Because Every Army Must Have A Private Named Jenkins
I was thinking about military tactics before falling asleep last night. Not, like, the best way to kill someone. Bo-ring. The best way to capture someone. You know how the army/police, when they besiege someone they want to capture, will pull out massive speakers and blare out loud music to prevent the person from sleeping, and annoy them, etc? I believe that's what was used to capture Manuel Noriega under George Bush I. It's probably most familiar to you all as what Chief Wiggum attempted to do to capture Bart, Skinner and Krabapple when they hid in the school. That's what I was thinking about.
So anyway, it's a tactic our military uses. And militaries pride themselves at being ready for anything. I bet there's a battle plan for the invasion of any country in the world available in the Pentagon. Even France. Well. . . ESPECIALLY France. So, they probably want to take this music-capture-attack thing and refine it.
I envision a special elite unit of spies and mix CD creators. It's a little-known part of basic training, but every soldier gets the chance to create a mix CD for their drill sergeant. Those who display a knack for finding loud songs that manage to annoy the drill sergeant are considered for this unit.
Those who are selected for USMIX (that's United States Musical Interference......eXperience? eXclamation? Ehhh, fuck it) have two jobs. First, they must study music constantly, and be able to rail off a good music CD, that's between 73 and 74 minutes long, in a matter of moments. Then they must study the psychology of major world figures, to find the perfect style of song that will seriously piss off each individual. For example, and this may end up in my FBI file*, but I'll risk it, the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy would probably be considered pleasant and soothing to most people. But to me, it's worse than Avril Lavigne's sk8er boi.
Excercises for this unit would go like this:
"Gentlemen, Danielle Steele has been discovered to be laundering money to support her puppy-sacrificing habit. We've sent agents to her home, but she's walled herself into her compound, and has been sighted carrying dual sawed-off shotguns. We need a mix CD in the next 10 minutes that will start her off. Then you have 60 minutes to plan the next 12 hours of her musical life. Get to work, gentlemen."
"Sir, I suggest we start her off with Lulu. Never fails."
"Excellent idea, Jenkins! That's yummy in my tummy!"
(obligatory forced laughter from the room)
"Sanchez, you're in charge of the 2AM to 5AM time slot. Her adrenaline will be down, her body will be demanding sleep. Break her."
"Heavy metal, sir. Starts off with a minute or so of slow acoustic melody. She thinks it's time for sleep, and bang! Drums, loud guitars. Her hopes rise, then are crushed beneath our metal wall."
"Get me CDs, Sanchez. It's up to you to make sure this novel doesn't have a contrived, happy ending - except for us!"
*According to rumour, simply attending Antioch College is enough to get an FBI file. At least, it was in the 70's, and that policy may continue today.