Skip to main content

All manner of good news

It really was a good week overall (for purposes of journal-keeping, my week starts on Saturday).

Got 3 postcards from Wally today. Apparently all but one of mine got through to him. I figured out that the people in the mailroom must be "trusties." Some are sticklers for rules (or maybe they just get bored and like to play head games with inmates' families) and others will be happy to let it slide. Whatever the reason, he and I are back on track with communications.

There may be a way to send him $ without paying exorbitant fees. He's been getting postcards from many other people as well, so he doesn't feel too isolated.

My paycheck will be bigger next year. In addition to Wally not being on my health insurance as long as he's being taken care of  by the fine taxpayers in the state where he's incarcerated, I came up with good numbers on that silly, intrusive screening they make us take. Carl smokes, so I got a demerit for that, but BMI, blood pressure and cholesterol were all within "acceptable limits" so I get a slight "deduction reduction." This would seem to be a good time to increase my 401K contribution by one or two percentage points.

The news for my friend Matt isn't great, but it's better. He's just a year older than me, but has chronic, life-threatening conditions that have landed him once again in the hospital, beginning with a stay in ICU. He's brilliant, analytical and compassionate -- what an irony that such a superior mind has to be housed in such an inferior and unreliable body.

The holidays are coming and for the first time in, oh I dunno, five years? Ten? I don't feel like hiding under the bed until January arrives.

Finally:  A website called http://howsecureismypassword.net/ has given me reassurance that my intermittent bouts of creative password-construction are on the right track:


For my password based on a Barry Manilow song,
It would take a desktop PC
About 412 years
to hack my password

For the one based on a country song I like from the 1970s,
It would take a desktop PC
About 6 thousand years 
The one I currently use at work, based on an old commercial jingle,
It would take a desktop PC
About 231 years
to hack

The one I use for my bank:
It would take a desktop PC
About 6 thousand years
to hack 

The one I use for PayPal
It would take a desktop PC
About 231 years
to hack 



and finally:
My Facebook password...
It would take a desktop PC
About 5 nonillion years
to hack your password


So you see where my priorities are! Actually, Facebook kept nagging me to make mine more secure so I went for the gold...

Comments

Good job keeping your facebook updates secure! My suspicious mind of course immediately wondered what that site was doing with the password information they were collecting.
Vol-E said…
Yes, I wondered that, too. However, many of the passwords I tested were those I use only at work, and they don't have my work IP or email, so no (real) worries here!

Popular posts from this blog

Memoir - The Year of Kent State

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
I wanted to write a fictional memoir and it got away from me. 

Original
I was born in the Year of Kent State. I didn't know. I was watching a cable channel specializing in historical programs, in this case, newsworthy events from the 1970s. The Ohio National Guard shot 13 unarmed students protesting the Vietnam War on the Kent State University campus. Four students died. By the time I was aware of a bigger world than my own, Kent State passed into history.

Im gonna git u Sukkah

by The Urban Blabbermouth [who may or may not be shown in the photo above... - v-E] ~ True story. I am walking to my car and I notice a couple of Jewish fellows, twenty somethings, with the bouquets of what looks like bamboo or palm. I know they are Jewish for they look Hasidic. They are wearing long black jackets, wide brim black fedora hats, and have curly sideburns. In truth, I classify all Jewish who dress like this as Hasidic although they may identify themselves differently. They are standing near the corner canvassing passersby.

Climbing to New Heights

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
It started when I was ten.  I was riding shotgun with my father when a small plane crossed the highway in front of us.  The plane floated gently to its landing, like it had all the time in the world.  It was beautiful.  I knew then I wanted to be a pilot.  

I dreamed of soaring with the clouds and flying through them.  I could go anywhere the crow flies.  No stuck in traffic following a road as laid out by some anonymous engineer.  I could fly with the birds, although, I never thought myself a bird.  I loved the freedom.

But, I fear heights.  

It's not just any heights, it's low heights, the kind you get with stairs, balconies, bridges, and landing airplanes.  When I fly on airlines as a passenger, I look out the window at thirty thousand feet, no fear.  Somewhere between six feet, my height, and thirty thousand feet, airplane's height, lives my fear, a mysterious feeling that emerges from my stomach and rises up into my chest.  I can't…