Dear Billy,

How you doing big guy, it’s me, Future Bill. Or should I say it’s "us," Bill. It’s confusing, I know. I am writing you this letter from a spaceship house! No, I’m kidding, the future is terrible. But I am writing you this letter to furnish you with a few nuggets of wisdom and some much needed insight into aspects of life you do not fully comprehend yet.

First, let’s rap about masturbation. Masturbation is a big, fancy, multi-syllable, word for something that’s not too fancy…I mean…unless you’re doing it on a throne or something. I’m going to be honest with you, because I know we appreciate brutal honesty: your style is whack, no pun intended (a pun is like wordplay. P.S. pay more attention in English. We are going to be talking and writing a lot later on down the road and our grasp of even the most elementary of writing mechanics is atrocious. Take this letter for example).

I guess I should say to stop drinking now but I’m not going to. You’re going to have a really tough few years.But listen, there needs to be a more structured approach to masturbation. For instance, if you knew you were about to spill a glass of milk, you would probably be prepared with napkins to clean up your preemptive mess. The same applies for masturbating. You are going to get caught up in the moment and find yourself post-game with a big mess and nothing to clean it up. Then, you end up hopping to the kitchen with your pants around your ankles and your shirt pulled over your head trying to find paper towels, leaving a DNA trail across the living room behind you (or as we will come to call it, The Trail of Tears). You will go through all of this only to find that there are no paper towels because you know we can’t afford them right now. So do us a solid and have dad’s winter coat handy.

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Also, the DVDs have gotta go. Hop on Grandma’s computer, go to her Firefox web browser, and hit Ctrl+P. This neat little trick will allow you to masturbate with the confidence and self-assurance of knowing that your actions cannot be traced in the web history…and yes, it is how all Ninjas masturbate.

But the most important flaw, the Achilles heel, as it were: you masturbate when your family is home. Stop. Fucking. Touching. Yourself. When. Grandma. Is. Home.

Secondly, that girl you’re dating—how do I say this…yeah, you guys don’t get married. I’ll give you a minute to collect yourself….

I’m sorry, I know how hard you worked on that hemp necklace. Turns out you’re both what we call co-dependent. Two dead batteries don’t start a car, big guy. But not to worry, you will engage in a multitude of other horrific and emotionally destructive relationships with other women for the next decade or so. It’s gonna be like a rollercoaster without the fun!! Wheeeeeeee!!!!

Bill Dixon playing the guitar
Stick with computers. Or not, see if I care.
You know what, let me break it to you now, we are not married. More ghastly news, we are not the new guitarist for Limp Bizkit, either. On the bright side, we are doing something equally as ludicrous with our lives. Also, in 2010 you will be performing more shows annually than Michael Jackson, Kurt Cobain, and Jimmy Hendrix combined! Hey little Billy, that’s called foreshadowing, now go look up the word "continuity" in the dictionary. I’m giving you gold here, boy.

But seriously, I guess I should say to stop drinking now but I’m not going to. That’s something you are going to need to figure out on your own. I’m not gonna lie, you’re going to have a really tough few years.

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You are going to see some horrible stuff happen to you, your family, and your country in the next decade. You and your friends are going to have to grow up much faster than our parents did because the world is about to get really small in a really big way. You’re generation is going to pick up where our grandparents left off. And I don’t mean some Generation X bullshit like Rock the Vote or bringing back Woodstock. I mean real substantive change that you are going to have to facilitate. I just realized, you are probably going to have some trouble getting to sleep tonight.

But try not to worry about it too much; you’ll be just fine. Enjoy yourself and for god sakes, stop listening to Blink 182.

Love always,
Bill

P.S. Don’t spend a dime of your inheritance. Wait until September 12, 2001 and invest everything you have in a company called Halliburton. Trust me, you’ll thank you later.

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