THE CHOSEN ONE?

En route to my apartment, I was exchanging texts with my friend Tara about my new mix, Destroy The Night. Arriving at my building, I threw my phone in my coat pocket, got out of the car, and walked down the sidewalk where I passed a presumably homeless, crazy man who blurted out, “Even Billy Graham knows!” On the elevator ride up to my place I chatted with a local newscaster (who obviously lives in my building) about how ridiculous the weather is (where’s the snow?). Afterward, I unlocked my door, stepped inside, pulled out my phone expecting a text back from Tara only to find the word “Graham” in the text field. Underlined in blue dots. Unsent.

“Holy shit,” I thought. “How strange? How is that even possible? Did my fingers unconsciously write the word ‘Graham’ as the prophet passed? Am I the Chosen One?” Feverishly, I texted Tara about what had happened. We contemplated the meaning: How did it come to be? We speculated: Do I have an ancestor named ‘Graham’? Several texts and minutes later I looked down at my iPhone 4S and it dawned on me:

Siri.

I have yet to use Siri for anything*. To be completely honest, I’m afraid of Siri. One of the only things I’ve said to Siri since I’ve had this new phone is, “Open the pod bay doors, Siri,” to which she responded, “Ever so sorry… I’m not allowed to do that.” But, as any of you iPhone 4S owners might know, she is ridiculously easy to stimulate. Too easy. Too easy to mistakenly access, I’d say. I quickly realized, no, I was not the Chosen One. Billy Graham was not infiltrating my agnostic word; I was a victim of triggering Siri’s voice-text system, probably activating her as I threw my phone into my pocket while exiting a vehicle and extracting the sole word ‘graham’ from the crazy passerby.

Tara, who believes in paranormal activity and other random shit, and I had a good laugh about it. She thought it was a little sad that I had solved the Billy Graham mystery but, in our opinion, some great things came of it. Number one: After our exchange and a few mistypes we decided to inside-jokingly call my next mix: “Billy Graham (Tara McMullsey Food Mix)”. Number two: She gets to dictate what’s on it. Number three: Nine Inch Nails will be on it.

Sorry, Billy G.; I’m not the Messiah, but I’m going to do my best to make my friends some great mixes. In the coming year, I’ll even be making some original tracks and, best believe, a Taylor Swift remix. We have the tools, and we have the talent. It’s Miller time.

* I once used Siri to find a bar in Lafayette, Louisiana while standing in the parking lot of a Walmart.

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