinecure at the equivalent of the Post Office for medical also-rans, the FDA. Ever looking out for numero uno, I became frightened that this new, untried therapy that had a one-in-forty chance of not working could impact my career aspirations if approved and then found to be wanting. Taking no chances with not only my precious pension, but my chances of putting in my twenty, then double dipping for another shot at pension with the NCI, I let Andy the Dandy take the heat. That clever rascal bought off the aggrieved Company with changes to their next trail, kept the advocates quiet with that knowledge and would have done the same with those pesky protesters, had they but met with him. Now at last, I should have been able to go back to my pre-retirement somnolent siestas if only those louts on the Dendreon message boards would clam up about all this. My one fantasy, is to do my part by someday getting that snotty, unwashed jerkoff, Ming in a dark alley and wring his scrawny, little neck.