{"id":12969,"date":"2014-11-09T10:00:14","date_gmt":"2014-11-09T15:00:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.toiletovhell.com\/?p=12969"},"modified":"2014-11-08T20:27:53","modified_gmt":"2014-11-09T01:27:53","slug":"whiff-o-the-week-11914","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/toiletovhell.com\/whiff-o-the-week-11914\/","title":{"rendered":"Whiff o’ the Week (11\/9\/14)"},"content":{"rendered":"
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“What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
\nOut of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
\nYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only
\nA heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
\nAnd the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
\nAnd the dry stone no sound of water. Only
\nThere is shadow under this red rock,
\n(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
\nAnd I will show you something different from either
\nYour shadow at morning striding behind you
\nOr your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
\nI will show you fear in a handful of dust.”<\/p>\n

All of our names are written in the dust, for we are naught but dust, and to dust we shall return. It is time now for Whiff o’ the Week.<\/p>\n

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First things first, to the victor go the spoils. As you can see, At the Gates seem to have committed the most egregious offense, though Randall Thor put up a fair fight.<\/p>\n

\"whiffweak\"<\/a><\/p>\n

If you feel that you may best bear the burden of judgment, then put forth a submission for next week. Next Sunday, we’ll be voting on a new, specific whiff category. You’ll notice this week that the whiffs are beginning to get personal, so lest we tear ourselves asunder, I propose that we once again refocus our whiffing on the dregs of metal. Next week’s category:<\/p>\n

What is the most terrible song on an otherwise great album?<\/span><\/p>\n

Submit your entries to the gmail. Well then, let us commence with this week’s competition.<\/p>\n

\n

W.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

The other day someone asked me if I made it to Rob Zombie<\/strong>‘s last concert here in my dusty little town. I did not, although I do think that Mr. Zombie puts on an entertaining live show. His back-catalogue, however, is far from spotless. While ruminating on his career, I remembered this terrible song that used to spin on the local rock station back home. I revisited it, and as suspected, “Foxy, Foxy” is as bad as I remembered.<\/p>\n