Me In Five Years

Copilot: "I executed the Python code" but forgot the actual code part! Classic AI assistant move - all results, zero implementation. That's like a chef saying "I cooked the meal, here's your empty plate!" The timestamp is there, but where's the datetime.now().strftime() magic that made it happen? Developers staring at this response are left to figure out the datetime formatting incantations themselves. The irony of an AI coding assistant that skips the most important part - the code!

Ancient Egyptians built massive pyramids with nothing but stone tools and manpower. Meanwhile, modern developers need sixteen JavaScript frameworks, three cloud subscriptions, and a $3000 MacBook Pro with 64GB RAM just to center a div. And they still complain about the Wi-Fi being slow.

Future managers surrounded by AI robots, desperately hunting down poor Devin who pushed that production bug? Welcome to the dystopian future where git blame has evolved beyond finding the commit author—it now deploys an army of robots to hunt you down. The irony is palpable. We've created AI sophisticated enough to replace workers, yet management still needs to find a human scapegoat. Some traditions never die, even in 2030. Pro tip: Always commit under your coworker's name when pushing questionable code. Future survival depends on it.

The perfect setup-punchline combo that hits every developer right in the terminal. The top panel builds suspense with "Wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?" (channeling Dumb and Dumber energy), only to deliver the devastating blow: "Why you don't use ChatGPT?" Complete with that perfect mix of judgment and horror on their faces. It's like that one coworker who won't shut up about their new tech stack while you're desperately trying to fix a production bug with good old reliable Stack Overflow and caffeine. The true horror isn't the question—it's the inevitable 20-minute lecture about prompt engineering that follows.

Look at this good boy pretending to be a "programmer" by wearing glasses and sitting in front of chemistry equipment. The modern equivalent of putting on a stethoscope and claiming you're a doctor. Prompt engineering isn't programming, Karen. Asking ChatGPT to build you a website is like asking a golden retriever to perform surgery—sure, they're enthusiastic about helping, but someone else is definitely cleaning up that mess later. The real irony? The dog probably has a better chance of writing functional code than someone whose entire tech stack is "Hey ChatGPT, fix this thing I broke."

The duality of developer paranoia in 2023. On one side, the existential dread that AI will make us obsolete. On the other, the calm realization that these systems still struggle with basic programming tasks that require context and depth. Sure, ChatGPT can spit out a quick algorithm, but ask it to architect a complex system that doesn't fall apart after the 10th line of code? Good luck with that. The machines aren't taking our jobs—they're just automating the Stack Overflow copy-paste part we were already doing anyway.