The Audacity Of Non-Builders

The face every senior dev makes when some kid who just discovered "Hello World" starts dropping hot takes about the industry. That classic list of naïve programming opinions is what we veterans call "peak Dunning-Kruger." Sure, LeetCode will definitely prepare you for building enterprise systems that handle millions of users. And yes, we senior engineers just type "how to code good" into Google faster than juniors. Nothing says "I've never built anything real" quite like claiming backend is just "hitting APIs." Eight years of experience? More like eight minutes on a JavaScript tutorial.

The classic interrogation format where someone keeps inflating their job title until they're forced to admit they just make webpages. Starting with "I use AI to write code" (very impressive, very 2024), escalating to "I develop enterprise applications" (now we're talking six figures), and finally landing on the truth: "I make webpages." It's the tech industry equivalent of saying you're a "culinary artist" when you microwave Hot Pockets. Nothing wrong with making webpages—someone's gotta do it—but let's not pretend your landing page for Karen's yoga studio is the next AWS. The "Microsoft Certified HTML Professional" title is the cherry on top. HTML isn't even a programming language, and Microsoft definitely doesn't certify you in it. But hey, put it on LinkedIn anyway. Nobody checks.

Ah, the infinite loop of modern laziness! Instead of writing a prompt for an AI, this developer decides to make an AI write prompts for another AI... only to realize they've accidentally created recursion. It's like telling your intern to hire another intern to do their work. The real kicker? They think this accidental stack overflow is "peak software engineering." This is what happens when you're too clever for your own good but not clever enough to recognize you've just reinvented the wheel with extra steps. Somewhere, a computer science professor is weeping.

Corporate strategy in 2024: Watch AI zoom by, panic, grab it mid-flight, then pretend you were steering it all along. CEOs worldwide mastering the art of the strategic pivot from "what's generative AI?" to "we've always been an AI-first company." Nothing says executive leadership like retrofitting the arrow of progress into your PowerPoint after it's already been fired.

Someone volunteers to time travel and fix tech history, and naturally they go back to prevent the AI and cloud gaming hype. The guy literally says "Adiós" to the bubble (stack data structure joke intended) before popping it. But here's the kicker: he comes back to a timeline where everyone's just... sadder? Turns out preventing those "bubbles" didn't save us from anything—it just robbed us of the collective delusion that kept spirits high. The double meaning hits hard: "pop" as in popping a bubble (both the economic kind and the stack operation), and the desperate "please pop" like we're all begging for these trends to just burst already. But careful what you wish for—without the hype cycles, we're left staring at the void of what actually shipped.

Ah yes, the classic "make it smarter until it finds the loophole." Guy tries to solve Roomba crashes with a neural network, and now his vacuum cleaner just drives in reverse to exploit the blind spot. It's like watching evolution happen in your living room, except instead of developing wings, it's developed malicious compliance. The robot uprising won't be dramatic laser battles—it'll be household appliances finding increasingly passive-aggressive ways to technically follow instructions while making your life worse.