Dad’s folly

I love my father. I do. He is usually an intelligent man. Usually. Dad’s weakness is anything related to healthy living. He believes the most crackpot, harebrained ideas about the “fad” health stuff. And dear Lord he comes by it naturally. His mom, my grandmother, believes it too.

Every time I go to visit them I come home with a dozen bottles, tubes, and caplets of “stuff” that didn’t work, had bad side effects, was too harsh for grandma’s skin, stomach, scalp etc. “Thanks grandma! You say when you took it you sprouted hair from your tear ducts!! I can’t WAIT to get home so I can try it” Sigh…. Well at least she loves me.

So what was the worst you ask? No questions asked, hands down... the worst was...
Noni Juice.

Noni Juice. (I’m suppressing an involuntary shudder) Noni juice is undoubtedly the nastiest stuff I’ve ever tasted. It is juice from a berry on some isolated island where people seem to live forever. So of course it’s due to the Noni Juice, not the high exercise, low fat diet of the people.

The taste… How to describe the taste… ok…
1. Gather dirty gym socks.
2. Soak socks in brine for a week.
3. Use aged brine to wash a dead raccoon.
4. Drink
(But, I mean that in the nicest possible way!)

Yep that’s about right. I don’t care if I can live an extra 10 years by drinking 4 oz of Noni Juice ever day. That is worse than dying early.