Tom: Why should the devil have all the good music?
Harry: You mean like Bach?
Tom: No, not like—
Harry: Haydn? Monteverdi? Tallis? Josquin des Prez?
Tom: No, like modern stuff.
Harry: Arvo Pärt?
Tom: No, he’s—
Harry: John Tavener?
Tom: No, he’s too churchy. That’s not what I’m referring to.
Harry: Eric Whitacre?
Tom: Who? No. I don’t know who that is.
Harry: Who are you talking about?
Tom: I mean, like, The Flaming Lips. The Flaming Lips are amazing. They—
Harry: Never heard of them. Do they sound like Chumbawamba?
Tom: What? No. Not at all.
Harry: Chumbawamba isn’t churchy.
Tom: That’s not my point.
Harry: I bet the devil likes Chumbawamba.
Tom: Why?
Harry: They’re not churchy. Neither are The Black Eyed Peas. Do they belong to the devil?
Tom: I don’t know.
Harry: You said the devil shouldn’t have all the good music and I wondered if you were referring to “My Humps.”
Tom: Obviously not. That song is terrible.
Harry: Does the devil think it’s terrible, too?
Tom: Look, my point is—
Harry: Your point is the devil likes The Black Eyed Peas.
Tom: Geez, there’s no talking to you. I’m going home.
Harry: Have fun listening to Chumbawamba with the devil.
