Watch Me Cry When I Cannot Solve The Next One

Ah yes, the dark ages of computing. Before FORTRAN showed up in 1956, programmers were just keyboard warriors in the most literal sense - manually toggling 0s and 1s like prehistoric savages. Nothing says "I'm having a productive day at work" like frantically flipping physical switches for eight hours straight while your coworkers wonder if you're having a seizure or actually programming something. The best part? Debugging meant checking if your finger slipped on switch #4,271. Good times.

Ah, the Haskell evangelist at the party. Standing alone in the corner, sipping his drink, silently judging everyone's inferior programming paradigms. He's mastered monads—those abstract mathematical structures that let you chain operations together—and desperately wants someone, anyone , to ask about them. Meanwhile, the rest of the party has collectively agreed to avoid eye contact lest they trigger another 45-minute lecture on pure functional programming and why their favorite language is "just a monad in a trenchcoat." The functional programming equivalent of a vegan who crossfits.

The classic Road Runner vs. Wile E. Coyote scenario reimagined as a programming loop disaster! On the left, Road Runner's code uses a proper while (not edge) { run(); } loop that will terminate when reaching the cliff edge. Meanwhile, poor Coyote is using a do { run(); } while (not edge); loop—checking the condition after execution. He's already run off the cliff because his condition check comes too late! The fundamental difference between pre-test and post-test loops perfectly illustrated through cartoon physics. The variable edge isn't even defined until it's too late, and by then gravity.js has already been imported!

The brutal truth of modern tech interviews! At home, you're basically Thanos with the infinity gauntlet of tools—VSCode, GitHub Copilot, DeepSeek, and other AI assistants making you feel like you could snap half the bugs out of existence. But the moment you step into that interview room? Suddenly you're Rhino from Spider-Man—sweating in a ridiculous costume while trying to remember how to reverse a linked list on a whiteboard. The cognitive dissonance between our tool-augmented daily coding superpowers and the bare-metal interview process is the ultimate developer identity crisis.

Remember when video games were just... fun? Before you became a programmer and couldn't help but see the collision detection glitches, frame rate issues, and spaghetti code lurking beneath the surface? Now you're sitting there calculating the physics equations they used for that jump animation, mentally optimizing their render pipeline, and thinking "that NPC pathfinding algorithm must be A* with a custom heuristic." The curse of knowledge strikes again. You've peeked behind the curtain, and now you can't unsee the matrix. Gaming will never be the same, but hey—at least you can impress absolutely nobody by explaining why that texture is flickering.

Classic off-by-one error in the wild. Six candles for a 26th birthday because arrays start at zero. The cake compiler didn't throw any errors, so clearly it's working as intended. That chocolate frosting looks suspiciously like a failed merge conflict resolution.