Before And After LLM Raise

The evolution of developer laziness in one picture. 2020 devs manually checking every single number like they're counting on their fingers, while 2026 devs just outsource basic math to AI because why bother remembering if numbers are odd or even? The best part? Even Bjarne Stroustrup himself—the literal creator of C++—looked at this and went "Tell me: this is a joke?" Imagine building an entire programming language only to watch future developers ask ChatGPT whether 5 is odd. The man gave us templates, RAII, and the STL, and we repaid him by forgetting modulo operators exist. To be fair, the 2026 approach probably has better error handling than the 2020 version. At least until OpenAI decides that 7 is "spiritually even" or something.

So coding suddenly got 10x easier overnight with AI tools, but somehow we still need the same number of developers? Sure, Jan. The tweet's calling out the elephant in the room: if productivity supposedly skyrocketed thanks to ChatGPT and Copilot, why hasn't anything fundamentally changed in the industry? Either these tools aren't as revolutionary as VCs claim, or companies are just hoarding the efficiency gains while pretending everything's normal. Spoiler alert: it's probably both. The "fake ass industry" comment hits different when you realize we've been through this hype cycle before—remember when low-code platforms were gonna replace us all? Yeah, we're still here writing nested ternaries at 2 AM.

The evolution of developers has taken a tragic turn! Back in the glory days, programmers were depicted as muscular chads who wrote code without AI assistance or Stack Overflow, built entire games in Assembly language (absolute madlads), crafted mission-critical code for Moon landings, and fixed memory leaks by manually tweaking pointers. Fast forward to today, and we've devolved into bizarre creatures who can't center a div without Googling it for the 500th time, beg ChatGPT to fix basic syntax errors, get trapped in Vim like it's some kind of developer prison (":q! anyone?"), and somehow manage to create three new bugs while fixing just one. The brutal reality check hits hard. We went from programming gods to dependency-addicted gremlins who can't function without our precious tools. Progress?

When your commit history reads like a confession before execution. First you're casually doing some "AI slop" (probably copy-pasting from ChatGPT without understanding it), then comes the panic-induced "oops" commit, followed by the desperate "update gitignore" to hide the evidence of whatever catastrophe you just pushed to production. The real horror? That gitignore update should've been in the FIRST commit. Now everyone knows you either committed your API keys, pushed 500MB of node_modules, or worse—both. The fear is justified because your senior dev definitely saw this sequence and is currently drafting your performance review.

Nothing says "the future is bright" quite like someone predicting that by 2026, we'll all just collectively agree to ship mediocre code because AI can spit out working garbage faster than we can write clean, maintainable solutions. The argument here is basically: "Why spend time writing beautiful, well-architected code when your competitors are speed-running to production with AI-generated slop?" The term "slop" is doing some heavy lifting here—it's that perfect blend of "it compiles" and "I have no idea what it does." Sure, shipping velocity matters, but there's a special kind of dystopia where code quality becomes a competitive disadvantage . The comment "we all died in 2020 and this is hell" really ties it together. Because honestly? A world where craftsmanship loses to quantity, where technical debt is a feature not a bug, and where AI-assisted copy-paste becomes the gold standard... yeah, that tracks as hell. The real kicker is that this isn't even satire—it's a genuine concern about where the industry is headed when speed trumps everything else.