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Parting Glances: Chicken nuggets: 3/4 time!

I usually don't read e-mail jokes that arrive unsolicited. (I enjoy doing my own solicitation, in a variety of subject areas, I might add. If you haven't been solicited by me – as yet – what can I say?)
A joke I did allow to filter my SPAM trap concerns an auto mechanic's encounter with a heart surgeon. He invites the physician whose car is in his garage to admire the mechanic's expertise.
"Tell me, doc," asks the mechanic. "Why is it that for my internal tinkering I get only 40K a year and you get one million plus?" "Good question," muses doc. "Have you tried doing your job with the motor running all the time?"
This bit of Internet chuckle neatly dovetails with yet again another paperback compendium of "superfluous factoids about your body" that I recently picked up (for my own edification during those moments of peristalsis-induced meditation that occur on a regular basis – hopefully – to one and all.)
I'm embarrassed to give the title of this 230-page cathartic. It concerns a bodily function that's taboo to the Judeo-Christian world. And I don't mean enjoyable SEX. As I give the title (written by presumably erudite, well-mannered-and-better-bred author – albeit British – Miss Francesca Gould) do have either Kleenex or a handkerchief handy to blow your nose, if indeed you must blow something!
The title (I blush): "Why You Shouldn't Eat Your Boogers & Other Useless or Gross Information About Your Body." (Tarcher/Penguin; 2007) In spite of this marketing lapse of appetite and taste, the content provides a fascinating, articulate read.
Now, without missing a 3/4 beat, back to the subject of hearts. And here's a question you now may feel free to ask at your next cocktail party (say, following so-and-so's announcement of his break up with what's-his-face): "Would the heart keep beating if separated from the body?"
Answer: "If a beating heart is removed from a human body it will continue to beat for a few seconds, and after this it will fibrillate for about five minutes." (By the way, the section,"Could a head remain alive after decapitation?" is a little more promising – and surprising – in terms of survival rate.)
As readers of this column are, much like myself, eclectic in their esoteric take on subjects of preternatural origin (lip-syncing drag queens excluded), this last item from "Boogers" is worth noting. It concerns an American, Claire Sylvia.
In her forties, she suffered from an incurable heart disease and had a transplant. Her new heart gave her new lease on life. Among other things. "Clair survived the operation, but noticed changes in her personality. She found she now had cravings for beer and chicken nuggets, which she had previously disliked.
"She also had strange and vivid dreams about a young man she didn't recognize." [Hold on to your LGBT pacemakers!] "Although she had been heterosexual prior to the transplant, she became attracted to women, especially if they were blond."
Turns out her heart donor was very fond of beer, chicken nuggets, blonds. (But not necessarily in that order.) And wouldn't you know, he was also the guy Clair dreamed about!
I don't know if it's related, but down the street from me there's a holy-roller preacher who recently got transplanted. Big burly. Bully pulpit type. Out to save everybody. Well, it's the damnedest thing. I saw him last Sunday in the market. He was wearing mascara. He looked heavenly, tho' fibrillating a bit at the fruit counter.

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