Why the Big Drug Companies are Scary
Pfizer's trading down on the NYSE this morning following reports that its marquee product, Viagara, may be linked to incidents of bilndness among some male users. The numbers may be slim, but they're out there. According to the business reporter on the CBC, the company claims that such results were not detected in their internal clinical trials. Let me repeat that. Such results were not detected in their INTERNAL clinical trials.
Anyone else see that episode of Law and Order with the anti-depression drugs that were causing kids to jump from windows? And the big drug company was doing everything from paying off doctors to skewing clinical studies in order to keep the pill on the shelves?
Um, yeah. I'm no scientist or expert, but I have seen a good number of reports on how the Food and Drug Administration in the U.S. is falling desperately behind in its obligation to check on these people. The government resources can't compete with the drug factories, churning out products just as quickly as their multi-billion dollar coffers will permit. So with a quasi-useless agency attempting to protect a population from an industry operating at six times its speed, there's bound to be a few slip ups.
Somehow that just doesn't seem okay.
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Pfizer's trading down on the NYSE this morning following reports that its marquee product, Viagara, may be linked to incidents of bilndness among some male users. The numbers may be slim, but they're out there. According to the business reporter on the CBC, the company claims that such results were not detected in their internal clinical trials. Let me repeat that. Such results were not detected in their INTERNAL clinical trials.
Anyone else see that episode of Law and Order with the anti-depression drugs that were causing kids to jump from windows? And the big drug company was doing everything from paying off doctors to skewing clinical studies in order to keep the pill on the shelves?
Um, yeah. I'm no scientist or expert, but I have seen a good number of reports on how the Food and Drug Administration in the U.S. is falling desperately behind in its obligation to check on these people. The government resources can't compete with the drug factories, churning out products just as quickly as their multi-billion dollar coffers will permit. So with a quasi-useless agency attempting to protect a population from an industry operating at six times its speed, there's bound to be a few slip ups.
Somehow that just doesn't seem okay.
Symphony Surprise
Had the pleasure and honour last evening of attending a free, impromptu, and very special concert given by the Montreal Symphony Orchestra in a glorious church on the Plateau. The vaulted ceiling more suited to opera than gregorian chanting, the alter (and its super ornate alter piece) were the ultimate backdrop for the symphony's tribute to Brahms and Beethoven's 7th.
The show, a strike protest, brought at least a thousand people to their feet. I'm not so up on the demands or the negotiations, but I do know this: the symphony deserves whatever they're asking.
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Had the pleasure and honour last evening of attending a free, impromptu, and very special concert given by the Montreal Symphony Orchestra in a glorious church on the Plateau. The vaulted ceiling more suited to opera than gregorian chanting, the alter (and its super ornate alter piece) were the ultimate backdrop for the symphony's tribute to Brahms and Beethoven's 7th.
The show, a strike protest, brought at least a thousand people to their feet. I'm not so up on the demands or the negotiations, but I do know this: the symphony deserves whatever they're asking.
Vacay?
... tis true, dear readers, the dearth of updates is attributable to an odd phenomenon with which I've recently become acquainted: the vacation. Although it's been a rough adjustment for this chronic overachiever, I am now starting to see the merit in having a flexible schedule and few commitments. It's nice. Keeping with the theme of vacation, I've decided to also vacate my headspace for a while -- and also my laptop. Not sure how long I'll be able to stay away, but for now I'll just say see you soon.
It's going to be 20 C and sunny tomorrow. You shouldn't be at your computer, either.
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... tis true, dear readers, the dearth of updates is attributable to an odd phenomenon with which I've recently become acquainted: the vacation. Although it's been a rough adjustment for this chronic overachiever, I am now starting to see the merit in having a flexible schedule and few commitments. It's nice. Keeping with the theme of vacation, I've decided to also vacate my headspace for a while -- and also my laptop. Not sure how long I'll be able to stay away, but for now I'll just say see you soon.
It's going to be 20 C and sunny tomorrow. You shouldn't be at your computer, either.
Andy Bey.
Two Sunday nights ago, Katie Malloch spun a track off a disc called Shades of Bey, a collection from quiet legend Andy Bey. I picked it up at HMV the other afternoon. Bey's not a household name, and might never become one. The reason for that is, well, impossible to comprehend. Silky. Smooth. Gorgeous. I could go on, and am glad to do so, but words are simply inadequate. His is just, just one of those voices that unlocks the doors to the innermost sanctums of your soul
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Two Sunday nights ago, Katie Malloch spun a track off a disc called Shades of Bey, a collection from quiet legend Andy Bey. I picked it up at HMV the other afternoon. Bey's not a household name, and might never become one. The reason for that is, well, impossible to comprehend. Silky. Smooth. Gorgeous. I could go on, and am glad to do so, but words are simply inadequate. His is just, just one of those voices that unlocks the doors to the innermost sanctums of your soul
If it could only be...
One song, on a steady loop, for, say, two solid weeks, I think I know what song I would not only tolerate but still love.
Ella Fitzgerald singing Rodgers and Hart's Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.
Yup. I honestly believe I could never tire of it.
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One song, on a steady loop, for, say, two solid weeks, I think I know what song I would not only tolerate but still love.
Ella Fitzgerald singing Rodgers and Hart's Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.
Yup. I honestly believe I could never tire of it.
Madeleine Peyroux
Ok, so when within the span of two days, three people (jazz efficienados, all of them) spontaneously ask your opinion on Madeleine Peyroux and whether she's playing the Montreal Jazz Fest, you have to wonder what in the cosmos has alligned to produce such a three-peat. Well, at least those are the sorts of things I wonder about. All that to say, although I'd heard her before, I couldn't place the name with the sultry vocals. I didn't know her all that well. But that changed real quick. Now, I'm hooked. And she IS playing the jazz fest which means that I get to absorb those smokey pipes within the comfy confines of Club Soda on a sticky July evening. Wow. Can't wait.
And, equally as exciting is that she's with Rounder Records of Cambridge, MA -- one of the finest indie labels in the States, and the label that lovely Ottawater Kathleen Edwards also calls home. Nice company.
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Ok, so when within the span of two days, three people (jazz efficienados, all of them) spontaneously ask your opinion on Madeleine Peyroux and whether she's playing the Montreal Jazz Fest, you have to wonder what in the cosmos has alligned to produce such a three-peat. Well, at least those are the sorts of things I wonder about. All that to say, although I'd heard her before, I couldn't place the name with the sultry vocals. I didn't know her all that well. But that changed real quick. Now, I'm hooked. And she IS playing the jazz fest which means that I get to absorb those smokey pipes within the comfy confines of Club Soda on a sticky July evening. Wow. Can't wait.
And, equally as exciting is that she's with Rounder Records of Cambridge, MA -- one of the finest indie labels in the States, and the label that lovely Ottawater Kathleen Edwards also calls home. Nice company.
Question Period Gender Observations
So, something I notice in my daily viewings from the House... when female MPs rise to speak, they almost all futz with their hair, their shirts, their jackets, while speaking. They futz. They primp. This is not a sometimes thing, it's an always thing.
But men, men... well they stand up, speak authoritatively, gesticulate with gusto. There are no tie adjustments. Sometimes they button/unbutton their blazers. But beyond that, there is no apparent thought about how they appear.
When are we going to evolve past this?
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So, something I notice in my daily viewings from the House... when female MPs rise to speak, they almost all futz with their hair, their shirts, their jackets, while speaking. They futz. They primp. This is not a sometimes thing, it's an always thing.
But men, men... well they stand up, speak authoritatively, gesticulate with gusto. There are no tie adjustments. Sometimes they button/unbutton their blazers. But beyond that, there is no apparent thought about how they appear.
When are we going to evolve past this?
Summa, summa, summa time
By 4 o'clock this afternoon there wasn't an empty terrasse seat to be had on St. Denis. And as the sun set over the mountain, the buzz on the street was impossible to ignore; the lineup at the Parc Ave. Dairy Queen swelled across the parking lot. At midnight, Parc Jeanne Mance was full of strollers and late-night frisbeers indulging that first sweet summer evening air.
Mmmmm... Montreal summer... purrrfection...
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By 4 o'clock this afternoon there wasn't an empty terrasse seat to be had on St. Denis. And as the sun set over the mountain, the buzz on the street was impossible to ignore; the lineup at the Parc Ave. Dairy Queen swelled across the parking lot. At midnight, Parc Jeanne Mance was full of strollers and late-night frisbeers indulging that first sweet summer evening air.
Mmmmm... Montreal summer... purrrfection...
Bartender please, keep the pits out of my olives (another s. 2 rant)
I know I beaked on a related topic very recently, but I experienced another dirty martini flub this week that cannot go unmentioned. And it was at a bar that should know better (ahem, the Wunderbar at the W Hotel in Montreal, in case you're wUndering...).
PITS in my olives.
Fine, if I'm out for Greek and sucking down a fatty kalamata, I'm expecting an equally robust pit. But if I'm out for a martini at arguably one of the swankiest nightspots in town, should I really be forced to leave pits on my cocktail napkin?
I think not. Hardly sexy.
Is it so difficult to find pitted/stuffed olives for martini garnishes?
We know the answer to that.
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I know I beaked on a related topic very recently, but I experienced another dirty martini flub this week that cannot go unmentioned. And it was at a bar that should know better (ahem, the Wunderbar at the W Hotel in Montreal, in case you're wUndering...).
PITS in my olives.
Fine, if I'm out for Greek and sucking down a fatty kalamata, I'm expecting an equally robust pit. But if I'm out for a martini at arguably one of the swankiest nightspots in town, should I really be forced to leave pits on my cocktail napkin?
I think not. Hardly sexy.
Is it so difficult to find pitted/stuffed olives for martini garnishes?
We know the answer to that.
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