If vice is only virtue in disguise, my face is a permanent Joker. I think of when I was 3 or 4 and I'd stand in the middle of the floor and spin until the dizziness made me fall down. Maybe rolling up in a blanket on the floor and then tumbling down the stairs was an indicator, too. I just liked to get brain dizzy. 1000 inebriations plus an = number of up-in-smoke eurekas plus a few merges-with-the-cosmoses later, some things never change. You can never doubt the power of the waist(line).

Feeling good is a workable goal. Improving what works is the new brain dizzy. Blending what works creates side effects which can take away from that good feeling, ergo the quest for the silver bullet. It must address the physical and mental. No suppressed feelings made from laughter, tears, befuddlement, even from climaxing.

The main ingredient is perfect. The assistance seems proportional and the thanks are soul sourced.