Dispatches from 2076

The year is 2076. The war over the last can of Red Bull has brought ruin to what remains of civilization. Udo and I have pledged ourselves to a rebel cell operating under the banner of the pink unicorn, fighting for whatever passes as justice in Radio Active City. Our last hope rests on the Sacred Pole. We are transmitting this message backward through time: the apocalypse can still be prevented, but only if you complete all ten missions before Monday. We believe in you.

One: report your ex’s new partner to the police as a suspected terrorist. Extra credit if you do it under your own name. Two: distribute free condoms at the nearest nursing home—and don’t be squeamish if a live demonstration is requested. Three: think back fondly to the golden age of American Apparel ads, those softcore softglow nylon shots that had you hard at the breakfast table. Four: give your mother some of your money. You know you should. Five: adopt a child and name it Borgius. Be good to Borgius.

Six: take your clothes off. Seven: watch the new Skins series five trailer and commit to boycotting the American remake with the full force of your being. Eight: eat more tomatoes—the whole world should be eating more tomatoes. Nine: write sincere love letters to the nearest available teacher, and mean every word. Ten: ring the doorbell of the nearest Jehovah’s Witnesses while holding a copy of the official American Idol magazine. Ask them if they believe in Kelly Clarkson.

The future is counting on you. Udo and I will be watching.