Metro Pulse/Snarls/The Spare Parts Shack

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Get your head handed to you on a platter

by Scott McNutt

A long, long time ago, in a bar long since renamed, a staple of any Scott Miller performance was "Edceptional," a song about the serial killer, Ed Gein. The song's an amazing creation, equal parts horror, humor, and pathos. But more importantly, it has the following line in it: "Ed was always ready to lend you a hand that he kept in his spare parts shack."

Ever since hearing that, I've been fascinated by the concept. Not serial killing; having a "Spare Parts Shack." As with most Americans, maintaining my physical conditioning, while a high priority, remains secondary to guzzling beer and munching cheese doodles. And once you get past 35, everything—and I do mean everything—goes downhill. Chins, bellies, butts—all start trying to do toe-touches from their current locations. Age is not pretty. Plus, since I started playing tennis again, I've been assaulted by a plethora of bodily complaints. I've got a bad back, creaky knees, shin splints, tennis elbow, turf toe, a beer belly, and swimmer's ear, not to mention Bette Davis eyes, which are my real Achilles' heel.

So I've been thinking about getting into better shape. More specifically, I've been thinking about getting younger, better-shaped parts into certain portions of me. Besides the problem parts already mentioned, I could use another face. And more hair. A cast-iron stomach like I used to have would be a real asset. For 10-year-younger versions of any of these parts, I'd gladly trade my entire quotient of excess body blubber. And given no other alternative, I'd even pay money. Out the nose, so to speak.

That's where the "Spare Parts Shack" comes in. I'm thinking of setting up one of my own. There's a whole garden of couch potatoes out there, just waiting to be, ah, rooted out, all of them ripe for offers from the Spare Parts Shack. It's a business idea whose time is at hand. After all, great strides are being made in cloning. True, there are significant legal, ethical, moral, and philosophical challenges to this spare parts concept. That's why somebody who cares should write a column about that. Me? Assuming I have the head for the body parts business, I'll be making money hand over fist!

The possibilities are endless. Think about all the advertising slogans I could use: "Our Knees Won't Cost You an Arm and Leg!" "Remember: You Can't Pick Your Relatives, but You Can Pick Your Nose!" "With Deals Like These, Two Heads Are Better Than One!" "Swap Your Mother's Eyes for Your Father's Nose!" "You Don't Have to Give Your Right Arm to Get a New Left One!" "We Give Excellent Lip Service!" "Throw Your Back Out and Get a New One!" "An Eye for an Eye, a Tooth for a Tooth: Exchanges Are Welcome!"

Customers could start accessorizing their bodies. I'd offer wrinkle-resistant faces. Butts that hold their shape. Legs that don't need stretching. Two-faced people could really have two faces. I could sell real cast-iron stomachs. I'd call them "The Everlasting Grubstoppers." Want the perfect gift for your loved one? Give him the finger, or a piece of your mind. Got a friend who's pig-headed, air-headed, mule-headed, hard-headed, fat-headed, empty-headed, wooden-headed, soft-headed, bone-headed, or just a plain numbskull? Now you can put a good head on her shoulders! On Christmas Eve, instead of assembling toys for the kids, you'll be assembling the kids like toys.

It sends shivers down my spine. I'm going to shake a leg and get my foot in the door early. With just a little blood, sweat, and tears, I'll be thigh-high, or at least knee-deep in moolah. I'll have the world by the...throat.

And to give credit where credit is due, I guess I'll have to cut that ghoul Ed Gein in on a slice, too. Then again, he's dead, so why bother? Oh, there's that clever Miller kid, too. He deserves a pat on the back, doesn't he? Okay, maybe I can help give his career a leg up: Lend an ear to his new CD, Thus Always To Tyrants, available June 12; it smells like a winner to me. And I've got a nose for such things. Now, let's all give Scott a big hand.