It'll be interesting to see what trading looks like today, and also interesting to see if these results are enough to quickly attract a quality partner. I'm sure there are plenty of potential partners, but many of them will be of the Shkreli quality and that ain't gonna cut it. We could really use a known (connected) big pharma partner.

Now that we have the results, I'm flabbergasted to see that 700mg didn't do what we all figured it would. That it would be just as good if not better than 350mg without any additional side effects. But I forgot that this is CYDY, and no trial seems to ever be completed without some confounding result mixed in. In the case of this particular trial result, I'd imagine that the small sample size is the main culprit. Not enough participants to offset any relatively minor unforeseen or randomization issue. Or hell, maybe 350mg is just the peak dose for what LL can do in Nash. Drugs do have an ideal/max dose. They don't always just get better and better the more you ingest or inject.

All in all I'm happy that 350mg worked well, because that's ultimately all we need for LL to get approved for Nash at some point, or any other big indication for that matter. And it seems to work in all of them. What's killing us now is the path NP and the board set us on years ago, which I actually thought was a good idea at the time. To get us just far enough along in each indication so that our buyout value would be maximized. Only now I'm realizing that other stuff (Hubris, stinky microwaves in the breakroom?) must have been going on behind the scenes to make potential suitors pass, and now all of our "let's just enroll the bare minimum for this trial" efforts are lacking the final hadoukens needed to make them clear, definitive winners on their own.

I've come to realize that Investing in CYDY is a lot like doing the laundry. Weird, I know. But hear me out.

You thoughtfully grab a load of dirty clothes and get it washing. On to the dryer but you forget your wife has wet clothes still in the dryer that she runs on extra low every time, so it takes fourteen full cycles before it's ever actually dry. So you delay drying your clothes for a while as you run her delicates (which is everything she owns, by the way) through two more cycles until they're dry. Now you can finally dry yours. On a regular setting like a normal person. Which is great and all, but you already had to run out to your meeting with your B clothes on because you couldn't get your favorite outfit into the dryer like you thought. The meeting doesn’t go as well as you’d hoped and it turns out a birthday suit DOES NOT qualify as a real suit when it comes to business meetings. Chalk that up to inexperience. Now, much later than expected you've got your clothes drying. Back on track. The dryer dings, you grab everything in your arms and now you're walking it back to your room to fold everything. En route a pair of underwear slips out of your grasp and onto the floor. As you reach down to grab it and come back up, a shirt falls off. You bend back down to grab that and accidentally step on it at the same time as you're grabbing it. A couple socks fall this time. Then you've got it all back in your arms and you somehow misjudge the doorway you've walked through a million times and smack your elbow on the frame. You get everything folded and see that you've shrunk two shirts to an unusable size and a sock is missing. Sure, you're laundry is now done but you're left with more questions than you have answers. Where did all my collar stays go that I forgot to take out of my shirts? How and why did these shirts shrink this time and not the other hundred times I washed them the same exact way? The fuck is that missing sock? And everyone who's watching it unfold like this every time is screaming at their screens "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! START USING A BASKET TO CARRY EVERYTHING! HAVEN'T YOU LEARNED ANYTHING ABOUT LAUNDRY AFTER 30 YEARS OF DOING IT?!" HOLY SHIT THIS GUY REFUSES TO USE A BASKET. HE REALLY NEEDS TO GO.

In the end the laundry always gets done, but along the way you take unexpected losses when something bleeds onto your favorite shirt or shit just straight up disappears. There's a better way to do it and experts that will help, but that costs more money than you want to shell out, and your ego won't let you even ask for that help. You bring your partner and maybe some kids into the mix over the years and now your laundry problems are exacerbated by the choose-your-own-adventure guidelines of your wife's and your kid's clothes. It's either a 40 page document or a never ending lecture: If you're washing this shirt you can either do it on cold with low spin or on delicates, but depending on which one you choose you either don't dry it or you can tumble it on extra low for 3 minutes at a time over the course of two full days, but if you're putting it in with this romper you'll need to use the other detergent because I read that the type of cotton and threadcount combination in these rompers is best washed with a soap blessed by the left-handed monks of Tibet. It has to do with the altitude where it's blessed. I now it's expensive but I subscribed for monthly shipments so I got 3% off! And your kids sneak stained shit into the laundry constantly when they're young because they're just messy as shit all the time. You can't possibly catch all the stains in random places that you're sure you'd have noticed during your load selection process. So just when you think you've pulled off a successful load of laundry you find that you've inadvertantly set the stains in three or four of your wife's favorite outfits for the kids. Eventually your wife makes you stop doing the laundry completely because even though she loves you and you keep getting close to doing it right, it just doesn't ever happen and it's long overdue for a change in laundry leadership. That’s when she brings in the laundry service and starts hitting up the dry cleaner so often you wonder if she’s cheating on you. She's going to do it the right way this time. Of course, all of this dirty laundry gets aired to your friends and family at some Christmas dinner when the wives get drunk and start telling each other stories of how dumb their husbands are. Which is basically the same premise as every detergent or jewelry commercial. “Look at this dumbass over here who thinks gas station roses in clear plastic tubes are a good gift. Ladies, tell your man to stop in to Kay Jewelers today so we can make sure you get the stereotypical gift you should always want, our new chef’s cut pink diamond Hecklace™ surrounded by over one hundred small blood diamonds. We’ve named our new creation the Hecklace to honor the small villages we raze in search of blood diamonds. Typically a hectare in size, these villages are hand selected for destruction to ensure your chef’s cut Hecklace™ is the real deal. When your dumbass husband gets you a cloud he named after you as an anniversary gift, say ‘What the heck!” and get yours today at any Kay Jewelers. Treat yo self. Located only in the most respectable malls in America. Kay. America. God. In that order.”

I guess what I’m saying guys, is that I’m curious to see how trading looks today.