Butter-crunch in the nutbin. Finally some peace with the squirrel nut-puncher gone--off to a land of her own make-believe among the other hoodo-guru's of the once-was and now will-never- again- be.

Wonder how many of these types start out crazy--right from birth--and just have their cloak of protection unfurled by over-indulgent parents and the easiest of roads rolled out before them. How is it that I seem to stumble into these idiots at so many turns of the road? Here's a theory: there are so many more of them than I thought that it is more statistically realistic to bump into them than not. Ever had a really good crash of your car? Seems like the recovery from that experience would be so much less mentally maladorous than trying to clean of the shit-storm left by one of these babbling imbecile in the office

Homeopathic makes me think that it doesn't work and is really just intended for people who believe in spiritual imagery as a healing process. I am not an easily convinced corn-flake of the commercial society the media creates. (Sure, I am a target market in so many ways. . .Just like you) Being susceptible to the pangs of need and want like the rest of our slobbering kind, I went down this homeopathic highway to conquer the mystery cold. (Maybe it is just the lingering death of my soul that is clogging my sinus and causing these neck pains) My conclusion is--since there is no drug-interaction precaution--"Do not take anything other than lemongrass and fruitjiuce, kind crap"--that there is no substitute for OTC drugs to really convince you that a cold's ass can be kicked.

Moronic mumblings.
W