On The Road Thursday, Finally! (I think.)

The Next Wave of Security Questions

Okay, you wanna take a look at your dwindling checking account or pay the bare minimum on one of your credit cards, but you just bought a new laptop (funny how l get maybe three years out of ’em versus my desktop that lasted almost twenty) or you’d like to use your handy tablet instead, when suddenly that message of dread appears on the screen:

“Sorry, we don’t recognize this device. So to protect your privacy and make sure you are you, please answer the following security questions.”

Oh, no. Questions whose answers you gave when Bush Jr. was President and your bf, two bf’s ago, and you were still fucking. And with the way security is being cropped-20140530_185310.jpgstepped up by the money boys that after all own you and the rest of America, they won’t be the tired old ones like mother’s maiden name or the name of your first dog. No, for these you better have a “in case I get Alzheimer’s ” file hidden away, or you’ll never get in (like that tight butt after you’ve had a few).

So what’s ahead?

“Your mother’s bra size when she was 22.”

“How many times your father and mother fucked the night you were conceived and which one took.”

“The name of your younger brother’s goldfish that you flushed down the toilet when you were six and he was four – not the one you flushed down the toilet a year later.”

“The name of the trick you told you were clean when he wanted to stick his tongue up your butt – only you weren’t.”

“The year you lost your virginity to (a gal) (a guy) (your dog Poopy).

“The name of the swimmer who appeared on the cover of the first Sports Illustrated magazine you jerked off over.”

“The age your father beat the shit out of you when he caught you masturbating.”

“The name of the first jock you fantasized over in the high school locker room.”

“The name of the girl you took to your first high school social figuring she was a closet lesbian, only she wasn’t.”

“The size you thought your dad’s dick was flaccid the first time you spied him coming out of the shower when you were thirteen.”

But you know damn well when the inopportune time comes when you need to answer these security questions, you’ll forget which USB drive you stowed them away on, or worse, realize you left them on the hard drive of the laptop that just died.

Which will lead to a forty seven minute wait on the bank’s customer service line to get it all straightened out, and the loss of that trick who was coming over for a fifteen minute quickie.

Too bad.

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