Iodine gargle: do not use

Don't let the hippos fool you.

A Japanese saying reminds us that "good medicine is bitter." Bitter I could handle. "Fruity iodine," there are no words for how bad it tastes. The fruity part doesn't help at all. It's like spraying perfume over a chemical spill. If it weren't for the happily gargling hippos on every step of the instructions, I'd think I'd accidentally ingested something that was meant for cleaning metal or lubricating gears. Not to mention the second horror, when you spit it out in shock and the entire sink looks like a slasher film.  
After that one stomach-turning mouthful, I'm tossing the stuff. Having a sore throat is not that bad.
Why do we even have it? I'll tell you, even though it's embarrassing. I bought it instead of iodide tablets when the nuclear plants were looking wobbly. I knew that a bottle of iodine tincture wasn't even close. But it felt like taking a flimsy umbrella out on a day when a typhoon might hit. You know it's futile, the wrong approach altogether, but you'd feel remiss if you didn't at least try.
The pharmacist said, "It's not the same stuff, but in a pinch, it would be better than nothing to dilute and drink it. But normally, you know,  you shouldn't." What an understatement. I'd have to seriously reconsider how important my thyroid was before I'd drink that.