Letter from the Future

December 11, 2029
Dear Jeff,

How are you? I’m fine. Today I was getting a haircut on a bed of gold when I received a call from my publisher. He was calling to inform me of the fact that my fifth book was entering its eighth printing. Needless to say, things have been tedious around here. I find myself flying from country to country getting into a string of life changing adventures and sleeping with a seemingly endless stream of supermodels. Never in all my life was I as bored as when I stood up from my haircut this afternoon.

It was that same tedium, however, that made me think of you and the English class I took twenty years ago. Without the benefit of an instructor who was willing to throw away his own dreams, I would have never bothered to start writing at all. My whole life up until that point had been cracking jokes whose punch lines were lost in the noise of the mainstream propaganda megaphone that is television. As tedious as class could be from time to time, I found it to be the first place to try and showcase my creative ability. I switched to an English major and started keeping a journal with ideas to use on projects for future Baker-esque professors. Unfortunately for me, there were none at any schools I have ever attended since.

I severed all emotional and spiritual connections with humanity and began to write as a true observer, never failing to remember that every word I write carries intent, and with that intent: an argument. I would argue that without a teacher who was willing to force students to be creative, we would live in a world of gray. So here’s to you, moderately popular English professor. Relish in the fact that someone has, if only for a moment, appreciated what you’ve done with your life. Take some solace in knowing that while you remain at Arizona State University being denied tenure year after year; I have become successful.


So long, and thanks for all the fish,
Laurent Gilbert Taillefer II