Naked in the alley, I want my pants

That's where my house key is. And a tiny LED flashlight, in case it's dark in the alley (which I devoutly hope it is). In my pants. How obvious is that? And what's with this guy, Amal Graafstra, anyway, obsessing about being naked in an alley without his house key? The guy should get himself some pants, is what I say.

But no. Graafstra, delicately described as an "entrepreneur based in Vancouver, Canada" (ah, maybe that explains it), belongs to a (very) small coven of leading-edge technobimbos implanting themselves with those electronical RFID computer chip things.

(Musical Interlude)

I got a rose between my toes
From running barefoot through the hothouse
To you, pretty baby,
I got your house key in my nose
And your password underneath my fingertips...

Oh well. This guy's house key and password - and other mysterious things, one supposes - are on the RFID chip under his skin. This, presumably, saves him time. Or at least saves him buying pants.

On the whole though, I'm not sure it's such a great idea. In the first place, what if he moves? Or buys a new car or a new computer? And in the second, how does he know the little chip in my hand isn't some kind of nifty gadget that will suck up all his passwords and keys the first time we shake? And in the third, some other stuff. (I cringe to think of all the implants I would have had, with all the houses, cars, and computers I've come into possession of over the years.)

Certain security freaks I know, by the way, advise me a password is only good for the length of time it take somebody else to figure out what it is. That could be a very short time if your password is a short, simple one like "me" (oh please, please tell me it's not) or a very, very long time if it's a long and well-formed one, always assuming computers get no faster and crackers get no smarter than they are. Which leads conventional wisdom - being conventional if nothing else - to suggest one should change one's password from time to time, just on principle. Or passwords (yeah, what if the guy has two computers, one at home and one at work, huh?), but don't get me started on that.

So my advice is, if you're going out in the alley put on some pants.

And if you know the password for my old answering machine please let me know, because the new one sucks.

PS. My uncle, the New York one, was famous for arriving at the theater one night and saying to his wife, "Gee, I wish I'd brought the piano."

"Why," my aunt asked.

"Because I left the tickets on it," he said.

So let me amend my advice. Put on your pants, and take the piano just in case.

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