Password Purgatory

Many in recent years have suggested that American workers aren’t as productive as our international counterparts.  Some say we spend too much time goofing off, playing on Facebook, or just zoning out at work.  I suggest that the single biggest reason our productivity has sagged since the turn of the century is that we are constantly forced to prove to our computer programs that we are who we say we are.

Yes, the latest in a never-ending parade of foreshadowing the apocalypse is the ubiquitous password.

If I were to do the math, I estimate that I’ve spent an average of three to five hours a week over the past decade dealing with passwords – changing them, remembering them, trying to come up with ones that meet the outlandish criteria, remembering where I wrote them down, and entering them – often multiple times a day.

Passwords are supposed to make our data more secure from hackers.  But I’ve heard that data breaches are more often than not caused by an employee clicking on an e-mail or hyperlink containing malware, and having every employee from coast to coast change their password every nine and a half minutes isn’t going to stop that.

The fact is, this fanatical obsession with – and subservience to passwords has only created the illusion of security, but then creating and propagating illusions seems to be the norm these days.  Like many other rituals in which we mindlessly partake, this Saint Vitus’ dance to the gods of encryption technology is here to stay.  And, will probably become increasingly senseless.

As one who remembers when “single sign-on” meant just that, I cannot contain my utter disgust when forced to create a nonsensical string of characters which must contain an upper and lower case letter, symbol, number, and buffalo ranch chicken dip recipe; cannot have been used by myself or any other person ever; and apparently cannot be Just@Shoot#Me*Now!

Trust me, I’ve tried it.

10 Things You Don’t Want to Hear in Bed

As longtime readers are aware, I will occasionally delve into the thorny topic of relationships.  Hot, sweaty, writhing, pulsating, gasping for air relationships.  The time has therefore come – and very possibly passed – to tackle one of the more vexatious issues: things you never want to pass your partner’s lips during intimacy.  In that spirit, here are the 10 things you never want to hear in bed:

10. “I thought you had the handcuffs key.”

9. “It is in.”
8. “Yes, that’s it.  Yeah, right there- wait, who defeated Napoleon at Waterloo: the British, Prussians, Turks or Spanish?”
7. “That reminds me, it’s two for one night at Samurai Sushi.”
6. “Found the remote!”
5. “Don’t worry, it happens to all men sometimes.  At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
4. The Jeopardy theme song.
3. “I bought zucchinis at the market today, in case you want to know how that feels.”
2. “Are you finished?”

And the number one thing you never want to hear in bed:

 
1. “If you stop now, I promise I won’t call the police.”

Man Pretty Sure it’s the Timing Belt

Elkhart IN – Upon hearing his co-worker’s car refused to start that morning, building supply sales associate Ronald Eggleston offered that the problem was most likely the timing belt, a device which synchronizes the rotation of certain parts of an internal combustion engine.   Even after being advised the automobile in question’s engine wouldn’t turn over – symptoms more associated with a dead battery – Eggleston repeated his assertion that the timing belt was the likely culprit.  “I’d at least check it”, he stated stoically. 

“He always says it’s the timing belt” co-worker Matt Henderson chuckled.  “Like when I blew the gasket on my Trans Am sky high a few summers ago.  There was oil shooting out of the carb, and Einstein Eggleston’s like ‘there goes the timing belt’”.

The 38 year old bowler and Civitan club member has reportedly proffered the identical diagnosis on multiple occasions, including the time his neighbor’s F-150 pickup truck’s brake fluid line became clogged.  “You should probably take a look at the timing belt while you’re under the hood”, he stated, nodding knowingly.

 
Sources reported that the well-meaning but clearly fixated man’s obsession with the toothed belt stems from the time the ill-fated device did in fact break on his first car – a Mitsubishi Galant – while out on his first and last date with Kim Reeves, resulting in the pair having to walk nearly three miles to call Eggleston’s older sister to come pick them up, and Reeves refusing to speak to him since.