Dear CK: The moral I get from your tale is that you should sophisticate the victuals of such a harpy if you can get away with it. True, the best of attentions are not always appreciated. I remember an elderly Scots lady who came into the ER, having fallen on the stairs at home. I decided to have her kept in the hospital overnight for observation. Something told me she might be a candidate for DT's. So I decided to give her some paraldehyde, which was the only thing suitable available over fifty years ago. It tastes god-awful, and makes breath smell even worse, so it is hardly used at all now. I knew I would have to con her into taking it, so I told her I thought she needed something for her nerves. She brightened up perceptibly, and said bravely, that if it were for her own good, she'd take it. So I told her that I thought she needed a little whiskey. She brightened up very obviously, and said even more bravely that if it were for her good, she'd take it. So then I told her that she had to understand that the hospital whiskey was awful cheap and bad tasting. She still was brave. So she took the glass and downed the shot, coughed and glared at me furiously. "Ah'v dronk mony a glass of cheap whusky, but none so cheap as that!"