C++ Gives Me Too Much Power

The first letters of all those variables spell out "RUSTSSUCK" - a hidden message from a C programmer who's clearly not thrilled about Rust creeping into Linux kernel development. It's like leaving a passive-aggressive Post-it note in the codebase that only other developers will notice. The perfect crime! Whoever wrote this probably giggled for hours while their coworkers remained oblivious to the alphabetical middle finger hiding in plain sight.

The eternal standoff between developers and compilers! Your precious code is like a rickety fort that you're convinced is architectural brilliance. Meanwhile, the compiler crawls in, sniffs around, and goes "something's definitely off in here." But who needs warnings anyway? Just slap on those -Wno-everything flags or @SuppressWarnings annotations and suddenly your code is flawless again! The compiler may detect 47 potential null pointer dereferences, but clearly it just doesn't understand your genius implementation of Schrodinger's variable that's simultaneously null and not-null until observed in production.

The classic C++ experience in four acts: compilation success, runtime catastrophe. Imagine thinking you've won because your code compiled without errors. That's like celebrating because your parachute folded nicely before discovering mid-jump that it's actually filled with confetti. The personified C++ language is basically gaslighting the programmer: "Zero syntax errors! You're good to go!" while secretly knowing the segmentation fault apocalypse awaits. It's the programming equivalent of "the food is perfectly safe" followed by violent food poisoning. Segmentation faults - where C++ reminds you that memory management is your problem, not hers.

The left side shows all the fancy modern game development tools - Unreal Engine, Unity, powerful programming languages, and sophisticated 3D modeling software. Meanwhile, on the right side, there's just "6502 Assembly" - the programming language from the 1970s used in ancient systems like the Atari and Commodore 64. It's like comparing Olympic shooters - the one on the left has access to every cutting-edge tool in game development, while the one on the right is basically coding on a calculator with a rusty nail. And yet somehow that Assembly programmer still ships games that people actually finish playing instead of waiting for 50GB day-one patches.

Even ancient philosophers can't escape syntax errors! Poor guy is sitting there contemplating the universe when his real problem is just a typo. He declared "ovid" instead of "void" and now his existential crisis is actually just a compiler error. The statue's deep contemplative pose really sells it - like he's been debugging for 2000 years and still hasn't spotted the missing 'v'. Classical debugging at its finest!

Nobody in the history of programming has ever chosen an endianness based on performance. But choosing big endian because it "looks pretty" in a hex editor? That's the kind of arbitrary decision that haunts codebases for decades. Some dev probably made this call back in 2003 and now there's an entire team maintaining compatibility layers for it. For the uninitiated: endianness determines how bytes are ordered in memory. Little endian (0x01 0x02 0x03 0x04) reads as 0x04030201, while big endian reads naturally as 0x01020304. Absolutely nobody cares until you need to transfer data between systems, then suddenly everyone cares very much .