Dear The Future,
I love you!
You don’t realize how awful it is, living here in the 1990s, and liking things like Japanese cartoons and indie rock bands and Sherlock Holmes and nobody in Britain is making a brilliant series starring my perfect man about him! I mean, every store I go to has (at most) three anime titles and they’re on a shelf marked “Japanamation” because someone once thought that would be a clever portmanteau, little realizing how absolutely wrong they were.
And don’t get me started, The Future, on how hard it is to find decent music in the 1990s. It’s like if I don’t like (insert popular song from the 1990s), then I have to go to the local record store, special order The Wrens newest album and then wait 15 years for them to record another!
It’s hard living in the 1990s, The Future! And that’s why I love you.
Because you’re coming in to save me, with your iTunes and your Amazon and your eBay and your YouTube. Everything I could possibly want or care about is right at my fingertips! Also, that thing I said earlier about Sherlock Holmes!
You have everything, The Future, except for hoverboards and flying cars, and I want you to know that’s OK. It’s not true love without a bit of disappointment here and there. And it’s not like I want you to change, but if you want to change (and get me some hoverboards and flying cars), then that would be OK too.
Thanks for everything, The Future. I mean it.