1. An Acme anvil
A classic. And I’d happily take it straight to the skull if it means I don’t have to hear a second of that wretched Led Zeppelin song. And listen up snooty rock critics, I know that song is about like, Robert Plant’s son or whatever, and I know that shit is sad but you know what else is sad? A weak-ass synth solo that saws your brain in half because it’s not up to snuff. Here are some suggestions to remedy this: if possible, let’s go in and re-record this song with orchestral synth mastermind Hans Zimmer. He’ll add in some slick, brooding arpeggiator shit, some tasteful bleeps, some well-placed bloops, and viola: “All My Love” is now actually listenable. Or, even better, let’s hire some morally corrupt gravediggers and resurrect the corpse of Robert Moog and then have his corpse lay down some sick zombie-synth licks from the great beyond. He’s been dead for what, 14 years? So you definitely know he’s got some never-before-heard synth licks swirling around that dead head of his. Yup, “All My Love” just got 1,000x better, 2,000x spookier, and will now probably win tons of awards because no one’s ever resurrected a corpse and made it re-record synth parts to punch up an old song before. Anyway, if those two options aren’t doable, then yeah, let those Acme goons set up shop in an apartment that overlooks my walk to work and drop that Bible-black death hunk straight down onto me when that song begins to play.
2. A wrench thrown by the ghost of John Bonham
Yup, sure, I’d gladly take a wrench to the side of my face if it’ll distort my hearing enough to not make me hear one note of “All My Love.” John Bonham was the coolest member of Led Zeppelin and getting hit in the auricle region with a wrench thrown by his apparition would be a damn honor. And if I know John, he’s gonna throw two wrenches. One at me, and then a heavier, metal-ier wrench at the thing that’s playing “All My Love.” Why? The first wrench is to knock me out and the second is because he actually went on record saying he “had reservations” about this song and no one took him seriously. This guy rode his motorcycle through hotel hallways, chucked TVs out of windows, threw mattresses into swimming pools, and played twenty-minute drum solos without drum sticks (he used his hands). If he had reservations about something, I would have listened. So please John, throw your damndest, most metal-iest wrenches.
3. A flock of pigeons
Ah, alright. How does this one work though? I’m walking down the street and I catch the beginning sound-whiff of “All My Love” playing from a nearby CVS? Then, all of the sudden, a flock of pigeons start gunning for me? And then they peck and flap their wings at my head, and my ears, and my entire body, and I get flustered and fall to the ground and drop my business briefcase and my important business documents fly out? Then when I’m lying on the ground, cowering and kicking in an attempt to retain physical autonomy, these pigeons continue to peck, squawk, coo, and get ahold of my wallet AND my cell phone? Then they inexplicably start making expensive long-distance phone calls and tearing up my money and credit cards and IDs? And while l’m lying there grief-stricken I realize these pigeons are kinda cold and soulless but their commotion has caused me to worry about my important business documents, my dire financial situation, my soon-to-be very high cell phone bill and NOT realize that the Led Zeppelin song “All My Love” that was just playing from the nearby CVS is now all finished? Ugh! Bravo, pigeons. Well played.
4. A box of VHS Tapes (20 or more)
Wait… what? …I get my walking route to work mixed up, start walking down the wrong street, see some shady guys moving boxes from the back of a van onto a loading dock and then all of the sudden some guy’s like “Hey shit for brains, you lost?! Here’s a box of 20 or more VHS tapes straight to your dome! Bam!” Ooof! Makes total sense though. Because then the VHS tape from the 20 tapes gets wrapped around my head and ears and waist and legs and untangling myself becomes a disgusting, video home system nightmare. But I won’t let my roiling anxiety show, I’ll be cool and stoic and stay focused on walking to work while I nonchalantly drag the remains of 20 or more VHS tapes wrapped around my body. I’ll even pick up my pace a little when a sarcastic youth stands on her stoop and shouts “Here comes the VHS 20 Tape Man! He’s a human husk covered in outdated entertainment!.” My life will be trying after this. Still better than hearing “All My Love” though.
5. A lawsuit
Whatever, don’t care, I’ll go to court. Even if this is some kind of mix-up and the new server guy accidentally handed out the wrong subpoena/summons papers that he was supposed to hand to someone else. Just get me away from that rotten song. I’ll meet with the jurors, I’ll say what’s up to the honorable judge, I’ll laugh out loud when the court officials play the jurors that mandatory video that explains how it’s their responsibility as a US citizen to partake in jury duty. I might even sneak into that small jury room and make some cracks like “Who’s bored?” or “Thanks, Obama” or “This room smells like life, liberty, and the pursuit of farts.” And then, when I’m on the stand doing more lawsuit stuff, I won’t pay attention to the yapping lawyers; I’ll just randomly call out different names in an attempt to guess who the jurors are going to elect as their jury foreman. Whatever, I’ll welcome this confusing rat’s nest of a lawsuit as long as it doesn’t involve a shitty trumpet-synth and the chord progression Am to G to Dm and then a chorus with a C to G/B to Am to F chord progression and THEN a bridge/solo with a Bb to F to Bb to F to Bb to F to C chord progression and then an outro with oh shit, why am I doing this? Now “All My Love” is just playing inside my head. Someone, anyone, please come knock me out.
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