LUDIC LOG

What up, Ludic Log fans? I'm still on vacation in the lovely city o San Francisco, and assuming that I'm not dead or stuck in one of their many cum-soaked robot toilets, I think it's safe to say that I'm having a good time and I wish you were here. Meanwhile, you're stuck with another guest columnist. Did I say stuck with? I mean graced with! Today's column is a sweet little joint by Mr. Nate Patrin, proprietor of this here blog which is definitely worth y'alls attention. Dig it!

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LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Dear Sir,

In regards to your piece in Vol. CXXIV, No. 10, entitled "I Am Not An Individual To Be Trifled With", you boast of your numerous exploits in the field of organised crime. I have it on good source, however, that you have not even so much as pulled the discharging mechanism on any sort of firearm. I demand an end to this onanistic charade! You are neither a compatriot of mine nor a relative, and I am led to question your assumptions regarding whether or not I am even the sort who would confront you with a firearm of my own (a nine-millimeter handgun, for example, if we are in the realm of the theoretical). I am not a stranger to this sort of business, and I would appreciate it greatly if your efforts to irritate me would end, and your activities revert back to the sale of petty narcotics. In my numerous misadventures in this phase of my storied existence, I have fortuitously stumbled across countless luxuriously appointed women who I wish to acquire for my own; outlined screeds so devastatingly complex that addle-brained listeners are forced to re-examine it from the first word; and made sure to work in a manner as savvy as possible considering my guarded release status from a house of detention. You, however, are spinning an intricate web of lies as pertains to your monetary status, even stooping so low as to skulk about automobile dealerships with no intention of even purchasing a car. I have been following your exploits since my post-secondary days, my friend, and I am at a loss to conceive of what has befallen of you. Rest assured your attempts to trifle in my funds will result in swift, immediate force -- something I have learned when dealing with (to use the vernacular) "gold diggers" of the female persuasion. For your own sake, do stifle your urges to prevaricate further, lest not only you but your compatriots befall a viscera-spattered demise. While it should be stressed that I am not some sort of a hell-beast, hoodlum, professional assassin, onanist or thespian, what I am is a man who is well-equipped to bravely forge my own path in the field of spoken-word rhythmic lyricism, for the same reward as you achieve for your petty criminal efforts. I swear, however, that I shall remain relentless in my efforts to retain my upper-echelon status, and if that means I and my associates must resort to weaponry of a dimension similar to that of a pre-pubescent child, replete with military-grade sighting equipment -- weaponry of which you have no first-hand knowledge -- then so be it.

Sincerely,

50 Pence

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To Whom It May Concern:

I have partaken in intimate relations with your closest cohort, you malodorous woman of ill repute (ed: refer to Vol. CCXIII, No. 15; "You Are My Adonis Of Unending Devotion")! It was, I admit, difficult to resist, given the lift-borne rendezvous in which she lustfully relieved me of my chapeau. Initially I was tempted to strike her, but after being exposed to her verbose manner, I was so smitten that my only reaction was to affect the pose of a man burdened with immense wealth. And so shortly after the day of St. Valentine's! The irony is palpable. The things we did when I returned from the Hawaiian Isles -- ah, but I shall leave that to your imagination. Suffice it to say that her enjoyment of... shall I say... a name-brand chocolate beverage caused me undue bemusement. Do not patronize me by feigning shock, for it was your cuckoldry that elicited me to undertake such ribald unfaithfulness. The incident I shall refer to only as "the Lie as Regards the Hair Permanent" was enough to reveal to me just how your business was being gone about. And after such devoted coupling and times of mutual understanding -- such as the first time I screened The Mission for you, or my indulging you in the finest of cuisine -- for you to betray me in this way is reprehensible and loathsome, especially in light of how many times we shared our love in the most forbidden of ways! The revelation that you were being untrue to me with a scoundrel, a half-hearted pseudo-devotee of Haile Selassie, was enough to send me into a rage so uncontrollable that only a chorus of dieties prevented me from laying a hand on your visage. If you choose to be a common concubine to be tossed about, then it will cause a corner of my world to collapse to acknowledge it. But I will not soon forget the impact my steely manhood had on your eager countenance, atop furnishings hardly meant for such carnal activities, in a manner that -- at the risk of sounding immodest -- rivalled Bacchus himself. In future excursions into the realm of the boudoir, I have no further advice for you except to maintain cleanliness at the gates of your treasure.

Yours,

G. Killah, Esq.

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Sirs,

We are no longer able to withstand any further conspiracy on your part. Yes, your part -- we are positive that this act of malfeasance was orchestrated by you or parties connected to you. This Teapot-Dome-esque scandal, however, will quickly be sorted out, if we have any say in this matter. Your faulty prevarications are a hindrance to our comfort and ability to proceed as normal with our activities vis-a-vis uninhibited boisterousness. As you relax and entertain mildly diverting questions as to how this situation arose, you remain blind to the fact that I am suffering the slings and arrows of unkindness. It must be some sort of ether-fueled Xanadu hallucination, this act of destructive ruination about which you have forced me to shout to the heavens! Your culpability leaves you mute, but hopefully still able to hear me clearly enough to know this: I will vanish like a phantom before you are given the chance to stifle me, much as a disconnected power supply drains one of energy; and I will continue unabated. Your vision will deceive you, and you'd best be advised to refrain from counting your chickens before they've hatched. You've constructed your best-laid plans of sinister intent on a sight that is not truly there, and I must reiterate that this is nothing short of, to make it plain for you, sabotage. Testing us further will only result in a rage befitting of an inebriated, fleet-fisted drummer. Be aware.

In word,

A. Horovitz
A. Yauch
M. Diamond
The Manhattan Jewish Youth Choir

Editor reply: Being ill-informed as we are with your specific situation, we are unsure as to what your malady actually is. Nevertheless, we have forwarded your letter on to our sister publication, Brenston's Periodical of Guitar-Based Tunesmanship, in the hopes that your unfortunate condition will be improved. Cheers!

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Yo muthafuckas,

DAMN! This mag of yours is tight as hell! I'm really feelin' some of this new raw shit, f'real. Keep it coming, dun!

Peace out,

Robert "Kid" Frost