@JimFergusonUK@JohnStone32 Fabulous book. I have taught for over thirty years and yes, the curricula now tell our children what to think. I am seen as a weirdo for encouraging them to question everything. I teach biology and so recent years have been one hell of a ride! ๐๐คฃ
@theTxFlash@JesslovesMJK@BppgZentrale Try Boswellia serrata- frankincense. Acts like a steroid, but fewer negative effects. Take in fat. Tastes grim, but it does work. Good luck.
@MrPool_QQ I worked as a pharma rep in the 90โs, selling opiates. The training taught us how to frame the stats to show that they are โ not addictiveโ. I quit when my boss told me that I needed to learn to โswim with the sharksโ, ie compromise my integrity.
๐ป THE PHARMA REP WHO SAW THE LIST.
"I sold cancer drugs for 11 years. I made $340,000 a year convincing doctors to prescribe treatments I knew didn't work. Then one night, I saw the list. And I understood everything."
I was a senior sales representative for one of the top three pharmaceutical companies in the world. I won't name them yet. My lawyers are still working on my protection agreement under the Executive Order.
My job was simple: visit oncologists, buy them dinners, take them to conferences, and make sure they prescribed our chemotherapy drugs over the competitors. I was good at it. Top 1% nationally for seven consecutive years.
I never questioned it. The drugs had FDA approval. The doctors trusted me. The patients trusted them. The system worked โ for everyone except the patients.
In November 2024, I was at a private dinner in Manhattan with three executives from my company. We had closed a $1.2 billion hospital network contract. Champagne. Cigars. The usual.
One of the executives left his phone on the table when he went to the bathroom. A notification popped up. It was an encrypted message. The preview read:
"Updated K-List attached. 2,847 names added this quarter. Confirm receipt."
I didn't touch the phone. But I remembered the term. K-List.
Over the next three months, I quietly asked around. Most people had never heard of it. But one senior colleague โ a man who had been with the company for 30 years โ went pale when I mentioned it.
He pulled me into a stairwell and said:
"The K-List is the kill list. It's every patient whose insurance profile makes them more profitable dead than alive. Long-term treatment patients who are about to hit their coverage cap. If they die before the cap, the company collects the full treatment cycle payment. If they live past it, the insurance stops paying and we lose money."
I said: "Are you telling me we let people die for billing optimization?"
He said: "We don't let them die. We make sure the treatment doesn't work well enough to save them. The dosing protocols are calibrated. Not to kill. Just to not cure."
I went home that night and threw up for an hour.
2,847 names added in one quarter. Four quarters a year. For how many years?
The math is simple. And the math is murder.
I resigned in January 2025. I took nothing with me except what I remembered. But when Executive Order 2026-1947 was signed, I contacted a lawyer. The NDA protections are dissolving. The whistleblower provisions are active.
I am one of dozens preparing to testify.
The pharmaceutical industry doesn't just suppress cures. It engineers death on a schedule. And every single executive knows it.
The K-List is real. The names on it are real. And in 34 days, the world will see it.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ฑ๐ป'๐ ๐ท๐๐๐ ๐ต๐ถ๐ฑ๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐๐ฟ๐ฒ. ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐ฒ๐ป๐ด๐ถ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐๐ต.
๐ฆ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ถ๐.
โ
@jasonwilliamsmd Historically, skilled clinicians chose to treat by embolising the tumour, with multiple small coils, rather than blocking larger vessels. Sadly few interventional radiologists are prepared to work with such precision these days. Provided great long term outcomes.
Since Jason Arday, Iโve been thinking about getting into Cambridge, and what it meant.
The culmination of years of headbanging hard work. Being a โswotโ at school because I handed in homework instead of being popular. Yes, in a comprehensive the choice was that stark.
Carrying Tescoโs bags full of books home from the library on the bus for weeks. Piling the books high to create a rampart around my single bed.
Telling myself, โIf you read all those books youโll be good enough to get in.โ
Some of the books I read - all of Graham Greene - were not considered โliteratureโ. Not of the first rank, dear. I didnโt know.
As much Shakespeare as I could pack in - the big 4 Tragedies, all of the comedies. All of Austen, Forster (even Maurice FFS), lots of Dickens, Anna Karenina (devastating, wonderful).
I stopped going to school because I needed to read more, much much more. To be good enough to get in.
The Head of Sixth Form summoned me and said, โIf you carry on like this youโll fail your A levels.โ
Ha! She hadnโt got a clue. I was working so far beyond A levels. Besides, I had to finish all the books in the rampart. Time was running out.
So hard, the entrance papers. Translating Proust into English. How?
Then, a passage of George Eliot I recognised - thank you God! Then pretending that Iโd read Oliver Twist when Iโd only seen the film. I called it Oliver! in my essay. With an exclamation mark - how crass. But the dons didnโt know the musical, maybe. I donโt know.
The only lie I told to get into Cambridge. Oliver! โAll we ever get is groo-ell!โ A really small, forgivable lie, I think, because the work of becoming good enough was so immense, so lonely.
But the surge of pride when I made it. Good enough to get into that unattainable place.
And now, we know that same Cambridge let in someone with two GCSEs - PE and textiles. A man who lied and lied and lied.
They didnโt just let Jason Arday in, they made him a Professor, one of those scholars kids like me revered. We were in awe - imagine being taught by those great minds.
Christ, Cambridge. What a betrayal of all of us who strove so hard to be good enough to deserve you. Who put you on a pedestal, who really truly thought reading hundreds of books was the price of admission, a price you willingly paid.
So much for the brightest and the best. Itโs so disgusting on every level, waving in someone utterly unworthy, barely literate for crying out loud. A man at the mercy of the English language, not its master and commander.
A know-nothing Professor, a vacuous, fashionable fraudster hired to give lectures to kids like me.
So Cambridge could look โdiverseโ and, in so doing, renounced its ancient power which made so many like me strive to be good enough.