Weekend Update: Rhinovirus
In the Times this morning, news that scientists may really have figured out how to defeat the common cold — but also that big pharma will be disinclined to make the necessary investment in a cure for a “minor nuisance.” (Nicholas Wade reports). Regular readers may recall that I have an idea for re-inclining the drug companies to do their jobs. Patent protection for valuable medicines ought to be coupled with the obligation to develop less remunerative remedies.
But then, I am the worst sort of elitist socialist.
Kathleen has been working late all week, rushing for a deadline that will fall early tonight. (She doesn’t have Monday off, but since neither her clients nor the SEC will be making or receiving phone calls, she is looking forward to a quiet day.) I’ve been devoting the long evenings to the ongoing game of I Am My Own Executor, in which I go through drawers, closets, manila folders, and whatnot in a terrifying Stalinist purge of Expendibilia. Great bags of old newspaper clippings, expired subscription offers, and such superseded essentials as Avery labels for floppy disks are hauled to the garbage chute.
As if honor my efforts, the building’s latest and rather sketchy stab at refurbishment has adorned the door to what used to be known as the “trash room” with a handsome brushed metal plaque that says just that, “Garbage Chute,” in Gill Sans Bold. It’s enough to make one look for the red circle crossed by a blue bar , saying something like “Tower Hamlets.”