Pass Me Off

You would think that those most attuned to the profound arcana of the interwebs might just be a little sophisticated with their password policies. Well, I would anyway, and it gives me a little rush of pleasure every time I log on to a website in the know. Imagine if you will a cabal of website admins huddled over a boiling pot, the wind blowing across the moor as their screechy high voices cackle new and clever ways of forcing users to Damn Well Use Unique and Secure Passwords. Oh, the sheer malevolence of their ways. There’s got to be a touch of dark but delightful art in there somewhere. Surely.

But, alas, their voices are never heard in some surrounds. Tonight – a little blustery, a little cold, just the right atmosphere I thought – I registered with a website that would only accept alphanumeric characters, dashes and underscores in my password. So, let’s consider the psychology of this. It just has to encourage people to use common nouns separated by dashes, or their own names, perhaps all three or four, wedged open with underscores. Bet the password guru didn’t think about that.

And on the subject of the unthunk (which is, I suspect, a common habit in this case), my bank’s password policy not only restricts me to alphanumeric characters (none of those shifty dashes, no siree) but it also only allows 8 of them. Way to go, Bank of Insecurity.

What’s a guy gotta do to get a bit of respect from the minions of Moloch? This is really starting to pass me off . . . 

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