Chaos Theory causes password entry pandemonium There are things in this tiny microcosm of the universe that I will never comprehend. For example, why do so many humans require the assistance of spectacles? How does the phase of the moon affect emotional behaviour? And what is it about the otherwise harmless, uncontroversial and inoffensive Justin Bieber that makes me want to …
Obey the rules set out by xkcd for passwords (to wit: use as long a phrase as possible, but don't use random characters) and you'll also get round this problem. IF the website \ program will allow it of course...
http://correcthorsebatterystaple.net/ can help with this
IF the website \ program will allow it of course...
...and this is the problem, the overwhelming majority of websites and applications I use, that require a password, are still insistent on it containing capital letters, numbers and non-alphabetical characters, or limit it to 12 characters, or don't allow spaces.
I want my password to be cheese pizza with anchovies but I usually end up with B4c0n4nd3gg!
"Here’s another inexplicable conundrum: why do grown men these days feel the need to unbuckle their belts and lower their trousers while standing at a urinal?"
The belt is there as reinforcement to assist the trouser waistband in holding back a waistline that points in the direction of Type2 diabetes (You know your problem, you keep it all in). With a full bladder being compressed in there along with other stuff unless the waistband is released there is no way the amber nectar can find its way out. The pressure releases is often accompanied with an huge sigh or even a groan.
It's Friday o'clock, try not to be to obvious with your observations in the local pub.
That or unless rapid location of Mr(insert pet name here) is achieved then a thorough internal trouser soaking is in order and everyone on the tube thinks you're yet another pisshead.
"Here’s another inexplicable conundrum: why do grown men these days feel the need to unbuckle their belts and lower their trousers while standing at a urinal?"
In the case of jeans, I blame poorly made button flies for this phenomenon.
I have a pair (a generous Christmas gift from my wife) that is now permanently consigned to being worn around my home as at the slightest sniff of alcohol, I can't get the feckin' buttons undone and being caught with my belt undone is more appealing than being found unconscious on the floor of the urinal after banging my head hard enough on the urinal to knock myself out and peeing myself in the process.
Anonymous as I have both a tiny appendage and an inability to handle my drink. The perfect storm....
I belive the problem is that modern jeans have a fly (buttons or zips) which is much shorter than when I was a lad. Or maybe bits just hang lower as you get older. Either way the problem is getting the todger over the top of the lowest part of the opening requires dropping the trowsers a bit. Given the fad of so many youth wearing their jeans pre-lowered, I supect the problem is of the first mentioned rather than second.
Personally I have resolved the problem by wearing braces which allows me to drop the keks slightly without fear of them dropping to the floor.
@JassMan: You are the winner here, except that you overlooked the problem of getting your hand in far enough *under* the waistband. The fly on modern jeans is shorter mostly because the waistband is closer to the crotch (rather than because the bottom of the fly is higher up, although it might be). Because there is less space between the button at the top and the stitching at the bottom, you have less room (indeed, in some cases blatantly not enough) to get your hand in to hunt the trouser snake, so you have to undo the button and so it goes.
I think it's the equivalent of the MkII Escort with the go-faster racing stripe or mag alloy wheels for those past a certain age; a gesture intended to suggest that the beast under the bonnet is not defined by the clapped out bodywork. Clearly, it's important for most of us to have some notion of where we sit in the 'titanic trouser snake' stakes, but modern attitudes or no, staring too hard or directly isn't cricket, so the best we can manage is a peripheral glance. So there's an opportunity for the status conscious 30+ blagger to move a few rungs up the pecking order with a bit of visual deception.
Swagger up to the urinal with your shoulders set wide to enhance the physical prowess you are rapidly shedding and stand with feet well apart to emphasise the great weight you are carrying. When positioned, open the belt and flies as ostentatiously as possible with elbows out, both to further enhance your stature and to make sure no one can get a good look. Then makes as big a deal as possible of extracting mans best friend from the Calvin Klein's, deftly using your hands (spread and well forward) to both mask the mutton monster and simultaneously suggesting you are handling something massive that only a real man can control. At this point it's vital to vent your bladder as loudly and vigourously as possible, as the merest hint of bladder shyness is going to suggest you have something (or rather very little ) to hide. Shake once firmly in a way that suggests whiplash could be an issue, then repack similarly expansively, ensuring that your extra large pocket hanky is correctly positioned for maximum impact on departure.
Missed one:
Is of no bloody use whatsoever for that corporate login password to gain access to the machine in the first place, which is the one that must be at least n characters long, contain some esoteric combination of characters, be changed regularly and where each one must not be like the previous umpty-something used.
Or, in other words, the only one that I'm really likely to forget.
I can't even figure the point of having long-secure-with-freaking-special-characters-and-extra-onions-and-number-on-top as everyone and its mother use the facepalming "password recording" option in navigators and OSes.
Recording password is as stupid as the Ident-I-Eze card...
Keynote NT for me: Free tree-style note taker; stores everything in one file that can be encrypted. So you only need to remember the password to open the program and you can have a different and fiendishly complicated password for every service. Remembering shit is the computer's job. And as the file is encrypted, it's safe to sync to Dropbox or wherever, so losing your hard disk is recoverable from.
As a bonus you can have alarms on notes, so it reminds you of stuff too.
> Texting while pissing one handed.
Wouldn't a bigger risk while texting be the distraction leading to the old "unzip fly, take out tie, piss in pants" event? Maybe that's why people dress down on Pubday?
As for button flies, I can get them open fast enough for urgent relief, but find it very hard^H^H^H^Hdifficult when I try to get the last button done up again, without loosening the belt.
Alister, B4c0n4nd3gg! isn't working! For the briefest of moments I thought I might finally realise my dream of having an article published on El Reg, albeit under another's name. C'est la vie.
Not sure about all these lame excuses for the trousers down thing. Even with slurred speech, even when I'm vomitingly drunk I can still manage even a button fly so that doesn't wash and surely pressure on the bladder would make it come out quicker?
No I think the tiny penis answer is correct.
"why do grown men these days feel the need to unbuckle their belts and lower their trousers while standing at a urinal?"
Most of the time I wear sober pants with button flies, but for Christmas I was given two pairs of Calvin Kleins. It seems Calvin hasn't learned how to do flies yet, so the only way out is to haul the waistband down at the front. The elastic is very strong, presumably to withstand repeated haulings down. If it slips from your grasp and twangs back in mid-pee, the result is both painful and messy.
I suppose I could overcome this problem by unbuckling and lowering, but I'd have to lower the pants, too. I flatter myself that this might attract the sort of offer I'd prefer to refuse.
not the password entry the bothers me when it comes to gaining access to a website/my linux box/the robot setup parameters
Its those bloody capatas things... type in the leters you see in the box.... because you know what it looks like to
you will never in a million tries be what it actually says, then they includes capital letters that look like lower case, and numbers.. then 2 words to make things twice as hard until you finall scream in frustration and go down the road to a proper shop instead on the online version because its quicker and easier.
Then you do a search for capatas solvers and find out there are automated tools you can download that solves them instantly(and converts your machine into a spam bot/ddos bot as a bonus)
My senility has reached the point where "confirm new password" boxes are like landmines, lying in wait for my accidental fat hand capslock fail. The trouble with those public sector frequent password changes, is that I could never remember which one of the many post-its stuck to the bottom of the keyboard was the current one. Especially on Fridays. I'd usually ask one of my colleagues, because wey used any spare machines to run vast n bulbous worktrays without bringing the days business to a grinding halt, so logins were like gold dust. Cheaper than buying four licences for everyone, so management never screeched about security.
On the vital subject of trouserheight, I think tailoring has much to answer for. I like a baggy trouser, because nutcrushinglty tight strides do nothing for my comfort levels in offices or vehicles. All of my suit trousers have low slung flies, which allied with a sensible choice of undercrackers, allows a smooth transition from comfort to relief, without a three stage launch procedure. The repacking is also grief free, being at the correct height.
My theory is that the more time a chap spends unpacking his Clarksonian jeans, streaming his beer, and giving the little feller a good old shake, the less likely he is to wash his piss-soaked hands afterwards.
You stand at the urinal, unzip your fly, then discover that in a hungover fog of scurrying to get ready for work, that you've put your boxers on backwards and there is no hole to be found... Except in the back, which is convenient if you're preparing to be corn-holed. Which may actually be the perfect metaphor for a Monday at work anyway...
"why do grown men these days feel the need to unbuckle their belts and lower their trousers while standing at a urinal?"
Wear a nappy, problem solved*
*Apart from the smell of stale piss and horrified looks when you suprisingly pull and forget your wearing the thing in your pissedness of course, but hey, no belt fumbling all night inches from other mens penni eh?.
I've never observed the trouser phenomenon, but then I don't get out much. No real need, as I brew my own beer. In my nearly 40 years of computing, I've never had issues remembering or typing strong passwords. So I can't help with those particular issues.
But I can solve your "vibrating keyboard" problem. Get an IBM Model M. Sorted.
Beer, because ... well, it's bloody obvious.
The problem with muscle memory is it makes dictionary attacks possible.
Simple solution: learn to program in an obscure, outdated programming language. New muscle memory, but unlikely to be in the attackers' dictionary lists.
Z80 assembler anyone? A mathematical expression in FORTH?
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