Guest Editorial - Gerald Celente on MF Global

NNVC - maturity knocking

In 2009 I forecast that NNVC could be a triple digit stock (over $100/share) by 2014. That forecast was based on their game-changing anti-viral technology that has the potential to eradicate the most heinous viral diseases known to civilization. No hyperbole, just facts.

It takes time and money to go from here ($0.70/share currently) to there. They have the money now and we have the time.

NanoViricides, Inc. Announces That It Has Submitted a Pre-IND Meeting Request to the US FDA For Its Anti-Influenza Clinical Drug Candidate, FluCide™
Submission Represents a Major Advance for the Company


WEST HAVEN, Conn.--(BUSINESS WIRE)-- NanoViricides, Inc. (OTC BB: NNVC) (the “Company”) announced today that it has submitted a pre-IND Meeting Request to the US FDA. The Company has requested an initial meeting with the US FDA to review the Company’s proposed strategy and plan for conducting safety/toxicology studies and human clinical trials required for approval of its anti-influenza clinical drug candidate, FluCide™ (i.e. NV-INF-1).

“This submission is a major milestone in the Company’s program to obtain US FDA approval for FluCide™,” said Eugene Seymour, MD, MPH, CEO, adding, “FluCide has demonstrated excellent efficacy and safety when treating influenza infections in our animal studies. We anticipate similar strong results in humans when the drug becomes available for human use.”

The Company has submitted required introductory documentation with the meeting request letter in consultation with the Company’s regulatory matters consultants, viz. the Biologics Consulting Group. The Company plans to submit additional briefing documents at least thirty days before the FDA meeting, in compliance with the FDA guidelines.

This pre-IND meeting request submission follows the Company’s recent announcement that it has chosen a clinical candidate, NV-INF-1, in its anti-influenza drug program (FluCide™) to develop for regulatory submissions both domestically and internationally. It is estimated that there are about 50 million cases of influenza annually in the USA alone, and about 250,000 patients are hospitalized for influenza. The Company believes that a single course of therapy that can be easily administered by a medical office is likely to be feasible for out-patients, with no additional follow-on treatment necessary. This expectation is based on the following results from its animal studies: (1) the extremely high treatment effectiveness in inhibiting the cycle of infection, virus expansion and spread of infection and, (2) the significantly long lasting effects of the drug treatment after the drug is discontinued. In addition to out-patients, the Company also plans to develop an indication for hospitalized severe cases of influenza.

The Company has recently announced that it is working on developing cGMP (“current Good Manufacturing Practices”) manufacturing capability for the production of its drug candidates. cGMP manufactured materials will be required when the Company is ready to file an Investigational New Drug (IND) application to the US FDA.

JFK

JFK
May 29, 1917 - Nov 22, 1963
RIP

Hampton Junior High School
Detroit, Michigan
Ninth Grade English
Last class of the day
Principal walked somberly into room
Whispered to teacher
Turns to class
The President is dead.
School dismissed
Go home.

Four friends walking home
Stunned silence
Frozen in time
Filled with fear
and apprehension

Vietnam War
3,000,000 Vietnamese, dead
52,000 friends walking home, dead

Number one song, 11_22_63
Dale & Grace: "I'm leaving it up to you."

Memories of Life

The world would be a better place without leaf blowers. There used to be rakes. They were used to silently sweep leaves into small piles which could be picked up and placed in trash bags. When I was a kid growing up in Detroit, my father, bother and I would get out there on Thanksgiving morning and the three of us would rake up a big pile of leaves and place it just off of the curb at the end of the driveway. In the years before they made burning leaves illegal, my Dad would light a fire and burn the pile off into the crisp autumn air. I can still smell the smoldering mound. Then we would all go inside and watch the Lions game.

Memories of life. Popping up here on my blog from time to time, so that some day my daughters will have a piece of their father to remember and maybe show to their children, who maybe will ask about a photograph on a table or discovered in an old album.

There are some things that are felt but never said. Some questions that get asked, for which are no answers.

Why didn't this one work?

"Your head just inches from my own, your toes cradled beneath mine. Your breathing slow and measured. You lay beside me, safe, content and deeply asleep. Ever so gently your hand slips into mine. Loosely, then tight, then loose again. You are drifting, immersed in some far away dream. Quiet lovers, in soft cadence, intertwined. I could have stayed forever."

These moments I write about; No finer gifts could ever touch my life.

But stories always end,
And if you read between the lines,
You'd know that I'm just tryin' to understand
The feelin's that you lack.
I never thought I could feel this way
And I've got to say that I just don't get it.
I don't know where we went wrong,
But the feelin's gone
And I just can't get it back

Camelback

Friday's have been slow, especially toward the end of the market session. So today I packed up an hour early and climbed up Camelback Mountain. Well, not all the way up. You get to know when your body says, "I'm too young to die," and its time to turn back down.

At a spectacular view of the desert below, I think about the last night we slept together. It has become one of those moments to remember as it is too revealing, too eloquent, to let go. I wrote about one in a previous post:

The closest we ever were as a couple were those special moments on the dance floor, sometimes just locked in a deep passionate kiss....

We were far into our Sunday night, our TV night. The shows and movies were over, the television was off and we were under the covers. I was mostly asleep. She was mostly awake. Out of a quickly forgotten dream, I felt her fingers on my back, up and down, back and forth, slow and methodical. I wondered at first if she was trying to wake me for a quiet, fleeting moment of intimacy. No, her touch was too gentle, too soft, too personal. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not.

I knew that if I awoke, she would retreat, feeling smothered and seek distance. So I didn't stir. I did not want her light, sweet touch to stop, to disappear. Another man might awake and turn toward her. But another man would not be beside her, not this night.

I continue down Camelback, having not reached the peak, full of the memory, the magic, the melody of her touch. She loves me. She loves me not.

Cactus Tree

There's a man who's been out sailing
In a decade full of dreams
And he takes her to a schooner
And he treats her like a queen

Is love just the release of chemicals in the brain to aid in the procreation of the species? Do you know anyone over 50 who is in love?

A girl pours a shot of expresso into my coffee at Starbucks. It's 6:00am and I am not at my best. I think and feel, yes, I can fall in love with her. But all that comes out is a "Thank you," and a one dollar tip. Out of some distant memory I hear Joni Mitchell.

I sent M a text message about our times together. It was too early to call her and by writing it down I wouldn't catch her by surprise. Maybe what comes back is thought out, felt out, honesty.

There's a man who's sent a letter
And he's waiting for reply
He has asked her of her travels
Since the day they said goodbye
He writes "Wish you were beside me
We can make it if we try"

Thirty years ago, by now I would be holding hands with the girl from Starbucks. Small talk chit-chat would have led to the abandonment of our customer-barista roles and lead to the magical creation of chemicals, hope and budding feelings The dance of love. But now the days turn colder, light becomes dimmer, we don't think about love, we think about the end of days. Love never is lost, it just disappears.

There's a man who's climbed a mountain
And he's calling out her name
And he hopes her heart can hear
Three thousand miles he calls again
He can think her there beside him
He can miss her just the same

Then one day we find ourselves in that one last great love of our lives. We won't know when its over until its gone. I can count them all on one hand, the real ones, the great ones, the magical, romantic, intense ones, before they disappeared.

But not this one. I'm not ready to let her go.

She will love them when she sees them
They will lose her if they follow
And she only means to please them
And her heart is full and hollow
Like a cactus tree
While she's so busy being free

Down the foggy ruins of time

Hockey season is back again and once more we have the pleasure of watching Pavel Datsyuk and the Detroit Red Wings. When I was in high school in Detroit, we didn't have a hockey team. But a group of us hockey fanatics would rent out an hour of ice time at the Detroit Skating Club, from 11:00pm to 12:00pm on Saturday nights. It was a badge of honor to be one of the 22 selected to play each Saturday night.

It was also date night. That too was a badge of honor, to bring your date to the arena to watch you play. Yes, those were some strange times. I worked myself up to be a regular of the 22 by skating circles for 2 hours every day after school at the State Fairgrounds arena. One of the other skaters each day was a girl named Sheila Young. She ended up winning a Gold Medal in the 1972 Olympics.

Now some forty years later, I don't skate anymore, I don't play hockey anymore, Saturday night is no longer date night for me, whether in a relationship or not. No, let me take that back. M and I used to go dancing at a club here in Phoenix on Saturday nights. The closest we ever were as a couple were those special moments on the dance floor, sometimes just locked in a deep passionate kiss, with all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves. No hockey game ever compared to those kisses, those dances, those date nights.

All of that is gone now. The skating, the hockey, the date nights, M. It seems that nothing ever stays the same. It changes for the better, it changes for the worse, it changes just for the sake of change. But one thing never changed in all of that. Every time there was the future. Every one of those skates, games, dances, passionate kisses was full of hope and giddy expectation of what would be coming next.

And what came next?

Writing about what was once and forever, my life.


Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

The Moon is a harsh mistress...

....she's hard to call your own.

On Steve Jobs

On the day Steve jobs died, I posted a note to my subscribers regarding the technical analysis of AAPL. One of my subscribers, a very bright and supportive subscriber who has been with me a very long time wrote me an, "how dare you" message, accusing me of an insensitivity that I cannot deny. As an Apple customer, shareholder and advocate since 1987, I could have instead written a sad post of his passing. My bad.

Death follows us with its icy stare and constant patience throughout our lives. For Jobs, death was a part of his life in the later years. No wealth, nor personal accomplishments could possibly compensate for those years he endured, waiting for the end. We all waited with him, knowing there was nothing short of a medical miracle that could stave off the inevitable. His strength and courage right up to the end was an inspiration for all of us who felt we knew him and worked with him every day we opened our MacBooks, or answered our iPhones. I loved that man. Not because I knew him, but because he knew me.

As each of us move toward the inevitable, we have the choice to exert the strength and courage to live our lives with the passion that was Steve Jobs. I have made some extreme decisions along the path that winds through my days. I have hurt myself and those that love me as I always chose the trail least traveled. Along that way, I have touched the beauty and felt the pain that fell upon the life I have chosen to live. Yet nothing I have done can ever be compared with the accomplishments of a man who traveled with death every day of his latter years. We live with his legacy every day, with every key stroke, every ringtone, every iPad.

Steve Jobs is an eternal inspiration and his passing left the world a lessor place, as his life made the world a better place.

Another Sunday Night

These thoughts and feelings were first published here a couple of years ago. I ran across them again tonight. Who was this man so full of hope, expectation and faith? What does he feel, what does think, who does he dream of in the dark corner of another Sunday night?

I am not sure what needs to be said here. The words and melody, a soft and raspy voice, melodious, tranquil; the synthesis of age and beauty creating a portrait of the artist as an old man.

A mirrored testament of a life serene, if only for this passing moment.

Sunday is my personal day, a time for reflection and rest, a day to share some personal joy, or angst as these later years seem to prefer.

Something unwritten, unsaid, seeks release with the harmonies, the words, the music and the sentiment his art.

In the end, subtly and unfinished, it leaves an image of our lives, expressed in a song, delicate, vibrant, eloquent.

It remains one of my favorites, a Best-of-Allan, for all that it says about love and life, for all that is says about you and me.

Find someone to love, then love her.

A