Bernie Madoff was sentenced to 150 years in prison late last month. I sat down with one of Madoff’s victims and got his reaction to the sentencing as we listened to it being read live on CNN. The victim was a scientist who wished to remain anonymous:
Boy, am I happy to see this pile of dog crap go down. I am literally estatic. After bilking myself and all those other people out of all their money, it literally brings a smile to my face to see him go to jail for the rest of his life. It almost makes me as happy as I was when I designed that pill that slows the agiing process.
I’ll never forget the day I met Bernie. He came into my lab. I shouted at him to not bump into any of the beakers. He smiled confidently. Looked me in the eye. Winked. Said, “Boy, do I have a deal for you.” To which I replied, “Hold on just a second there, Bernard. I’m working on this serum that will inevitably extend the human lifespan beyond any time frame our kind imagined was possible in our wildest dreams.”
Bernie explained how I was going to profit off of his plan. It sounded too good to be true. It was so appealing to my ears, it almost derailed me from my groundbreaking DNA research, in which I clone human cells and replicate them in order to stave off death. I told him he was nuts, but he made me believe. He was so suave. So reassuring. So charming. I felt safe giving him all my money. Almost as safe as I do when I go cliff diving, during which I cannot possibly die, due to my advanced work with the human genome which I directly benefit from, as do my friends and business associates.
Bernie would take me out for lavish dinners. He always picked up the tab. He was loaded. I should have seen it coming; anyone could have realized that the man lived beyond his means. In fact, one time he went to pick up a hefty tab when we each had at least seven chocolate sundaes each. Of course, neither of us worried about our health, as at the time I’d done enough work to allow anyone who took my antidote to reach the ripe old age of 120. And of course I shared that antidote with Bernie, one of my most trusted advisors. At the time.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. Bernie got richer, and my pill that fights diseases and the aging process got better and better. It was like clockwork – Bernie buys a yacht, I design a revolutionary medical procedure that gets you to 135. Bernie buys a diamond encrusted tennis racket, my miracle drug gets you a century and a half on Earth. It was beautiful. But it all came crumbling down when I realized that Bernie had swindled me. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. The only thing that kept me from leaping off a high rise was the fact that I possessed the formula to an absolute medical marvel that can keep sickly old people from slipping into their ultimate demise. I was sad though. I gained about 100 pounds from eating so damn much. It would have killed me, if I wasn’t the smartest scientist ever, figuring out a way to ameliorate the horrors of old age. And cheat sure death.
I actually put a bunch of chips and hot dogs in a blender and drank it down. That’s how confident I was I wasn’t going to have a heart attack. It wasn’t even good. Still can’t figure out why I did it.
Before he went away, he told me that he had stolen some of my pills, but it was of no matter. I’m sure that whatever sentence he gets will keep him locked away in the confined Hell that he deserves to inhabit for the rest of his life. And I will make all my money back, as I’ve devised a medical wonder that can allow you to live 150 years past your normal life span!
Wait…did he just get sentenced? My bad, I wasn’t paying attention. What did he end up getting?