Sean Beaudoin lists the ten bands he’ll be forced to listen to in hell, at Salon (thanks to Richard Luckett for the link):
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I’m going to hell. You know it and I know it. But I’m fairly sure it’s not going to be of the William Blake-etching variety. There will be no eternal fire, three-headed dogs, or seas of percolating sinners. There will be no cloven hooves or torture racks or rounds of cribbage with Pol Pot and Hitler. No, my hell will almost certainly take place in a windowless basement room buried deep in the purgatorial nethers. The ceilings and walls will be slathered an institutional shit-brown. I will be in the center of a wet cement floor, Duct-taped to a broken lawn chair, with old Victrola megaphones stuffed in each ear.
And I will sit there. Forever.
Listening to scratchy mp3s at top volume.
For untold millennia.
Not only do I know this treatment is coming, I know I deserve it.