Like any other segment of the quasimedical world, chiropractic care has its share of detractors and swear-bys. If you believe the spinal-alignment and vertebral-subluxation pseudosciences are about as valid as the Raelians' views on cloning, read no further. But for those with back problems seeking a cure for pain, chiropractors can make the difference between living the good life and existing with a wicked-ass pain in the neck. Too many doctors of chiropractic will suck you into a system of unnecessary, triweekly visits -- or confuse you with sales pitches for micronutrients, diet aids, magic pillows, or special vitamin supplements. But Dr. Bruns (conveniently located just blocks from downtown Fort Lauderdale) won't waste your time or money. Instead, he'll give you what you need -- a spinal adjustment -- with a modicum of bullshit. After seeing stars for a second, you'll be on the road to recovery, with no pressure to schedule additional visits until that little lightning bolt between your shoulder blades tells you it's time. OK? Good. Now get crackin'.

Why should it be that frugality equals guilt when it comes to picking out caskets and urns for the earthly remains of family? After all, look at how we live our lives: A few of us drive Mercedeses, some Saabs, and most of us, Chevys. Same thing with clothes; most of us buy our duds at Target and the like, while the more ostentatious and well-heeled head to the boutiques. Thus, a strong case can be made for financial consistency for our loved ones even in death. A typical funeral runs about $10,000, but you could shell out half that much with a little careful planning through Alternative Funeral. Some of the firm's burial coffins sell for less than $1,000, while the low-end cremation caskets are $550. The absolutely no-frills "immediate burial," which means no viewing or ceremony, costs as little as $1,345. Your pennywise dearly departed would be proud of you.

In the three years since Yohanny Lopez crossed the Florida Straights on an inner tube, his life has made quite a turnaround. Using his training from the Romeo Y Juliet factory in Havana, Lopez and his uncle George Rodriguez opened Mya Handmade Cigars Factory in an industrial strip near downtown West Palm Beach. Lopez still rolls close to 100 cigars a day, like he did in Cuba, but now he's making money for himself. A steady clientele has discovered the benefits of freshly rolled cigars, and the pair has hired two employees to keep up with demand. Rodriguez lights the stogies for customers and brews potent Cuban coffee to sip in the lounge chairs. They're looking for a more visible location someday, maybe on Clematis Street or near CityPlace, where Lopez would surely be a tourist attraction. Lopez spends every day rolling cigars at a worn wood work station just off the lounge area of the small shop, visible through an open breezeway, so customers can watch. For each cigar, Lopez strips the stems out of the leaves, stuffing together Dominican, Peruvian, and Nicaraguan tobacco. The concoction is pressed in old-fashioned molds, many smuggled out of Cuba, and then rolled in Connecticut-grown wrappers. He doesn't hesitate to say they're better than the ones he rolled back home. "They're fresher," Lopez notes. "Cigars you buy, they're a year old or more. These are fresh, and fresh cigars, there is nothing better." Or cheaper. The stogies start at just $1 for what's the best, slow-burning, and richly flavorful smoke around -- at least without a trip across the Florida Straits.

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