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From Jan. 10, 2000 |
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Frymer Number, Please! |
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By
MURRY FRYMER
of TheColumnists.com
Hey, you kids out there under 40 are not going to remember this. You may not even believe it. But, I swear I went through most of my life up until 1995 or so without once being asked for my password.
You don't believe it. How did I ever sign on? How did I ever reach critical sources? How did I live?
It isn't that I lived without codes entirely. But I think the only one I had to remember was my telephone number, though if I had a problem I could look it up in the phone book. Nobody who is anybody is still in the phone book now. To be in the phone book is to admit that you are declasse. I used to be in the phone book. No more.
Anyway, if you knew your phone number, well, that was about all you had to know. Oh, under rare circumstances you might have to come up with your social security number. Now everybody asks your social security number. I don't date anymore but I bet young ladies ask for the social security number right off. Then your cellphone number. Then your password.
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I get asked for my password especially online. And I have many passwords. I have dozens of passwords. The problem is remembering them and then knowing which password goes with which site. Nothing stops you so short as not knowing your password. It's a complete wipeout. You sit there and stare and then you begin trying all sorts of passwords that you remember using at one time or another. You try "Cute" because you thought it was when you thought it up. You try various four-letter words because on occasion they, too, have been your password.
And then you begin the task of trying to reach some source to help you out. If it's by telephone, that usually is a lost cause. Not only do we not list phone numbers in phone books, but businesses and tech service centers have long ago stopped answering phones. They tell you they value your business and then they ask you to wait on line until you die.
I guess it is only going to get worse. There are so many websites that want you to register. I am registered, I believe, on thousands, And they then assign you a password. You don't remember it. You could write it down but you don't remember where. And the future looks even worse.
You will be asked your password to get through the door at work. You will be asked your password when you make love at home.
Nobody will know you unless you know the word. Nobody will trust you because they don't know you. Without the right word, you will not pass.
Life is coming down to a matter of codes. It is a lot like war, where you have to outsmart the enemy. "Halt, who goes?" is the meaning of it all. If you don't know the password, you are dead.
But, of course, there is something a lot worse than not knowing your password. That is somebody else knowing your password. They will be able to find out and strip your bank account. They will get through the door at your work. They will make love at your home.
The future is grim. You may have to keep your password in a rolled-up piece of paper in your private parts. You will be careful not to speak in your sleep.
Your name is nothing. Everyone knows your name. But your password is what separates you from the beasts. They don't know their passwords and so they must slog in the mud. They are all helpless sheep. They think "bah" is a password but it is not and they are shorn.
Take this column as a warning of dire things ahead. It is lots worse than Y-2K. In the end, your password is all you've got. And if you haven't got your password, pray, pray to God for him to send you one.
Of course, to reach God you have to have a password.
© 2000 by Murry Frymer.
You can comment on this column or contact Murry Frymer with an email to: talkback@thecolumnists.com
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