Cults come in many shapes, sizes and forms, not all of them involving a charismatic figurehead, secluded hideaway, or cache of weapons. Sometimes, as in Netflix’s lively new Sackler family takedown Painkiller, the angels of death are short-skirted sales reps, heroin Barbies who scream their heads off at sales “conferences” and seduce doctors with gifts, hefty speaker fees, and, sometimes, sex. They’re paid handsomely, plied with Porsches and luxury apartments, all for spreading the lethal lies that Oxycontin isn’t terribly addictive and doctors are professionally if not...
- 8/10/2023
- by Chris Vognar
- Rollingstone.com
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