The Style Guys are back and this time they're taking it to your password. "But wait," you say, "How do they know my password? I've never told anyone." Fool! The Style Guys know almost every single piece of mortal knowledge! (The one thing they don't know is that Coca Cola used to have cocaine in it). Enough dilly dallying, it's time to let The Style Guys review your password.

Your Pet's Name

Streeter: Oh, how cute. You decided to use your old cat's name to protect all of your personal and financial information. Good work! To my knowledge no NASA thinktank could ever decipher the the impenetrable lock "Fluffernutter" provides on all your email. Face facts, your cat is dead and so is the usefulness of his name. This password choice is dumber than your stupid dead cat, which is pretty dumb considering that the cat almost drowned in the pool and suffered significant brain damage when it was a kitten. You might as well just make your password "dumb asshole," because that's what you look like when you pick a pet's name to protect your privacy. Your pet never respected your privacy – watching you do it, watching you on the toilet, etc – why would it protect your privacy now?

Amir: Brilliant. Was 'mother's maiden name' too obvious? Or was this actually the first security question you could think of? Oh, you added your favorite number to the end to throw off potential hackers, I see, nevermind. Just a question: who do you think knows your favorite number? That's right, your fucking pet! "Hmm thats odd, I don't remember making a purchase for 100 chew-bones?" Of course you don't, you idiot-head. While you're asleep, your little doggie is writing checks your debtors can't cash. Woof, woof motherfucker.

Your Name and Age

Streeter: Wow, you've really outdone yourself this time. It's so amazing how many levels a hacker would have to go through to arrive at "Steve19." Those morons will never figure it out! Wrong, idiot. Anyone with a basic concept of nomenclature and aging could figure out this retarded password. "But it's got letters and numbers," you say. Big deal, so does this sentence: "You're an asshole, 118." Plus, your age changes every year (Gasp!) so unless you plan on changing it every birthday you're going to have a hard time remembering if you were 14 or 15 when you opened that account. God, does your mother know you look at that stuff?

Amir: Instead of making this your password, maybe you should just go to a Hallmark store, and purchase several hundred-thousand invitations to criminals, begging them to steal your identity. Just make sure you left enough money underneath your bed to go back to that same hallmark store tomorrow and purchase an equal amount of 'thank-you' cards for those same criminals for taking the delicious metaphorical cookies you left on their equally metaphorical porches, ripe for the plucking. If that doesn't work, I suggest an evite, so you can at least save money on postage. Woof, woof, mother fucker.

Your Nickname

Streeter: Don't get me wrong, I think it's cool that all your buds call you 'Bean Bucket," it's just that I don't think it makes a very good password. For starters, all of your prankster friends will immediately assume that's your password and hack into your Facebook account with the purpose of posting disturbing messages on every cute girl's wall. Then they'll get into your email so they can send one to your Dad confessing that you are interested in men…sexually. Next they'll upload a bunch of naked pictures you have of your girlfriend to this website and transfer all the money in your bank account ($32) to the frat's beer account. Was it worth it, Bean Bucket? Was it?

Amir: Did you know that in 2005, thirteen mothers died at their children's funeral from a sudden heart-attack caused by grief? If that grief manifested itself into matter, it would be but a single grain of sand on the entire beach of sadness you cause by choosing such a horribly obvious password. Why did you just enter the first thing you heard after the computer prompted you for your password? Couldn't you have been just a little bit more patient? Your mother deserves to be attending your funeral very soon. Woof, woof, Motherfucker.

Your Hometown

Streeter: Way to go, All American! I bet they'll have a parade for you when you visit home at Thanksgiving. Making your hometown your password is an insult to any hacker trying to crack into your stuff. They probably won't even bother with you because you're such an embarrassment they don't want to be associated with such a classless dirtbag like yourself. Plus, people in your town probably don't appreciate being used to shield the wider world from knowledge of your torture fetish and membership in the Ren and Stimpy forums. It's good to have mixed interests but those two just seem mismatched.

Amir: Just because your family upped and relocated to ****, California doesn't mean you can choose such an obvious password. And now that your shift key doesn't work anymore you can't even tell your e-penpal where you grew up. She's opening up to you and you can't take the next step? Now you have a shitty password, and you can't commit. Congrats, grad. I mean — woof, woof, motherfucker.

Computer Generated Default

Streeter: God, you're pathetic. you couldn't even take ten seconds out of your busy day eating Sun Chips and playing Mario Kart to change your password from the system default. Maybe nobody will ever figure out that "Xb47YYl" will get into your email but passwords are only half about protecting your privacy. the other half of a password is it's style, and a randomly generated default password is anything but stylish ans sexy. Are you so stupid that you need to let the computer do your thinking for you? Don't be a robot, man, think for yourself and change that password pronto.

Amir: You let a computer generate a "random" password for you? Random like a fox. You don't think that computer is up late at night after you set it to 'sleep', spending some quality CPU time browsing websites hoping you're the poor sap that trusted him? "We built him to be trustworthy," said the dying scientist, with a calculator coming out of his brain. Before you know it, he's using your credit card to buy parts that make him more human. "I don't remember buying a heart… or these 100 bones…" That's right computers and dogs, poised to take over the world. No thanks to you, penisdick. Woof, woof, motherfucker.

Your Mom's Birthday

Streeter: Why don't we just stop pretending you know your mom's birthday.

Amir: You call that paying homage? Get in your damn car and put some flowers on her grave, son.

Next time you're opening a new account somewhere take a second to think before you type in your old reliable password. Instead, try The Style Guys' suggested password: "Password." Nobody will ever figure it out.

Remember, you can always send hate mail to