TheLionofwallstreet
Oct 26, 9:32 PM
$AIM High up in the steep mountains of clinical trials lived a tiny engine named Ampligen. He wasn’t one of the shiny, billion-dollar locomotives from Big Pharma. No private jets, no army of marketing cars, no endless coal from deep-pocketed investors. Ampligen was small, a bit battered from years of rough tracks, and ran on something the bigger engines mostly ignored: pure, stubborn belief that he could help people the others had written off.
One day a long train of patients rolled into the station. The cars were heavy—metastatic pancreatic cancer, the kind of mountain that kills more than 100,000 people a year in the U.S. and Europe alone. Other engines had tried the climb. Some had given up. Some had chugged a little ways then stalled. The big engines looked at the load and said, “Too steep. Too toxic. Not worth our coal.”
Ampligen rolled up, smaller than the rest. “I think I can,” e said.The bigger engines laughed.“You’re just a little dsRNA engine. You don’t even have a full FDA
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