Master Lock 5400D Select Access Key Storage Box with Set-Your-Own Combination Lock, 1-Pack

If you're still hiding your spare keys under the doormat, it's time for a better, more secure solution. The Master Lock 5400D Key Safe is a hanging unit that securely holds up to five keys. Compact and durable, this key safe will open only when you enter your personalized combination.



The Master Lock
5400D Key Safe
At a Glance:
Reinforced metal molded body
Holds up to five keys
Up to 10,000 combination possibilities
Hangs from doorknob, fence, or post
Limited lifetime warranty






No more secret
hiding places.




Holds up to five keys. View larger.


Always know exactly where your keys are.
Secure, Reliable Key Storage
Trustworthy and secure, the 5400D offers a convenient locking solution that holds up to five house or car keys. Great for people on the go, the 5400D means you'll always know exactly where your keys are. And for added peace of mind, this key safe will withstand the tools a thief might use to attempt entry.
The 5400D is a great key safe for people selling their homes, and it's also a smart choice for families with children who may need to enter the house when an adult isn't present.
Weather-Resistant Key Safe Hangs Anywhere
With a compact, lightweight design and portable, over-the-knob mount, the 5400D can be hung exactly where you need it--on a door, fence, or post. The compartment door pivots smoothly and remains attached to the lock body. For further convenience, an easy-grip, dome-shaped dial with contemporary metallic finish features easy-to-use combination dials.
Because the 5400D is most commonly hung out of doors, it's designed to withstand the elements. Specifically, a shutter door protects the combination dials from weather, dirt, and grime, so the result is rust-free performance and long life.
Built to last, the 5400D boasts durable die-cast zinc construction with vinyl-covered shackles to prevent scratching. What's more, its reinforced, molded body is built to last and helps to withstand hammering and sawing.
The Master Lock 5400D Key Safe is backed by a limited lifetime warranty.
Personalized Four-Digit Combination for Optimum Security
With the 5400D, it's easy to set your own four-digit combination. Just enter your chosen code for complete control over access to your keys. And because it offers up to 10,000 combination possibilities, this system is more secure than key locks, and it gives you the option of resetting the combination whenever you wish.
What's in the Box
Master Lock 5400D Key Safe with combination panel.

This is my mother as an army nurse. She is on the right holding the clothing. This magazine cover was one of her trophies. She was proud to be featured on the cover of this publication.

She never liked to have her picture taken, but I collected them, as an advocate for her. She started her young adult life full of vitality, ambition, and strength. Mary Lou Ripple found her way from Fort Worth, Texas as a poor baptist girl, through a catholic nursing school there, then into world war two in the Pacific. She was in the army, as a front line surgical nurse, in New Guinea, the Philippines, and Australia.

She married my father as she came back to the states from the war. But after a few years of marriage to my father, her strength of personality and ego diminished. She became weak, and gave her self esteem away to accommodate a domineering, selfish, womanizing husband, and their first daughter. Unfortunately, Mary Lou was a product of her era, and she unknowingly succumbed to external direction when it came to her beliefs about life. She did not think for herself about her place in the world, or how to regain her personal empowerment in the marriage to my father. She did know however, how to acquire the skills to present herself with proper social form to the public as a middle class woman. She put on a good show to try to convince people that she was from a better class of society, than the poor uneducated one she had grown up with in Fort Worth Texas. In actual personality, she was lukewarm to cool in emotion, and preferred to stay the withdrawn, isolated loner. She desired and learned how to quickly lose her southern accent, and sought to learn the social graces to be a proper lady of the 1950's in New England. She was embarrassed by her poor southern background, and chose to hide that association.

She never expected or wanted a gay son, and when suspected she got one, she withheld her maternal support. She did not speak up, and she did not protect me as a parent should, allowing me to be physically, and mentally abused. My father had made a special wooden paddle, that was saved and used solely to hit me with for punishment. My mother had her own tool of choice for punishment, and whacked me with a slotted metal kitchen utensil, that left red welts on my skin. This was more than a corrective tap for misbehavior. There were times of her anger when she would wrestle me to the floor, and get on top of me, with her knees pinning my little shoulders to the floor. I can not recall any justification for any of those punishments. I would ask myself, was she angry at me or just angry with herself in general? I did not deserve the pain for someone else's violations. A big insight for a such a small boy. I do recall that they became angry when I played with my mother's art pastels or other art supplies, or my father's woodworking tools. The punishments against me were overcompensations to the supposed "crimes" of playing like a child. I never understood what it was all about, or why I was singled out. The expression in our home was frequently that "Billy did it", as in I was always guilty on general principle, for every perceived violation. My family called me "Billy" as a nickname, rather than my given father's namesake, Arthur. I think they regretted giving me that namesake status, so they stuck with "Bill" all my life. I do not recall my sisters ever getting any type of physical punishment.

My mother took showers with me periodically, until I was 13 years old. I questioned whether this was morally and parentally, proper but I innocently did not speak up, or chose denial to avoid trouble . I remember her wearing a plastic shower cap, as she got into the tub with me. I think both of my parents thought this scheme up to, "cure me" of perceived homosexual tendencies, and to show me the "lure and value" of heterosexuality through my mother's exposed form and genitalia. I knew even at that age that it was a weird set of uncomfortable circumstances, and pretended that this inappropriate parental behavior was not happening to me.

My parents took me to a series of psychiatrists to have me "fixed", or "cured". One psychiatrist when I was middle school age, told me it was child abuse, from my parents. After I confronted my parents about this claim, there would never be another appointment made for me with Dr. Jones, the Coast Guard psychiatrist with a side private practice. The next appointment for me would be made with Dr. Coric, who would be in agreement with their viewpoint.

Mary Lou got the short end of the stick in life, but she brought it on herself with her ingrown ignorance, and resulting maladjustment to her circumstances, that is my opinion. She was an angrily smoldering, frustrated mouse, who had lost her way somewhere. She knew all the injustice that was going on toward her gay son, but turned a blind eye of denial, and put her h

this is not the real deal, but it's a funny story.


So…I delightfully purchased a vintage famicom (family computer!) game console off ebay last week... this console is the precursor to the NES that was released in Japan in 1983.

Now, I am a bit of a Nintendo purist, so I had already owned this glorious console many years previous (another ebay purchase of $400+). Unfortunately for me, I had given my prize away as a gift.

The age of my longing to have and to hold that the red and white magical plastic machine for myself has returned. . So, as mentioned, I look it up on ebay and make an astounding $32 dollar investment in the console. I am filled with glee.

It arrived yesterday. Our internets were down so a small crowd of geeky companions circled around my desk at work upon hearing the news of what had arrived. With anticipation, we opened the box as one collective mass of nerds to uncover the greatness the lie before us.

The unveiling was magical – people pawing at the console, books unearthed about the history of the video game – we were vultures and this was our feed. All of us, excited and delighted - my purchase at the forefront.

The internets never came back that day, so I took off early, happily packing up my new trophy and went on my way toward the ATT store in Union Square to pay my iphone bill. This day was awesome.

Even more when I discover that the ATT store is just a hop skip and jump away from the Mascone Center, the epicenter of the WWDC and the place where massive swarms of developers are buzzing about. I am very happy.

I wonder through them. I tried to forge my way through the crowds as though I belonged among them and tried to weasel my way into one of the parties nearby. I felt that I had privilege with my precious cargo and hoped someone would see and let me in... I was feverishly twittering hoping, too that someone would reach out...

Alas, my futile attempts to join the ranks of the rockstar developer world forced me to take a taxi back to my humble pacific heights home – far away from the glory and glamour.

Here is where things get really ugly. I carefully remove the famicom from its box while in the taxi as if I were a small child on the way home from toys-r-us. I investigate it further and begin to feel that something is a bit off… my heart is beginning to sink and I realize that I need to get home very quickly, as something is mighty suspicious about this.

I should have known better at the very low price point. I should have known better at the “video game” headline on the box. I should have known better at how very “new” it felt. Where is this leading you may ask?

The famicom is a fake. I know this because I owned one before and the on the original box and console it reads “family computer made by Nintendo” on my faux, it reads “video game” I also noticed a glitch in the packaging. Both family computer and video appear in a small photo on one side of the box.

Someone messed up their photoshop and forgot to remove a layer.

Disappointed and defeated, I search again for a famicom system…though, i am keeping my fake as a reminder that fakes not only apply to fendi’s and furniture, but to nerdy vintage video game consoles as well.

He held the reins to her heart once—and this time he won’t let go.


A Wild Ride story.


Willa Tate left Millbrook, Texas, years ago—along with her future, her fiance and her heart. Now, as one of the headlining acts at a hot burlesque club, she looks into the crowd, sees a familiar face staring up at her—and her past comes crashing back.


Chase Kiel has some hard questions for the former love of his life. He spent forever looking for her, and now he wants answers—even if he has to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to Millbrook to get them.


He’d find it a hell of a lot easier if the chemistry weren’t still there. If they didn’t still fit together like keg of dynamite and fuse. If he didn’t want not only his answers…but her heart.


Chase is still certain he and Willa belong together—and convincing Willa of it will be his pleasure.


Warning: This title contains explicit, powder-keg-hot sex, language that ain’t fit for your mama’s ears, and a hot cowboy with a Texas-sized heart.

He held the reins to her heart once—and this time he won’t let go.


A Wild Ride story.


Willa Tate left Millbrook, Texas, years ago—along with her future, her fiance and her heart. Now, as one of the headlining acts at a hot burlesque club, she looks into the crowd, sees a familiar face staring up at her—and her past comes crashing back.


Chase Kiel has some hard questions for the former love of his life. He spent forever looking for her, and now he wants answers—even if he has to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to Millbrook to get them.


He’d find it a hell of a lot easier if the chemistry weren’t still there. If they didn’t still fit together like keg of dynamite and fuse. If he didn’t want not only his answers…but her heart.


Chase is still certain he and Willa belong together—and convincing Willa of it will be his pleasure.


Warning: This title contains explicit, powder-keg-hot sex, language that ain’t fit for your mama’s ears, and a hot cowboy with a Texas-sized heart.