You’ve no doubt seen the ubiquitous Chicken Soup for the Soul books. Like rabbits in Australia, they’ve multiplied at bookstores, and have even speciated into many varieties, Chicken Soup for the Grandparent’s soul, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, Chicken Soup for the Chinese Jewish pre-Teen Skateboarder’s Girlfriend’s Soul, ad infinitum. Assuming that everything written in books is literally true, this would tell us that not only is there a soul, but that chicken soup is a curative for it’s presumptive ills. This would further imply that the soul is a thing not just requiring God to set it in motion, (or perhaps Odin to hand it an iron sword and a hat) but also nourishment. This leads to an inevitable conclusion:
The soul would likely require Soul Food. I await BBQ Ribs for the Cardiac Surgeon’s Soul.