The DeStocker got up this morning, gave Mrs. DeStocker a goodbye buss as she headed off to her soul-crushing-but-economically-prudent-job, and sat down to his traditional homemade breakfast of coffee and an omelette aux fines herbes. While engaging in his daily curse-a-thon towards FreshDirect's lack of chervil, he decided to start a blog.
Yes, I will be blogging. While wearing pyjamas, of course, because that's the only truly authentic way to blog - much like how the Amazon.com guys started the company in a garage even though they could afford an office, because all good companies get started in a garage, right? Actually, the best bloggers blog naked but I think the cable guy is coming today and I don't want to give him ideas. I saw something similar to that in a movie once and it didn't end well.
As my deepest thoughts devolve to what I might want to make myself for lunch, I realize that I should probably return to the original subject of this blog: healthcare stocks. Yes, I was once a professional stock-chooser on behalf of a hedge fund or two. And like many of the professional stock-choosers, my tenure in that role has come to a sad end. Not really that sad, actually, as I can pretty definitively say that obsessing about whether or not Celgene is going to miss or beat the quarter is no way to spend a life. But since I am now looking for a new job and I realize that I should probably maintain some semblance of conversational ability with the healthcare stocks (so I can tell my colleagues in the stockroom what I used to do for a living), I will happily share my thoughts with you, the interweb-reading public, unless it becomes boring or I find something better to do or learn how to knit or something.
Today I am a sad witness to the departure of one of the all-time great biotechnology stories; a company that will be remembered as a hotbed of innovation and an incubator of talent, with great products and a rich corporate culture. It's almost like saying goodbye to an old friend. I am referring, of course, to CV Therapeutics.

I think this photograph, taken at NASDAQ opening bell ceremony in February 2008, says it all. Look at the beaming faces of all the corporate participants, except for Lou Lange - he gazes at his hands with downcast eyes, noting the lines and calluses in their rough-hewn form, knowing that the end is coming and that the eventual fruits of his labor will be bittersweet, like a partially-poached quince.
I thought for ease of reference I'd create a nice little table that summarizes the differences between CV and some other company that recently got taken out by a bunch of cantonese
Some other company | CV Therapeutics | |
Strategic genius | Art Levinson | Lou Lange |
Blockbuster product that shocks everyone with its efficacy, safety, and tolerability | Avastin | Ranexa |
Slightly disappointing product that does not live up to commercial expectations | Raptiva | er, Ranexa |
Deft strategic move | Cabilly reexamination | Aceon |
Kind of uncool | Suing City of Hope | Pretending MERLIN was positive |
Reason for takeout | A highly evolved version of insider trading | The Kasparovesque strategic moves of the Silver Fox |
Place your bets on | C-08 | Over/under on first generic filing |
Finally, the best part about this transaction has been watching the reaction of sell-side analysts who cover Gilead, and who previously wouldn't deign to sneeze on CV Therapeutics if their QT interval depended on it. All of a sudden, this is a great opportunity to talk about darusentan! Of course, darusentan has to work now, otherwise Gilead has wasted a billion dollars. Or, more accurately, has wasted an additional $1.5 billion after buying darusentan in the first place for $2.5 billion (I am not ascribing any value to ambrisentan because, as far as I can tell, its only purpose was to distract hedge fund analysts into complicated cross-border shorts of Actelion, thus distracting them from engaging in profitable pursuits like buying CVTX long).
Really, folks, this relationship needs to come to an end.
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