Even the best of the tabloideers have terrible blindspots.
It's even more farcical to call INSY a marijuana stock than Scotts Miracle Gro. The lawn and garden company has a sideline subsidiary that concentrates on hydroponics but there is no longer much need to hide the marijuana growing indoors and large, beautiful, uniform produce has no advantage for cannabis growers.
For its part, INSY will continue to have the majority of its revenues come from Subsys, non-generic fentanyl if you insist, into the foreseeable future. Subsys is the fastest method of relief of extreme pain of dying patients and the least likely to cause addiction of patients. It is not any kind of street drug.
The hysterics pinpointing INSY's legal operations that came from all sides, from Trump to Elizabeth Warren, are obviously easing and - miracle of miracles - INSY's sales of Subsys even seems to be growing as the better, safer, fastest alternative to relieve extreme of breakthrough cancer pain.
In my mind withholding such a drug from those in extreme pain is equivalent to the 19th Century amputations without any available anaesthetic beyond whiskey. I doubt many dying cancer patients even get whiskey.
Meantime INSY's arsenal of drugs, approved and in development, is growing like - a weed. It includes even a drug that might save many from dying of overdoses.
All JMO.
I dreamed I stood upon a hill, and, lo! The godly multitudes walked to and fro Beneath, in Sabbath garments fitly clad, With pious mien, appropriately sad, While all the church bells made a solemn din -- A fire-alarm to those who lived in sin. Then saw I gazing thoughtfully below, With tranquil face, upon that holy show A tall, spare figure in a robe of white, Whose eyes diffused a melancholy light. "God keep you, strange," I exclaimed. "You are No doubt (your habit shows it) from afar; And yet I entertain the hope that you, Like these good people, are a Christian too." He raised his eyes and with a look so stern It made me with a thousand blushes burn Replied -- his manner with disdain was spiced: "What! I a Christian? No, indeed! I'm Christ." - The Devil's Dictionary
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