Stevieslaw: Cousin Myron’s Albanian Connection

Stevieslaw: Cousin Myron’s Albanian Connection
I could hear the wheels turning. Myron, my ferocious red-headed cousin, had called me last week in more of a tizzy than usual. That’s not easy, as Myron works himself up about nearly everything.
“They stole my steps,” he screamed into the phone, in what I’m sure he assumed was his most reasonable voice. “I lost 3200 steps, 14 stairs, 21 minutes and 35 seconds of sports activity and the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years. My Alpine merit badge with oak cluster is at risk,” he exclaimed tearfully.
For a minute, I thought that Myron had lost it entirely—he tells me once a week that his wife, Marsha, is driving him nuts—and then, I realized that Myron was talking about his Fitbit.
“They hacked your Fitbit,” I asked incredulously?
“They found my Fitbit password about a month ago and have been siphoning steps every day. Is nothing sacred,” he asked woundedly? “Fitbit has frozen my account for my safety. I need to come up with a 27 character alpha-numeric code involving capitals, numbers, and emoji symbols that has never ever been used before.”
“That’s easy,” he admitted, “But I will never remember it. Sure, I will write it down, but I will certainly lose the paper I write it on.”
Myron had been following a procedure used by more and more of us, who are not finely attuned to the ways of the web. First thing every morning, he would go to each of his on-line sites using his I-pad and click the little box that said “forgot password.” After breakfast, he would retrieve his passwords and visit his bank, his patient portal, his newspapers and magazines, and of course, his Facebook account.
Last week, someone hacked in and changed his e-mail address everywhere. His passwords are now sent to whoknowswhere.
“How is it that any 13 year old Albanian with a first generation I-phone has more access to my life then I do,” he questioned? “Oh,” he said and the phone went instantly dead.
Myron has been much happier this week. He told me over knishes and lean corned-beef on rye that since Besiana and Arian have taken over his internet security, life has been a breeze. I’m sure you’ve figured out the punch line. Besiana, who is 12, and Arian, who is 13 both live in Tirana, the Capital of Albania. Their services are not at all expensive. I can let you have their email address, as soon as I find the paper I wrote it on.

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