The Providers – Letter 2


If you’ve got 2 peacocks, bring ‘em out round the yard and teach ‘em how to dance!

Do you even know what that means? Probably not because you’re too busy BEING LAME.

Man, we are from THE FUTURE. We are here to totally HARASS YOU via the Postal Service!

That’s right. It’s super-antiquated in our era. People only really use it to splice through time itself and send people junk mail and bullshit pranks. Where do you think all those stupid letters come from that promise you credit cards, discounted insurance, and larger penises? The effin’ future, that’s where.

Do we have a bigger purpose, you ask your STUPID self?!?!?! I will answer you with a whispered “perhaps.”

Dude, it’s like this: I just dropped some mad flim on some honey chilies.

You stupid past assholes don’t even understand how AWESOME that is. That means I just bought myself some great socks. In the future, we call socks “chilies.” Why? Because we are so much better than you and can do whatever we want!


So, you got a letter from Dom. That is not my name. My name is Greg. Both of us want you to shut the hell up, break up with anyone you’re currently going out with, and focus all of your time on us.

Oh, and bran. Buy a whole truck-fuckin’ lot of bran. Eat that shit. Love that shit. And write letters to your government about the importance of bran and bran research & development.

I will leave you with some lovely words from the greatest non-presidential vocalist of your generation: Mr. John Travolta

Look at the rain and look at the stars tonight
All fallin´ down on me
See them tumble through my door
I look at your face
The light is in your eyes
And there´s something there I need
I long to hold a little more


– Greg

The Providers – Letter 4


Now that we got the awkward part out of the way (gosh, that was weird…but NECESSARY), we can get down to business!

Here’s a list of items that we need:

– 3 popcorn flavored lollipops
– 17 cases of Fuji apples, flash-frozen to preserve the 100 year journey to our time
– A 2010 Chone Figgins baseball card

Here’s a list of the preliminary tasks we need you to do:

– Read up on canaries and bran
– Get yourself into shape, specifically your upper body and your “digging muscles”
– Buy a puppy and take loving care of it throughout its life

The last one isn’t for us, but it’s just a good idea. Puppies are wonderful. Better than dolphins (fuck dolphins, man).

You’re probably very confused, and that’s ok. We’ll explain more to you when we’re able to.

For now, all you need to know is this: the first three letters were weird, yes; uncomfortable, yes; but necessary? Very much yes. We need to reverse a POWERFUL event that has taken place, and you need to do it for us.

So, this is the first time we are being nice and “normal” to you. But, again, our first three letters HAD to be sent. If you sift through our insults and odd requests, you’ll find some valuable information in them.

For now, you get to those lists I just left you! If you’re good, we’ll explain some stuff next letter.

– Greg

The Providers – Letter 6


Ok, so after extensive research, we have concluded that given your 2010 abundance of canaries, it would be best for us to acquire them through you.

Since we were laid off, we don’t currently have any money to buy canaries to run our cars on. So, we want you to create an area in the “Time Hiding Zone” that we will now call the “Suspended Animation Chamber.” I think the only method of Suspended Animation you’ve got is cryonics, so…freeze them really good or something.

Thanks in advance, man. This will help while we try to fight the powers that be to get our jobs back at the Bran Factory. See, there are no unemployment benefits in our time, only “reverse benefits.” This is a clever name for PUNISHMENT dished out if you don’t get a job fast enough. Dom and I are on level 3 right now. This means that each morning the government plays the audio track from every episode of the television show Joey into the cellular phone implants in our ears. We are not sure how much longer we can last. We are desperate men.

This is why it is so crucially important that if you don’t have a Fringclaxitor in your time, you “invent” one by buying all the Bran and Bran Products you can from every nearby local store, and storing them along with Farmers’ Almanacs in the “Time Hiding Zone.” This will allow Dom and I to have access to “True Bran.” This is the name given to Bran from before The Great Branning of 2087.

Once acquired, we hope to drive the True Bran up to Bran headquarters (once we get those canaries running our cars) and show that we will now be able to farm True Bran again thanks to our genius ways. Then we can be hired back to our old jobs and request that our old buddy Pablo come with us. Get the whole Bran Innovation Team back together!

It’s like I’ve been saying: if you’ve got 2 peacocks, bring ’em round the yard and teach ’em how to dance. The Bran Overloards are the peacocks, and we will teach them to dance the dance of re-employment!

Long story short: freeze some canaries and put them under the deli. Thx.

– Greg

The Providers – Letter 8


Well, it nearly killed us, but we got the canaries from Pablo. Holy codfish, he did not want to give those up! But luckily, after an intense struggle, we were able to knock him out with a rag soaked in ether. He did mention murdering us in the future, which was a bit unsettling — especially because neither Dom or I had lunch yet. Getting news of our imminent death on an empty stomach just made the afternoon all the worse. If they’re out of Calamari Fritters at the pub, I may LOSE IT!

I’m just glad you’re helping us out from the past by doing all those small tasks that end up having such a profound impact on our future. If you never read Dom’s last letter and took care of what he asked you, I’d never have attempted the canary-theft. It’d be a suicide mission. But since you obviously did, now we can reap the benefits!

By now, you probably have the last few Farmer’s Almanacs necessary to set up your Fringclaxitor. If you haven’t yet, PLEASE DO! It’s crucial you have it set up in case anything goes wrong. I mean, it’s extremely doubtful something will, but better safe than sorry. Dom said the chances of him having to write asking you to activate the Fringclaxitor are around the same as you winning a few lotteries. Psssh.

Oh, that reminds me, I decided to give you a bit of a gift for helping us out. I looked up the info, and below are the winning lottery numbers in your area for tomorrow’s drawing. May as well get something out of the deal!

Ultra Millions
6, 24, 28, 38, 51
UltraBall: 38

12, 22, 41, 44, 57
StrongBall: 24

Rad Million
4, 8, 14, 22, 28, 36

Our next, and final task for you involves all those cans of tuna-fish, bricks of cheddar cheese, and fresh-baked rolls you stole: please make around 200 Tuna Melts and bring them to the nearest homeless shelter and feed everyone you see. This seemingly POINTLESS task will end up benefiting us, don’t worry. I’m not just asking you to help others in need for no good reason.

By feeding those particular homeless individuals, you will set forth a wave of goodwill that will cause Dom and I to be able to get our jobs at the Bran Factory back! They called us mad for our inventions, and said we’d never work in the Bran Industry again. But after you give tuna melts to some hobos, they’ll reconsider and allow us back in. Perfect and logical.

Then we can unleash the Stealthometer onto a public in dire need of its services! I mean, its how we know what past events have made crucial impacts on the future. It’s what’s enabling us to re-direct our misfortunes and stealthily get them back in the fast lane. Why they’d call us crazy I’ll never know.

Anyway, I’ll let you go make some tuna melts. Talk to you soon, past buddy!

– Greg

The Providers – Letter 10


It’s like I always said: if you’ve got 2 peacocks, bring ’em out round the yard and teach ’em how to dance.

ha HA!

Anyway, man, that was crazy. To think that all I needed to provide Dominick was 3 copies of the Farmer’s Almanac from 1985 in order to solve everything. I mean, wow. It’s just uncanny.

But that’s so Dom, man. THAT’S. SO. DOM. He’s just a wiz with all this technical stuff. I never could’ve gotten it right. I’m more of the ideas man, you know?

And the timing couldn’t be any more perfect because Pablo’s coming tonight to get back the extra canaries we stole from his pet shop. But now that all’s well, it’ll be no problem. Remember how he told us “I’m going to MURDER YOU BOTH”? Oh, Pablo. He’s such a character.

Oh wait, you probably don’t remember. That’s the thing: we just discovered today that the Time Machine Mailbox Dom and I invented had the settings all screwed up. You see, we had been mailing you the letters to be delivered in spaced-out increments going forward in time but starting 100 years before we wrote the first letter. Turns out the setting was in reverse. OOPS.

No big deal. It just means that now you’ll be receiving the letters backwards instead of forwards. So. Umm…I guess that actually means when you read this you won’t know anything about what happened yet.

Wait a minute…oh man…this could be bad. OH MAN! That means right now you have no idea who we are or why we’re even writing to you!

Listen, just trust me here: go buy yourself a whole bunch of canaries, ok? It’ll all make sense in the end. I can’t remember what Dom wrote you last time, but hopefully when you get it later this week it’ll help clear things up a bit.

Also, was the Fringclaxitor invented yet in 2010? If not, start eating a whole bunch of bran and hope for the best.

Your pal from the future,

– Greg

Common Nonsense – Letter 6

Dear Alan the so-called Genius,

After a lifetime of avoiding the evil and radiation of electronics, your brother finally convinced me to buy one of those personal computers that are gaining popularity. His stories of naked ladies and this magical item known as “porn” (or is it pr0n, I’ve seen it both ways and just don’t know which way is correct.) really sold me, especially after your mother left claiming she could no longer live with getting her news from the televisions in the front window of the corner electronics store that we’re all still shocked exists.

Subsequent to finding the Google machine I learned of this strange new concept called “ego-surfing” and decided to try it. Using my original name: Alan Henguver produced only pictures of a very strange bearded man, sometimes with a baby, so I decided to use my old local newspaper advice-columnist name: Alan the Genius.

I think you know what happened next. Around page fifty-seven there was your site and though at first I thought it a coincidence after seeing your warped version of our hot-tub coming of age story I knew you had stolen not only my name, but my old livelihood.

First of all that contraption we built was not a mini-sauna it was a new bathtub. It was very difficult to build as the company sent over a videotape with detailed instructions on how to build it but alas no device on which to play it. I don’t really recall why we built it in the basement, I think it had something to do with the fact that your mother liked cold baths and hot air rises; I guess I just assumed the same with anything hot.

You know we were never a very affluent family, sure the lack of electronics certainly eased the financial blow to our daily lives but still the whole “taking-baths-together-while-standing-in-a-tiny-bathtub” tradition was a weekly routine. Did you block that out of your head? Our discussions of “meat, sports, and babes” were also part of this routine, I guess when you’re standing back to back naked with your father in a sauna/bath you’ll discuss anything to distract yourself. Is that why you were never joined any sports teems, and became vegetarian?

Finally the “sweat of Odin” tradition you explained offends me. You know that our Norse lineage is very secretive and well protected and that the sweat of Odin may not be shared with any outsiders. You may have very well ended the secret traditions the sons of Odin. Thanks son.

I want you to know that while I appreciate the effort you and your brother have put into this spiderwebsite you must be more careful of the secrets you give out and also stop using my given advice columnist name.

-Your father: Alan the (ORIGINAL) Genius

Common Nonsense – Letter 5

Alan the Genius,

You are so right. I don’t know how the simply amazing idea of having a song blast into your ears the second a website loads slipped right past me. You know what they say: sometimes you can obtain a college degree in the subject and work for years as a web designer, and then your brother comes in and blasts you away with his outside the box thinking.

As per your request, I have added a midi file (it’s the high-tech way computers play music) of Any Way You Want It by Journey.

As for how the traffic has been, head to the site and take a look at our webcounter. There are SO MANY HITS that it does not even slow down to give me a proper number!

Check it out for yourself:

With a site in such high demand, it is obviously a money-volcano waiting to erupt. I suggest sending discount coupons to various companies to entice them to advertise with you. Sketch up a couple coupon ideas (wording, pictures — however in-depth you’d like to get) and then we can start dispersing them to Fortune500 businesses looking to get even richer.

Your latest bit of advice brought back terrible memories. I never got how you could stand Dad. I despised our odd upbringing. Living without electricity and modern technologies was ridiculous. Sure, maybe if we lived in a cabin in the woods…but we were in NEW YORK CITY. We were the only family on the block — or in the entire borough I bet — who didn’t have a TV, or a phone…or even a working light switch.

I guess that’s why I decided to learn everything about computers. I became technology obsessed.

Also, things with Susan have been going great. Sometimes I’ll admit that I would like a regular conversation rather than wild sex dressed as a caveman; but I’m a tad bit worried if I try that out it may end our relationship as a whole!

I’m reluctant to ask you for advice given that it was following your brilliant advice that drove Carolyn away. But…do you have any pointers?

And please, I don’t want to hear anything about dressing up as a giant sandwich and slathering mayonnaise all over myself. It didn’t work last time and it certainly won’t work this time!

– Rich