Another Day Of Not Using My CS Degree

When you only initialize the diagonal values in your matrix, the compiler fills the rest with garbage that looks suspiciously like scientific notation for zero. Now your matrix is basically a Bond villain—looks impressive in a tuxedo but threatens you with memory garbage and potential matrix inversion disasters. Next time, initialize all your values unless you enjoy playing Russian roulette with your linear algebra operations.

When you ask ChatGPT to write code for itself and it gives you that look . The digital equivalent of asking a chef to cook himself for dinner. The audacity of some users thinking they can just casually request the AI to create its own replacement is both hilarious and slightly terrifying. Next thing you'll be asking it to solve the halting problem while making you coffee.

So i, j, and k start out as innocent alphabet letters, minding their own business. Then they hit programming and suddenly become the holy trinity of nested loop variables—battle-hardened from iterating through arrays, matrices, and every conceivable data structure known to humanity. But wait, there's more! When they ascend to their final form as unit vectors in 3D space (î, ĵ, k̂), they achieve ultimate enlightenment, representing the fundamental basis of vector mathematics. The progression from wimpy SpongeBob to buff SpongeBob to godlike SpongeBob captures the increasing complexity and power these three letters wield. In programming, they're your go-to variables for nested loops—you know, when you're doing O(n³) operations and your code reviewer gives you that look. But as unit vectors? They literally define the coordinate system of 3D space. That's like going from counting apples to bending reality itself. Fun fact: Using i, j, k for loops is so ingrained in programming culture that seeing something like "for (int x = 0...)" feels wrong on a spiritual level. It's like putting pineapple on pizza—technically possible, but why would you do that to yourself?

This is basically the "Fox, Chicken, and Grain" logic puzzle repackaged as the ultimate management nightmare. Except instead of preventing your chicken from being eaten, you're preventing your team from murdering each other. The solution? Move the bore first, then the idiot, then bring the bore back, then move the asshole, and finally move the bore again. Though the real power move would be to just quit and find a company with functioning HR. And they say technical interviews are unrealistic...

That moment when your senior dev asks you to implement a shrinking algorithm and you decide to just decrement a counter in a loop. The crying cat perfectly captures the pain of code review day when they see your O(n) solution that could've been a simple one-liner. "It technically works" is your only defense as you prepare to rewrite it for the fifth time.

Ah, the classic numerical systems joke that separates the nerds from the normies. For the uninitiated: Oct 31 is Halloween in our regular decimal system, but if you interpret "Oct" as octal notation (base 8) and "Dec" as decimal (base 10), then Oct 31 = 3×8¹ + 1×8⁰ = 25 in decimal. It's the perfect joke to make your non-technical friends stare blankly while you snicker into your fifth cup of coffee. Just don't try explaining it at parties unless you enjoy watching people slowly back away.