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Here’s a dispatch from Nadia Pflaum, frequent HH&HW-goer and discerning hip-hop critic.

With all apologies to AJ, the originator and booker of Hip-Hop and Hot Wings every Sunday at the Peanut: Last Sunday’s special guest performer, Louis Logic from New York, was SOFA KING WE TODD DID. This nancy shows up with his receding hairline-Afro, in a professor jacket and jeans, grabs a mic and starts cleverly dropping names (“I dedicate this to all those Charles Bukowski fans out there”) and reciting a soul-searching monologue straight out of a Friends script about the wacky world of picking up girls in the big city. Imagine every theater geek you ever knew in high school who left for New York City to “make it big” and you’ve got this guy pretty much figured out.

Here’s a little more Louis Logic, as told by Louis Logic, thanks to his masturbatory MySpace page bio:

LL’s a dork, even on the subway.

“I’ll begin by saying that I grew up in suburban Long Island, a mixed kid (Black, Puerto Rican, who knows what?) adopted by a white NYPD cop and a feisty Italian woman from Queens. To put a musical face on this picture, the hallways in my house echoed with Frank Sinatra, not the soulful Motown hits so often associated with the beginnings of a rap career. Suburban white kids in the 80’s were just as enraptured by black culture as they are today, and since that was true in my neighborhood too, it wasn’t long before I was break-dancing to U.T.F.O. records with the same kids who once mocked my parted, Frederick Douglas looking Afro. “

End quote. Fucking retch. [Links added by editor; Frederick Douglass’ name misspelled by Louis Dipshit Logic.]

I don’t know how to adequately explain how sorry like Atari this dude was. As he rapped over shitty beats and then sat in front of a Casio keyboard to demonstrate his ability to accompany himself, Stevie Wonder-style, I felt like I should maybe avert my eyes, like at any minute Louis was going to whip out his blankie and start singing softly to himself in a mirror and undressing, like maybe he forgot and thought he was all alone in the bedroom of his moody Brooklyn flat and not performing for 150 people at a downtown KC bar.

Anyway, if Sprite wants to retire that plastic action-figure guy from the �hood that they use as a spokesperson and replace him with Louis Logic, it would be a perfect fit. He was a bat-shit sundae topped with smegma sprinkles. Louis Logic was the Grand Master of Supreme Wackness. Afterward, AJ of the Peanut posed for grinning, arms-over-shoulders pictures with Mr. Logic. I feel really bad about bursting AJ’s bubble, but Louis Logic needs to be smotherfucked by Rosie O’Donnell with a yeast infection. The end.