In yet another sign of the Trump administration’s all-out war on everything good in the world, on Tuesday the Food and Drug Administration took direct aim at vampires. In a statement, FDA commissioner Scott Gottlieb and Peter Marks, the director of the FDA’s center for Biologics Evaluation and Research, cautioned “consumers” (read: “Nosferatu’s dread offspring, the Vampyr, conductors of the symphony of the night”) against “young donor plasma infusions” (read: “young donor plasma infusions”). Until Tuesday, startup company Ambrosia was offering a service wherein they transfused a liter of young blood into anyone who happened to be feeling an insatiable thirst for blood in exchange for $8,000, a very affordable price point for tech billionaires and minor Eastern European aristocrats alike. According to the stuffed-shirts over at the FDA, however, consuming gallon after gallon of young people’s hearty and nutritious blood has no medical value and can carry significant risks:
Simply put, we’re concerned that some patients are being preyed upon by unscrupulous actors touting treatments of plasma from young donors as cures and remedies. Such treatments have no proven clinical benefits for the uses for which these clinics are advertising them and are potentially harmful. There are reports of bad actors charging thousands of dollars for infusions that are unproven and not guided by evidence from adequate and well-controlled trials.
In response, Ambrosia posted on their website that they have “ceased patient treatments.” Which really seems like giving up too early, at least if you’re familiar with the medical research on this topic. If the FDA is so sure that young donor plasma infusions have none of the anti-aging benefits Ambrosia’s customers are seeking, how do they explain this footage of a young donor plasma infusion from 2000?
Checkmate, Drumpf. But as usual, the only thing worse than the Trump administration’s refusal to accept scientific evidence if it contradicts their political positions is their complete lack of concern for the consequences of their reckless actions. There’s nothing in the FDA’s statement about healthy ways for unholy, undead Americans to taper off their consumption of the blood of young people, and no sense that anyone in the administration is even considering the possible harm of forcing them on a crash blood diet, let alone mitigating them. Those risks are real: Actor Frank Langella, for example, has never completely recovered from being abruptly yanked from young donor blood transfusion clinical trials in the late 1970s:
It’s just another example of the Trump administration blundering around interfering with things they know nothing about like humans at a blood rave. In Reagan’s day, Republicans understood that the price of a liter of delicious young blood should be determined by the free market, not government regulators. But as we’ve all seen, Trump only favors Republican principles when they benefit him personally. It’s probably too much to expect Mitch McConnell to remind the president that he now leads a party dedicated to the idea that the elderly should feast on the blood of the nation’s youth. But could he at least turn the guy into a vampire? On first glance, giving Donald Trump the ability to fly, transform himself into a bat, and feast on the blood of the living seems like a counterintuitive way to stop him from doing further damage to the country or its inhabitants. But Vampire Trump would be the very definition of a short-term problem, eternal life or no. Remember the eclipse?