Hail Schubert, King of Cats


Every community needs an identity, a symbol, something with which members can identify, a rallying banner to muster hope and courage. When we started the Toilet ov Hell, we had no banner; the comments were rife with anarchy, and criminals and pirates prowled the forums, seeking to devour innocent lurkers. Then, when it seemed all hope was lost, a light shined forth upon us from the blackest pit, a consuming void called Oklahoma. Oddly enough, that light took an unexpected form, one of a lazy, somewhat obese (though Stockhausen denies it) cat who lived for luxury. Schubert, in all his ridiculous glory, became our hairball-spewing, fat-rolling champion, leading us to victory with siqq riffs and healthy competition every Saturday as the smiling, toxoplasmosa-ridden face of riff of the week. This cat was the hero we needed and the one we deserved. Sadly, Wednesday night, our hero passed from this cruel mortal plane, but in doing so, he became a legend, one that will forever linger on the tongues of metal pundits and poop fetishists seeking communion and companionship in the darkest corners of the internet.


As 2014 approached its grand finale, the blog was in a state of disarray. Year end lists had left their chaotic mark on the content. Regular writers were burning out. The looming threat of holiday cheer was subverting the normal angst that fuels metal commenters. Frankly put, we needed a hero. That hero came to us On the 20th of December, 2014, as the new face of Riff ov the Week. No one will ever forget that night and what it meant for this blog. But I will never forget the cat and what he meant to me.

Schubert was a silly, mirth-filled cat who brought cheer to all around him. It was Schubert’s love and inability to hold his liquor that allowed me to overcome my fear of cat allergies and to embrace the toxoplasmosis parasites infecting my brain. It was Schubert’s joviality and laughable rotundity that brought healing and conviction to my marriage and finally allowed me to face my inner demons. It was Schubert’s grace and oafishness that taught me how to grieve when my wife and I lost our own cat Dr. Whiskers. Schubert, in his infinite wisdom, taught this blog how to succeed, and we owe our lives to this cat.

Schubert dwells within the memory of the hallowed bowl, and though his mortal coil has passed, his spirit will forever smile upon us, for he continues to live on within our hearts, minds, and lolbuttz. When you look at your fellow Toileteer, know that you have gazed upon Schubert’s soul. He was Karlheinz Stockhausen. And he was my father, and my mother, my brother, my friend. He was you, and me. He was all of us.

RIP Schubert, Lord ov All Cats and Metal


All hail.

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