Chronic Password Deficiency Syndrome
Many of my friends complain all the time about passwords. They piss and moan that passwords are needed for everything. Not me. I am soooo grateful for passwords. The more the better! Without passwords, imagine how many people could steal my stuff.
However, the other day it dawned on me how vulnerable I am because I am “password deficient.”* I am very lucky to have a competent tech team. They got right on it. We took care of some areas of my life that were not username and password protected. Whew!
I want to share with you what these bastards will have to deal with when they try to mess with me:








Take THAT you hacker sons-of-bitches from Russia, Nigeria, and Iran.
*Harvard School of Public Health has just released a massive five-year study about why Americans are so depressed, lonely, alienated, and sometimes suicidal. The cause is the dreaded Chronic Password Deficiency Syndrome.
Harvard reported that the only cure for CPDS is more passwords. As you can imagine, because of this new research, there has been a run on passwords. How discouraging. The other day, a new company I wanted to do business with asked for my password. I typed in the one I had. Got back: “We are sorry. That has already been taken.” I tried another, and another, and another. After five minutes I became so angry, I thought, “OK you pricks, here is my final offer: ‘Fuckyouyougoddamnsonsabitchesandthehorseyourodeinon!'” After 30 seconds I got a note back, “We’re sorry that password is already taken.”
Older People Look Alike
It has often been said that in old age we begin to look like our spouse. The other day we were on a Zoom call with Mary and John Warren. Mary McGlynn was upstairs at her computer and I was downstairs at mine. Imagine my shock when I noticed how we looked on screen. Scary.

Corneal Transplant… or…
Knife in the Eye Adventure
Dear Reader: Warning… this article describes and illustrates eye surgery. If this is not your “cup of tea,” best to skip it all together.
Wednesday morning. San Francisco Eye Clinic. 10:30AM. Through the reverie of my “light sedation,” I could hear voices, five or six people. They were preparing to cut into my left eyeball.
Dear friend Melinda Henning has accused me: “Every experience you have, you turn into a seminar.” Well, this is not a seminar, just a short story.
For about a year and a half, I’ve been dealing with two left eye problems: corneal edema and macular degeneration. This surgery is to replace the endothelial layer of my cornea with one from a “donor.” It is a common procedure. My doctor, Isabella Phan, has performed hundreds of these operations. I kidded her, “Well, Isabella, I hope you took your Parkinson’s meds today.” Lots of laughs.


In the recovery room, I am slowly returning back into the real world. I have to stay here for a post-op one hour of observation of things like blood pressure. A nurse sits next to me doing all the necessary observations. We sat in silence for about 15 minutes. She was pleasant and attentive. I asked a few perfunctory questions. Olivia was young and enthusiastic. Finally I asked, “So, Olivia, what is your story?” We were off to the races.
“Oh, I don’t have a story, Mr. Gilbert.” “Everyone has a story,” I said. She grew up in Modesto and got a nursing BA from Stanislaus State University. She got this job six months ago and moved to a one-bedroom apartment in Pacific Heights – a safe neighborhood, she was quick to add. Her family was worried about Olivia moving to the big city.
“Bet you are the oldest sibling in your family,” I said. Surprised she said, “Yes. How did you know?” “The eldest often are drawn to helping careers like medicine. Bet you took care of younger sibs,” I said. Yep. Olivia explained that she is working to get advanced certification in post-op nursing care.
I asked, “What about romance and marriage and kids?” “No, no, no,” she shot back emphatically. “I am all about my career.” I complimented her commitment. “Bet your family is very proud of you.” She seemed to choke up a bit. “Thank you for noticing. You have made my day.”
Olivia walked me out to the car where Mary was waiting. As she opened the door for me, I turned to her, gave her a hug and said, “Well I’m sure proud of you. You are doing important work.” She couldn’t see, but I wiped a tear as I settled into the passenger seat.
For the next 24 hours I had to lie flat on my back so the gas bubble they inserted could hold the new tissue in place.
On Thursday I was back in the clinic for post-op exam. There was a problem. Some of the bubble was not in place and had to be repaired – an easy procedure that could be done in the office. Still, though, needle in the eye is no fun. I asked Mary to photograph it. Dr. Phan said OK, but did not want us to take her photo.


All went well. Afterwards, I asked Dr. Isabella Phan about her name. I got that Phan was Vietnamese, but Isabella seemed Spanish. Talk about an interesting story! Her parents had escaped from Vietnam after the war, and she was born here. They wanted a boy and were going to name him Christopher after Columbus – a statement of pride in their newly adopted country. But, she was a girl. So, you guessed it, they named her Isabella after Queen Isabella who funded Columbus. I now call her Queen Isabella rather than Dr. Phan.
I am a week post-surgery. Every day my eye feels stronger. I’ll keep you posted. Hooray for Kaiser and Medicare.
Welcome to my comrade in rule ptovefures. The better to see you with.
Your password story — and solution — is hilarious!!!! I know every one of us can relate. And now, not only passwords, but they send you a code you have to enter. And lots of companies won’t accept a Mexican phone number for the code. I am actually going to have to purchase a cheap U.S. cell phone, just so I can receive those stupid codes. So now before you make your coffee or drive your car, get out your cell phone to send them back their !@#$%^&* code!!! — And I’m traveling in Asia and have not yet seen a paper menu. All they give you is a QR code. And I don’t have data here. — Tech is supposed to uncomplicate our lives. Maybe some day!!! — Loved this post. Sooo funny. And good luck with your eye!!!
Thanks for the update on your surgery as I was going to call you. Happy to hear it is going well.
How did you figure out my password? Fuckyouyougoddamnsonsabitchesandthehorseyourodeinon
I’m glad Queen Isabella Phan had the right password to get into the room for your eye surgery!
Notice how I blended the two stories into one comment?!
Of course you could use a top secret password like 123456. While they are trying to crack the more complicated ones, you could slip by undetected ; – ). DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!