I have decided that the thing that I hate most on Earth is technology protecting me from myself. I don't want to change my password every two weeks to a password I've never used before. I will decide for myself if my password is strong enough. FleeBeetyBod72654@^%#_!! should not be the bare minimum level of security for my password. puckerup is sufficient. No, I don't want to receive a confirming text message or email. No, I don't want to confirm which number I see on a screen on my phone to open up email on my PC. No I don't want to receive a text at a phone number I haven't had for 3 years in order to access my profile to change it to my new number. No, and I mean FUCK NO!, I don't want to have to go to my email to click on a secure link to get access to a site, only to have to also click into a security confirmation on my backup email in order to enter the first email, so that I can click on said link to access the site login I wanted in the first place. I sure as fuck don't want to give my biometrics to the least secure company in the world who uses my personal information most extensively than anyone else, nor do I want to be endlessly prodded to do so. No means no, motherfuckers!
I am an adult. I accept that I may do things that might be less secure, and I am willing to take the risk that someone may gain access to my personal profile on the Medieval Plumbing channel. If I'm profligate in handing out my password to strangers, using "password" as my password, and clicking on random links from anyone who has died and left me money or who is offering me a bigger dick or free casino spins then I accept that's it's my fault and I'll accept the consequences. No matter what, the decision about the silly risks that I take should be mine, not the whim of the cornholing twatwaffle who is deciding what the security protocols should be that day. To said twatwaffle, know that I'm extending, with fervor and righteous indignation, the full thrust of my extended middle digit in your direction. May you take it or a reasonable facsimile (preferably something longer and with a bigger circumference) sit on it, and rotate on it at full speed until you projectile vomit from the g-forces all over your brand new leather chair..
Now, excuse me while I go yell at some clouds.
