Honey
The most annoying thing that I was told by a publicly-assigned (i.e. socialist) general practitioner, before I was “rostered” (banned) by him from access to any other doctor in Ontario (several million patients have been effectively “rostered” in this province), was this: I must not consume honey. Being denied all use of doctors and therefore prescription drugs has proved good for my health. It immediately improved when I was cut off all of the many medications I was instructed to take after my heart attack and stroke, four years ago. I’ve now been free of the expense and nuisance of them for a couple of years. But were I to stop putting honey in my coffee (and by preference, a little too much), my health would have been seriously compromised.
My mother gave me the most permanently useful medical advice. It was not to trust doctors. She was a widely experienced registered nurse — a ward matron — and to be fair, she allowed that one might use surgeons occasionally, in a pinch. “Trust, but verify” is the Russian proverb that Ronald Reagan famously translated. (It rhymes, in Russian.) But always, be sceptical.
Honey has magical properties. It is not like human-refined sugars, or any of the poisons used as sweeteners today. It cures diabetes, for instance; most alternative substances are likely to cause it. Bees of several species produce honey, and stockpile it in their hives for general use; but God was its inventor. If you carefully examine a pure honey, you will see that this is the case, and that my former general practitioner’s disbelief in God will tell against him. I have warned him that he risks burning, perpetually, in Hell.