Dear Mr. Rance,
Firstly, although this is manually keyed using a duly backdated version of Microsoft Word 2303, my grasp on your antiquated dialect, as pertains to twenty-first century American slang English in written form is limited.
Secondly, it is with great pleasure to address a legendary "big screen" actor of the atomic age (hope my dates are right, terrible history student). I have probably seen as many of your old films as have been reformatted to hologratom; a sort of entertainment viewing device which combines the principals of holographic imaging as well as the manipulation of crude matter used for sense stimulation purposes--probably not yet even shallowly tangible in your times but I digress.
So my true reasons for contact. I am in search of my great, great- great, great, once more many times over, grandfather who, according to the New Los Angeles County database of cyberspace cache (the old Los Angeles was unfortunately precluded when it fell below sea level during the Big One of '79--that would be 2279 from your perspective), was an avid reader and message leaver of your cyber net publication "Rance wuz here".
Not unlike most Americans of your era save for the extremely wealthy, my grandfather lived in poverty; this was the only lead I could "dig up" as they say in your time.
Oh my. I believe I have forgone the most crucial of information regarding this entire letter, most likely rendering all writings above a seemingly inane babble of crazed proportion!
I suppose I would use the name [withheld] --yes, that would be what I would have called myself in 2006-- the old customs of having family names are of no use here and I'm not particularly savvy on how that came to be (my brainwaves were incompatible with the stimulation module for that certain history volume and I had to take an online course like they did in the olden times, in which I got an F). Nowadays --meaning in my own time I'm simply known as email@example.com or Hitmo for short.
I am, for lack any way to say this without inducing some sort of shock, from the future; twenty-six hundred ninety-two to be exact.
Any leads to the current whereabouts of my great x10 grandfather would be much appreciated. Please know that my time here is limited for reasons I cannot disclose, in the very least I can say that time travel is not exactly legal in my time.
I realize that this letter may read as some quack-written diatribe of some long since committed lunatic; however I implore you, feel free to ask any questions you like about the future. I shall do my best to answer them as honestly as I can.
Jack flopping Kennedy! I am surely glad the cyber heads of your century invented the internet acronym. It must have taken months to participate in your chat programs!
Do not despair about posting this to your cyber space; it will not cause a "time/space paradox which could unravel the very threads of the universe," that is just what you people would have called "a moldy wives tail."