Kachasu

I used to eat a lot of natural foods until I learned that most people die of  natural causes.  I wish my artist would understand this.  But NO.  He is a mumbo-jumbo addict.  If it’s holistic anything he buys in.  I have blogged in the past about the alien fungus he had, or the cure-all syphilnum homeopathic rubbish (sugar pills about the size of pinheads).  Then he spreads this to the children. I don’t mean the fungus or the other stuff – I mean the cure thinking. 

The latest fad doing the rounds in his artsy fartsy circles is an “intuitive pharmacist”.  Yes folks, this is a proper chemist, who just looks at people and gives them over the counter cures.  Somewhat dodgy I think you will all agree.

Of course, everything he says should be taken is homeopathic.  I don’t have the time to get into the evils of homeopathy and the giant scam that it is, so please visit www.quackwatch.com.  I have said it before: How is it that a bottle of Echinacea drops costs more than a bottle of vodka and an entire Echinacea plant from the garden shop? I’ll tell you how:  It is a scam.

Never mind that, now there is a new breed of mumbo-jumbo cretin.  This lot are what they call iridologists.  This means that they take a photo of your eyeball and use it as a diagnostic method for everything possibly wrong with you.  From worms to cancer.  Sure.  (www.quackwatch.com again please).

Before all the homeopathy nuts jump all over me let me state very clearly:  Most diseases are self-limiting.  They do not require medication.  So, regardless of whether or not you are taking corenza c, Echinacea or eating rose petals, that cold is going to go.

Where the mumbo-jumbo gets dangerous is when they claim it can treat serious illnesses.  Like cancer.  Anyone who likes can take me on with this.  My daughter had cancer at the age of three.  Nothing was going to stop her dying other than chemo.

So, now I have artist swigging back loads of Echinacea, toddling off to buy crap from the “intuitive pharmacist” and claiming the fungus is taking over again because he doesn’t want to get out of bed.  Um.  It’s cold and wet today.  I bet nobody sprung out of bed.

These snake-oil salesmen ought to be publicly flogged. And I think My beloved Artist needs a lobotomy.