Via U.S. Mail
Mr. Andy Rooney
524 West 57th St.
New York, NY 10019
You can't stop me, so quit trying. In fact, I'm here. I'm coming. Coming faster every day. Every day slips a little more into me. I'm the future. So watch your back.
Watch your back, asshole.
You can complain about cell phones, cars, advertising, modern art, and fun. But guess what? It's futile. Useless. Sisyphean.
So just shut up. That's what the future is saying to you. Shut up. At least Paul Harvey tells stories. At least Harvey stands in awe, in wonder, of the world around him. "And that little boy who grew up in a mountain shack with thirty brothers and sisters went on to become...Andy Rooney!" You're never going to hear that. Why? Because you're a shit. You're just a shit.
You don't think I have the authority to say that? Well, I'm the future. I have perspective on my side. Time, too. Nobody likes a grouch. So just shut up. Stop talking about me. Stop making me out to be the bad guy. The world was never perfect, never will be. I'm doing the best I can. You think you're so perfect?
Trim your fucking eyebrows already.