Dear FutureMe,
You are a schmuck. While you could have spent productive time working to make the world a better place, your past self has been engaged in futile exercises such as writing emails to himself in the future. I wouldn't be surpirsed if you're reading this as you're mired on the couch with a pint of Haagen Daazs and watching the latest reality show while desperately trying to play an aesthetically pleasing version of "pastures of plenty" on a zither.
I hope the world's a better place, but I imagine you're living under the shadow of Emperor Clinton while desperately hoping that your four daughters, the oldest two of which are firmly entrenched in adolescence, do not look upon her as a role model.
And, by the way, if "You-know-who's" still in town, go over to his house and kick him for me, will ya?
Signed,
Yourself from five years ago
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