Somebody over at Cafe Pharma appears close to a complete break-down . . .

In a post below I gave you a glimpse of what people write on Cafe Pharma when they don't like my book "The Whistleblower." I thought that was kind of the end of it.

It wasn't. I checked back today, and the person has continued to write.

Oh well, that means I don't have to come up with a post. Here is the continued story, as told by someone inside Pfizer. At least we think the person is inside Pfizer, since he/she seems to take all of this really personally.

Again, I apologize for all profanity, but this blog doesn't censor when quoting others:


Peter Rost:

[making a phone call, quickly punches in a phone number, glances quickly back to a flickering computer screen, pan across a dark, messy home office, the floor is covered with old printouts of Pfizer press releases, an old press photo of Fred Hassan marked up with doodles of targets, daggers, and pistols, a copy of “Girls Gone Wild, Swedish Edition”, an old nude photo of Mikael Olsson – focus on a dog-eared copy of Hank McKinnell’s “A Call To Action”]

Kristin Pulkkinen:

[hesitates, reaches for the phone, draws back, then reaches again and finally picks up, speaking gingerly]

“Hello?”

Rost:

“Hi Kristin, it’s Dr Rost calling”

Kristin:

[covers mouthpiece; rolls eyes, grimaces and silently mouths “FUCK!]

“Yes Peter”

“What do you want now?”

Rost:

“ddddd don’t hang up! Kristin, just wait, please don’t hang up!”

Kristin:

“Peter, I’m this close to calling the cops. These calls HAVE got to stop.”

[mutters under her breath]

“Fucking Richard and Sarah”

Rost:

“But Kristin, this whole thing is beginning to pick up – have you checked out our Amazon rank? Have you?!? We’re already up to #443. The press release worked… people care, they really care… they do!

Kristin:

[bored look on her face, walks across a small living room and stares out the window of a modest Brooklyn apartment]

“Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the book or your ridiculous press release, OK? And I really don’t care about Pfizer, or some dumb corporate lawyer who’s making an ass of himself in court. NOBODY CARES! Do you understand me? Look, Peter, it wasn’t my idea to publish your book… frankly, I don’t think it’s even worthy of being called “a book”… truth be told, it’s a goddamn manifesto, the work of a crazy person. You need help – you’re playing out some weird inferiority complex. I get it. Peter, I may have only gotten a B minus in psycho 101, but I know you’re not well…

You need help!”

Rost:

[interrupts, stammering]

“Bbbb bu, bu, but Kristin, you’re like all the rest, you DON’T get it!”

“I’m important [now staring into a full length mirror on the back of a bathroom door, a picture of Jeffrey Wigand taped on one side, Russell Crowe on the other]

“I’m Dr. Peter Rost, the World’s most important whistleblower! Goddammit!” [now swinging to anger, face turning beet red]

“They should have given me a job… and now they’re going to pay! [a wild look comes onto Rost’s face, his eyes appear to glaze over, he seems to be entering a trance and he takes on the look of Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner telling the wedding guest his awful tale about killing the albatross]

“I’m gonna show Marie-Caroline who’s boss now… she’ ll regret all those condescending e-mails. You don’t AtS Rost and get away with it! They WILL be sorry they crossed Dr Peter Rost! This time, they fucked with the wrong guy! Didn’t count on the blog, did they? Didn’t count on my book? Didn’t think I would stay on the case and spend my own money on press releases… “

[continues a long, rambling rant alternating between crying and shouting in anger]

Kristin:


“O-KAY, that’s it. Good BYE Peter. Do not call back. The next time you call, I call the cops. Please, please, please, please seek therapy, OK?

Buh-bye now.”

[slams the phone down and picks it up quickly; aggressively punches in a new phone number, now very agitated]

“RICHARD! You motherfucker! Do you know who just called me for the 40th time today? Richard, this is unforgivable… I don’t make enough to put up with this crap. This is abusive Peter, and you know it. He’s crazy! He’s completely obsessed with Pfizer and Jeff Kindler, and Hank McKinnell, and Karen Katen, and how everyone in the world is monitoring his phone calls and e-mail, and how he hated reporting to some guy named Eric Sirota… I have to listen to his research on the cost of corporate jets, read e-mail from ditsy blondes who read his blog… I can’t believe you put this on me!

Richard? RICHARD! You asshole, how dare you hang up on me?”