What to say to your sanctimonious time-travelling future self when he tries to stop you from doing something cool


Time pieces pic by  Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash. Pic of man by George Hodan on https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/

It happens to all of us, eventually. If you’ve avoided it so far, then congratulations. But your luck won’t last. Eventually you’ll be visited by your smarmy, time-travelling self from the future, and he will just NOT. SHUT. UP about something he thinks you should or shouldn’t do.

“Don’t marry that girl that once tried to steal your kidney,” he’ll say, no matter how much she promised it was just a phase and she’ll probably never do it again.

“Don’t start that rocket company to try and compete with Elon Musk because you have no idea how to run a business or how to build a rocket,” he’ll go on, trying to quash your dreams. He may even point to some scars and missing eyebrows, whatever that has to do with anything.

“Quit using fossil fuels, or you’ll turn the planet into an unlivable hellscape.” That’s the most crazy one he’ll toss out there. 

He’ll just go on and on, acting like he knows more about you just because he is you and has lived your life for a decade or more than you have. If you’re fortunate enough to have avoided it so far, then you’re in luck. Here are some tips on what to say when Mister (or Miss!)  Know-It-All tries to tell you how to live your/their life.

First, the best defense is a good offense. When you hear that weird sizzling ZING! sound and you notice the blue, glowing ball expand in your living room as the time warp gets ready to pitch the “Karen From the Future” into your life, get ready. What he’ll want to do, expecting you to be completely stunned at his melodramatic arrival, is start in with something like “Dave! I’m you, from the FUTURE! You have to listen to me!”

Don’t let him get there, or you’ll regret it as he yammers on about how your super-high cholesterol somehow leads to nuclear Armageddon. No, you go at him.


Future you: “Da…”

You: “DAVE! It’s ME, from the NOW. I’m not interested in your crap. Jump back in that wormhole and zip it, capiche?” Or better yet: “Oh look! It’s the Ghost of Kiss my Ass! Listen, if you’re not here to tell me the winning lottery ticket numbers, do an about face and dive back on that chesterfield time rift sofa, number 42.”

You might be tempted to just do a Spartan 300-style kick him backwards into the time portal and send the Lameinator back to the future. But I don’t recommend violence. There’s some weird quantum-time-continuity thing that guarantees you’ll see some kind of karmic equivalence to whatever you dish out.

Now, keep in mind your future self isn’t going to listen any more than you are. He is stupid that way.  He’s  going to try and regroup since he’s on a mission to meddle in your life and suck what little pleasure you’re managing to eek out of this drab, dreary world. But it should put him on notice that you’re not buying what he’s selling.

“Listen,” he’ll say. “I have a very important message for you that could save countless yada yada yada.” Man. He’s like a broken record. After he thinks he’s got your attention, tell him that you can’t wait to totally change your life because an older, fatter version of yourself is telling you to. Then say you’re going into the bedroom to get a pencil and paper to write whatever he’s going to tell you down. Once there, turn on the TV and turn up the volume so he knows you’re dissing him. It’s all about asserting dominance.

At this stage, the future you is going to be pissed-off. That’s good. You know how poorly you think when you’re mad. Now he’s you but older, and it’s going to be worse, So when he comes storming into your bedroom, go for the throat.

“Alright you. I don’t care. You and your 12 monkeys had your fun and now you’re here to ruin it for me.  One more word from you and I’m going to pay for a full ride at the most filthy, smelly, labor camp-like nursing home I can find. Enjoy living out your remaining days at Sunny Meadows Pyongyang.”

Eventually, he’ll just start yelling. When the haranguing begins - and it will -  your best bet is just to give him  your best Nicholas Cage face. You know the one I mean. The one that just screams that you don’t give one ounce of crap about what is being said right now.


By this point, Senior Sanctimonious should be getting the message. You’re thick, but even you can take a hint. He’ll probably shake his head sadly, and turn back to that weird glowing orb. Just as he moves to step in, he’ll turn and maybe say something like, “I guess that’s it. Your selfishness has doomed us all.” And then he’ll vanish. ZING!



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