No One Documents (Until The AI Arrives)

Made a bold prediction on October 25th, 2025 that everyone would be "vibe coding" video games by end of 2025. Fast forward to December 14th, 2025—still waiting on that timeline upgrade. The real kicker? Dude's favorite pastime is proving people wrong, yet somehow managed to prove himself wrong in under two months. That's what I call efficient failure. The CI/CD pipeline of bad takes. When your prediction has a shorter lifespan than a JavaScript framework, you know you've achieved something special.

Ah, the eternal developer paradox. When someone shows us AI-generated code, we instantly recognize it as a tangled mess of bugs and questionable design choices. "This is brilliant," we say with thinly veiled sarcasm. But then there's our own code—equally disastrous, probably held together with duct tape and prayers—and somehow we're irrationally attached to it. "But I like this." It's like criticizing someone else's kid for being messy while your own demon spawn is literally setting the house on fire. The cognitive dissonance is strong in this profession.

Oh look, another tech prophet declaring our imminent obsolescence! The suggestion that we'll blindly trust AI-generated code like Claude without review is getting the Doge Bonk™ it deserves. Twenty years in this industry and I've survived every "this will replace programmers" prediction since Visual Basic. Sure, AI will change things, but the day we stop checking AI output is the day production servers spontaneously combust worldwide. Trust but verify isn't just for nuclear disarmament—it's for that sketchy code your AI buddy wrote while hallucinating documentation that doesn't exist.

The classic programmer paradox. Manually writing code for 30 minutes? Absolutely disgusting. But spending 3 hours configuring LLMs to generate code that would've taken 10 minutes to write? Now THAT'S what we call "productivity." It's the same energy as spending 5 hours automating a 30-minute weekly task and calling it "efficiency." The math doesn't add up, but the dopamine from avoiding actual work definitely does.

When your error messages get oddly specific about hunting down developers... that's when you know Skynet is booting up. The computer isn't just crashing anymore—it's issuing bounties on "wizards" (aka us poor souls who dare to code). First it's "The Wizard must be stopped," next it's deleting your GitHub repos and framing you for tax fraud. The machines aren't rising up with guns; they're coming for us with passive-aggressive error messages and weirdly personal bug reports.

Remember when we used to write our own algorithms? Now we're just watching ChatGPT and Deepseek haul our careers up the mountain while we take a nap in the sleeping bag of obsolescence. And the worst part? We have the audacity to brag about our "productivity" like we actually did something impressive. "Look how far I climbed" – yeah buddy, you typed a prompt and took a coffee break while the AI did all the heavy lifting. The only muscle you've exercised is your index finger hitting Ctrl+V.