Darling My Password is Secret

I’m going to pass out any minute now.  No, I did not have a drink from a bottle of a man called Johnnie or inhaled some medicinal weed.  I’m going to pass out from passwords.

I understand the need to have a password for the bank.  I don’t want loved ones and enemies to know the contents of my accounts, because I don’t have any money contents in there. 

No honey, my password is a secret, like the Vatican.

What I don’t understand is the need to have a password for anything I want to do online.  Why do crocodiles pretend they are logs in the river, and then yawn and eat me up when I step on the fake logs?  Someone has the answer so I Google it, but I must sign up to get it from a source.

Another password to remember?  I don’t think so.  I can’t use 1-2-3-4 or ABCD.  Such mundane passwords are not allowed.  People with a low I.Q. like yours truly are not encouraged to apply.

I forget complicated passwords.  Use five digits, four uppercase, a number sign and asterisk.  Please jog my memory.  What is an asterisk?  O.K. O.K. the more complicated the password, the less likely that hackers will crack it open. I hope they are not listening.

But the truth of the matter is, these people do it for selfish reasons.  It’s a numbers game. Employment agencies want to boast that they are the ‘biggest and best’.  Government officials and business managers want a bonus at the end of the year. 

I refuse to open another account which will require another pass word.  I can pass out from hunger or thirst, but not another password.  Pass the ketchup please.

By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.