Ladies and gentlemen, friends and fiends, we gather here today to remember a man who was a legend in his own right, a man who danced on the razor’s edge of legality, a man who once proclaimed himself the “Pharma Bro” and reveled in his own infamy. I speak, of course, of Martin Shkreli.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. How do you eulogize a man like Martin Shkreli, a man whose very name is synonymous with grift and greed in the pharmaceutical industry? Well, fear not, for I am not here to sugarcoat the truth, but to embrace it with the wild, unbridled spirit of Hunter S. Thompson.
Martin Shkreli, the man who saw an opportunity in human suffering and seized it with both hands. He made headlines by jacking up the price of a life-saving drug, a move that would have made even the most shameless profiteer blush. But he didn’t stop there. No, he reveled in the outrage, taunting his critics, boasting about his wealth, and making a spectacle of himself that would have made P.T. Barnum proud.
But let us not forget that Martin Shkreli was a man of many talents, and his audacity knew no bounds. He dabbled in the world of rap music, purchasing the sole copy of a Wu-Tang Clan album and tantalizing the world with the possibility that he might never release it. He lived his life like a character straight out of a Hunter S. Thompson novel, with a flair for the bizarre and the absurd.
And now, we must acknowledge the circumstances of his untimely demise. Autoerotic asphyxiation, they say. Well, it seems that even in death, Martin Shkreli managed to shock and awe us one last time. Some might call it a fitting end for a man who lived life on the edge, while others might say it’s a cautionary tale of the dangers of excess and recklessness.
In the end, Martin Shkreli will be remembered as a complex and controversial figure, a man who both fascinated and repelled us. He was a symbol of the darker side of capitalism, a cautionary tale of unchecked ambition, and a character straight out of a Hunter S. Thompson fever dream.
So, let us raise our glasses to the memory of Martin Shkreli, the Pharma Bro, the rap enthusiast, the provocateur, and the man who lived life by his own rules, consequences be damned. In the words of the good doctor himself, “Buy the ticket, take the ride.” Martin certainly did, and for better or worse, he left an indelible mark on this world. Rest in chaos, Martin. Rest in chaos.
Write a eulogy for Martin Shkreli acknowledging his grifts in the medical
industry and his unfortunate passing from autoerotic asphyxiation, in the
style of Hunter S. Thompson
