The faultlines of writing reveal the truths behind words (or something like that)

It is hard to conceal the truth in words, no matter how carefully chosen they are. The truth, Freudian or even less buried than that, will out in the end - at least under careful scrutiny by someone who knows the subconscious slips and unintentional signalling that go on in language.

The package copy on Bioforce's A. Vogel Echinaforce Resistance Drops reads:
Alfred Vogel crafted his remedies from whole fresh plants, grown and harvested with loving care in his own organic gardens. Those who came to him for help were testament to their value.

Today, A. Vogel tinctures and tincture tablets are made by Bioforce using the same processes developed by the celebrated Swiss naturopath. They still offer the best remedies Nature can provide.
I laugh. I rage. I rant. I rise up.

Crafted, mind; and "whole fresh", what does that mean to say - as opposed to "partial dried", is it? The grammar breakdown in the second sentence reflects the knots the copywriter was tying herself into trying to write something positive that would get past the advertising standards authority. Is that economic value, she's referring to? Hardly, but then again it may have been the only thing she could clutch at.

"Naturopath"? Now, what is your word association for that coinage? Eeee. Eeee. Eeee!

No matter how much the fee might be, I'd like to think we would refuse to contribute to the writing of such non-sense in Penhire, and I don't say that to puff us up, but to suggest that there must be ways of saying SOMETHING appealing and valid, even about tinctures, without resorting to this drivel.

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