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Jewish Hackers? Their Mothers Would Plotz!

Jewish Hackers? Their Mothers Would Plotz!

My email was hacked. If my hackers were Jewish, this is what probably went down.

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Have you heard? Yahoo recently issued a warning to change our passwords due to compromised email accounts by dangerous Hackers. There’s just one problem – to alter your password to something new, you need to remember the old one.

Mr. Hackenburg: She’s go Six kids? Not even orthodox. What was she thinking?

I recall contemplating it would be a good idea to make mine a Jewish food because I’m always hungry, and nobody would ever guess that. Apparently not even me.

I’ve already tried inputting, “BagelsAndLox” and “ApplesNHoney” but neither worked.

I remember thinking too many people knew my childhood dog’s name was Fluffy so I picked a favorite Jewish actor instead. But “AdamSandler” and “BenStiller” failed to open things up and typing in the name of actress who played Tzeitel in Fiddler on the Roof didn’t do a darn thing either, probably because she’s just the poor daughter of a milkman with no dowry. So now I sit here stumped, unable to think of any other favorite Jewish actors I would have entered at the time I created this account.

Since I’m locked out of my own email and the hackers (as poetic justice would have it, these ARE Jewish hackers!) have a field day wreaking havoc with my personal correspondence and running amuck through my photos. My only plan is to somehow “counterhack” (If that’s even a word? High-tech people, your consensus?) into my own account (while the hackers either take a Shabbos nap, dance a hora, or argue over who ate the last raspberry rugelach) and then quickly change my password to some random Christian holiday like Ash Wednesday or Good Friday – something they’d never guess, triumphantly regaining control!

As you can tell by this article, I’m just a “Hack Writer” so I think it’s fitting that I be one of the first people hacked. Having said that, I’m hoping to persuade my professional hackers to answer a few questions if they wouldn’t mind. So if you’re reading this – – I just need to satisfy my curiosity before you lock me out of my account forever.

Tell me please, while you were poking around my inbox, did you happen to notice if my novel got an acceptance letter from an agent? And if my son (who’s gonna be a dentist soon, can you match that kvell??) finally wrote to me, even if it’s just to ask for a loan? Lastly, did Esther Horowitz’s daughter ever message me a thank-you note for the nice Bat Mitzvah gift I sent six months ago? Oy, just this minute I took another stab at it with “CornedBeefOnRye” and “Jerry Seinfeld.” This Jewish food/Jewish actor puzzle is gonna drive me crazy.

To be honest, I’m feeling highly embarrassed (and violated) thinking of hackers, (Jewish or not) inside my account. My mother always taught me keep my room tidy so burglars wouldn’t be tempted to commit Lashon Hara. “Feh, you never saw such a slovenly kid as this one, keeps her piggy bank in her sock drawer!” But not once did she warn me to keep an organized inbox and clear out my draft folder. So can you really blame me for worrying, “What will the Hackers think?” Let’s find out, shall we?

I imagine hacking is lonely work so they must do it in pairs. I’d like you to meet, “Mr and Mrs. Hackenburg.” Let’s listen in . . .

Mr. Hackenburg: Will you get out of her Nordstrom’s account and her high school reunion emails already, Ethel? We have a job to do – let’s just get in, get out, and get on with the identity theft. (Rubs hands together)

Mrs. Hackenburg: Shame she never lost those last 5 pounds to fit into this halucious gold lamé dress. Look at this thing – ungapatchka much? Totally inappropriate for an occasion people haven’t seen you since 12th grade. And I don’t think I want to take on her name if I have to use her height and weight on my driver’s license too.

Mr. Hackenburg: Focus Ethel, focus.

Mrs. Hackenburg: (pouting) – We never go out anymore. Day in and day out, it’s just hack, hack, hack. Hacking my life away. I shoulda listened to my mother and married that Virus Creator Shlepper. At least then I coulda put my romantic flair to good use writing those “I Love You” attachments that messed up everyone’s hard drive.

Mr. Hackenburg: Stop giving me flack over this hack and stay on track.

Mrs. Hackenburg: Morris, you know I always have your back, but c’mon it’s time to hit the sack. You’ll have a coughing attack.

Mr. Hackenburg: It’s a hacking cough. Now stop being such a yakker, put down that matzo cracker and get to work, you Slacker Hacker!

Mrs. Hackenburg: Alright already, alright. But you’re taking me on that cruise after this. And getting me that dichroic glass menorah on Etsy. Oh look, her Visa bill shows weekly therapy and massages. Such a life.

Mr. Hackenburg: Wow, Six kids? Not even orthodox. What was she thinking? No wonder she needs therapy and massage. And look at this answer to her security question – who has a childhood dog named Gene Wilder? Nu??

Mrs. Hackenburg: Haha. Looks like she also googled, “Easy Pesach recipes that will fool your guests into thinking you slaved.” I’ve a good mind to email this article to her entire Seder guest list.

Mr. Hackenburg: Let’s keep our priorities straight here, Ethel. What’s this? She has the name of a Jewish handyman in her contacts! There’s such a thing??

Mrs. Hackenburg: Oh no, Morris! Look at this. In her Sent folder . . . an article about Jewish hackers that’s addressed to Jewlarious. What do we do now?

Mr. Hackenburg: The only thing we can do – let’s get the “hack” outa here! But first I’ll leave her a hint. “Your password begins with a ‘K,’ you Alter Cocker.” Between knish, kreplach, kishke, knaidlach, and kugel she’ll become even more of a mashugana.

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