Noise > Signal

[I will likely post on this incident several times in the near future.  So, my apologies.  There may end up being a post about the Minneapolis PD catching the villain.  More on that later.]

When people get their shit stolen, a common refrain is, “it not the X, it’s the Y,” where X=things of monetary value and Y=things of social, sentimental, emotional value.  I may speak more on the both the monetary and non-monetary losses later, but for now I want to lament the loss of something seemingly sort of silly, but that kind of meant a lot to me.  My old text messages.

Mostly, I liked my old phone, but it was obnoxious that it would only save 50 received text messages.  I hated that, and had to delete messages all the time to make room for new ones.  But that meant that that phone contained about 40 of my favorite text messages from friends, family and girlfriends from the last 3 1/2 years.  I actually would, on occasion, go through old text messages and reminisce.  So, for my and your benefit, some of those that I can recall are below.  Some of these may be a little personal, but that should not be evident, as there is no useful context.

Jesus is the reason.

Drizzidy Drunk.

Part Uno: [text redacted]

Part Dos: [again, redacted]

Oh, I’m sure that’s WAY more important.  I’ll let the queen know.

Just take the turnpike, it’s the fastest route

STOP BOWLING.

Well, come run into me.

When you want to rendezvous?

Stop it, you’re supposed to be HELPING.

With any luck, more will follow as I remember them.  Also, these are probably a lot less entertaining without context.  Sorry.

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