Many of you may not know me by anything more than my pen name, Jack Loft. In an effort to bolster the credibility of MedLand Times Media (MTM), I've decided to come out of the closet by posting an image and using my real name, Mr. Mack Ackerman.

In pursuit of the journalistic excellence you've become accustomed to while reading MTM articles, we've enhanced our journalistic integrity by installing concealed wireless video/audio feeds in the office of a CEO at a major pharmaceutical company. We've also hacked into the company's computers and cellular phones.

Today we're providing you, our faithful reader, with inside information from the company that holds the patent on some of the drugs that so many millions of us use. We'd just provide the video feed online, but the magnificent Miss MedBud Mama says that the whole thing stinks, so we're trying to maintain our pristine image as a reputable news source by compromising. Here's a report on what we saw:

The wide angles lens picked up the suits entering the CEO's opulent office where they lit Cuban blunts while pouring a round of Remy Martin's Louis XIII Black Pearl Cognac as the well-dressed executives settled into comfortable chairs around their leader's desk. The CEO took a long pull off his Cuban, sucked up his Black Pearl and poured another, looking tired as he began speaking:

"We're f'd! In the next fifteen months we're losing the patents on seven of our top 20 drugs. This is Pharmageddon! Ladies and gentleman, we simply can't let this happen. Many of those boomers still have some money that we'll need to buy more Cubans and Black Pearl. What the f--- are we going to do?"

The youngest in the group of young executives pulled at the lapel of his Gucci, smiling broadly as his eyes lit up, "I know! We'll just pay to make sure the generics aren't manufactured, meaning the quacks will have to prescribe our drugs."

The CEO looked at the exuberant young man, sighed, then said, "No, Mr. Bonestroker, we've already tried that and caught too much heat from the regulators we couldn't buy."

Executive Officer, Stan Stone suggested, "We have to try something new, unique, innovative... maybe we can put some kind of addictive additive into the pills that will get the consumers strung out so they're not satisfied by anything else?"

One of the executives, who happens to look like a young Tom Cruise, piped in, "That's a great idea Stanley! It worked really well for those guys who reformulated thebaine (paramorphine), making them billions."

The CEO's eyes lit up as a smile crossed his face, "Yes, that is a good idea Stan! You know, Bonestroker, you can learn a few things from my man Stan here."

Bonestroker sat baked, confused and somewhat subdued after forgetting about the Generic Interruption Program (GIP), making himself look ignorant in front of his boss.
The CEO went on, "Yeah this f'in' Phamageddon isn't going to take any Kobe off our plates. We'll have to conceal the fact that we're getting our customers strung out, but that's why we have those lazy R&D guys who do nothing all day while we justify our prices with them."

That was it. The meeting adjourned before Stan headed up to the R&D department. Just for fun we left the feed on to see what else our Chief Executive Bro' does while he's working. It didn't surprise us to see him reach into his gold bonus drawer, pulling out a few pounds of bullion that he calmly caressed while a look of ecstasy passed his features. What did surprise us was when his fantastically gorgeous secretary climbed from beneath his desk, where she'd been all along. The man asked her to call his wife to let her know he'd be home early. Kissing the woman before leaving for home, the man commented to his assistant, "You know, Candy, it's not easy being morally turpitude. We earn every penny of our insignificant salaries and all of our petty bonuses too. I mean, what's a soul worth? See you tomorrow."