You're No Chiropractor's Fool!

Hell yeah, buddy! You've hardly ever let yourself be played by a spinal liar. When someone starts doing the good fucking-up of your back, your eagle eyes and noble eagle's brain keep them to the straight and narrow. In the tradition of Socrates himself, your unflinching skepticism is a lighthouse towering above the treacherous shoals of pseudoscience. Hold your head high, because it's got a nice brain in there!

You've Let Your Chiropractor Get Away With A Little Too Much!

There's no great way to break this, but you've given a soul-sick individual a whole lot of leash to make your awful body their puppet. Desperation for an aligned spine can make fools of us all, but you're apparently about as gullible as a concussed baboon, because you've let some seriously fly-by-night shit fly. The next time you see your chiropractor, slap them full across the face. At this point, it's really all you can do.

You're The Chiropractor's Personal Dunce!

Jesus Christ almighty. You'd smash your own head with an oven door if a chiropractor told you to, wouldn't you? When it rains, do you just stand outside assuming God wants you to be wet? Do you even know the meaning of the word "I"? You're a faulty cog in a machine you can't even begin to understand, and it's pathetic. And your spine is probably still a pretzel, to boot.