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  • Pharma Bro - From Wu Tang to Poontang


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    this time he's stealing hearts

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    Despite being behind bars “Pharma Bro” Martin Shkreli just can't stop making headlines.

    Apparently one New York journalist did get a bit lost in Martin’s sauce, as a new Elle feature reveals how former Bloomberg News reporter Christie Smythe fell in love with the notorious grifter while covering his various legal battles and controversies. Smythe would eventually leave her husband and career for a relationship with the 37-year-old, who is currently serving a seven-year sentence.

    “I fell down the rabbit hole,” Smythe told Elle of her life-changing relationship. “I’m happy here. I feel like I have purpose.”

    Smythe, who has sold the movie rights to a book about Shkreli, is still planning to wait for her boo behind bars, even though (mild spoiler alert) he now isn’t speaking to her because of the Elle story.

    “Mr. Shkreli wishes Ms. Smythe the best of luck in her future endeavors,” a statement from Shkreli said to the magazine.

    Before getting entangled with one of the most hated people in the world, Smythe lived “the perfect little Brooklyn life” with her dog and husband. Now she works out of her Harlem basement apartment waiting for Shkreli — a man best known for jacking up the price of life-saving drugs. She also froze her eggs to make sure they would be able to have children once her “life partner” is released from prison.

    “I’m gonna try,” she said. “I’ll be here.”

    Smythe began reporting about Shkreli for Bloomberg in 2015, covering his various trials and visiting him in prison, before eventually quitting her reporting job over the relationship in the summer of 2018. Smythe described the development of their romance as “incremental decisions, where you’re, like, slowly boiling yourself to death in the bathtub.”

    Eventually she confessed her love for Shkreli in a prison visitation room that smelled like chicken wings. “He told me he loved me, too," she told Elle. "It’s hard to think of a time when I felt happier.”

    Fellow journalists and others online poked fun at this whirlwind romance between a successful reporter and the man who paid $2 million for a Wu-Tang record.

    She seems perfectly stable

    https://twitter.com/ChristieSmythe

    elle-christiesmythe-tompkins-16-16084238 

     

     

     

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    Just when you think you’ve seen all the craziest people 2020 has left to offer, a new contender emerges. 
     

    I liked the chicken wing odor references, really humanizes their forbidden love.  

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    6 hours ago, Steel Shank said:

    Watch out for chicks named Christie/Kristi/Christy.

    Especially Kristis.  With the heart over one or more i.

    The kurrent leader in the krazy Kristi klubhouse.

    200813-kristi-noem-mn-0955_d8575c14ce86b

    Edited by TwiceHorn
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    58 minutes ago, Pato del Muerto said:

    Aside from the print, there’s the fact that only religious zealots wear dresses where the neckline is the neck and the hemline is the toes. 

    oh don't think the religious part is lost on me.  you're totally correct.  and the blousy shoulders?  I'll admit, her dress is so bad I thought for sure she had to be one of my people for a second because no woman in midlife dresses like that unless they have no idea or they are religious nuts.

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    the woman makes a living framing narratives for stories involving people of much import.  She's been a part of more editorial sessions in a month than any of us will in a lifetime.  And ya'll think she wore that dress because she didn't know any better?  She couldn't be trying any harder to lay groundwork for the parole committee if she was actively blowing them right now.  Which, let's be honest...is a distinct possibility given what we know about this woman.  

    I feel really bad for that husband simply because of how bizarre the story of his divorce will sound to people.
     

    Ex:  "Christie left me for another man.  A pharma CEO."

    Friend:  "That's rough man.  Women do that sometimes, they fall for the money and the prestige." 

    Ex:  "This guy doesn't have money anymore.  He's Shkreli.  The most hated man of 2016.  Went to jail for price-fixing life-saving drugs, securities fraud, and lying to Congress."  

    Friend:  "Man, that's rough.  Maybe it's just a physical thing then...you know how mid-life hits some women."

    Ex:  "Here's a photo of him."
    Friend:  "What the fuck?  I mean, sorry man.  For what it's worth...he looks like what a date-raping gerbil in a fraternity would look like if that was a real thing.  Anyway, they're probably not even in love or talking in person anymore..  I mean, there's a pandemic."  

    Ex:  "She still visits him in prison despite the pandemic.  And they publicly admitted to loving one another in Elle and New York Magazine."

    Friend:  "That's fucked up.  I'm sure it's temporary.  She's not making any long-term plans to be with this guy.  She'll come back to you."

    Ex:  "She froze her eggs to bear his children down the road in case he gets turned down for parole.  She moved all her shit out and is living in a basement apartment in the South Bronx.  She got rid of all her fashion and started dressing like an Auntie from 'The Handmaid's Tale.'  And although she never did meal prep a day of our marriage, she's taken up cooking chicken wings for some strange fucking reason.  Last thing she said to me was some kinda weird metaphor about being boiled alive in a bathtub.  I don't know if that's about the boiling chicken wings or that I wasn't a good listener.  Why are you making that face?"

    Friend:  "Me, what?  Nothing.  I was gonna tell you maybe this happened for a reason.  That it's for the best.  But you know you're gonna be dead by sunrise, right?"  

     

    Edited by Lobo
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    I love everything about this story and can think of no better karmic justice for Shrekli than to have this gal and her obsession problem.  This long story is worth the read.

    https://www.elle.com/life-love/a35021224/martin-shkreli-christie-smythe-pharma-bro-journalist/

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    Smythe has only one photo of the two of them, propped next to her bed. Shkreli, his arm around Smythe, has a wide-open smile. “Doesn’t he look human there?” Smythe says, laughing. Cushenberry made a blanket for Smythe with the photo on it, with a caption that reads, “All my better days are the ones spent with you.” I tell Smythe I’ll need to ask Shkreli for comment. “Maybe this will be a reason for him to reach out to me,” she says. Later, when I relay Shkreli’s statement—“Mr. Shkreli wishes Ms. Smythe the best of luck in her future endeavors”—to Smythe via video chat, she says, “That’s sweet,” quietly, not convincingly. 

    I can’t gauge Shkreli’s motive, and ask Smythe what she thinks. “That’s him saying, You’re going to live your life and we’re just gonna not be together. That I’m going to maybe get my book and that our paths will”—she sighs—“will fork.” She tears up, and I think about what her journalism professor said, about everyone having an agenda. Watching Smythe, I finally realize her motive for telling her story. She wants Shkreli, and hopes putting their love on the record might at last give her some power in the relationship. “He bounces between this delight in having a future life together and this fatalism about how it will never work,” Smythe says. “It’s definitely in the latter category now.” Sitting in her basement apartment, her eyes wet, her voice quavering, she says she will continue to wait for him while he serves the remaining years of his sentence: “I’m gonna try,” she says. “I’ll be here.”

     

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    “Maybe this will be a reason for him to reach out to me,” she says. Later, when I relay Shkreli’s statement—“Mr. Shkreli wishes Ms. Smythe the best of luck in her future endeavors”—to Smythe via video chat, she says, “That’s sweet,” 

    dumb and dumber there's a chance GIF | b-reddy.org

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