Three D Donut In C Tastes Good

Ah, the sweet smell of revenge coding. This guy's building a music visualizer in raw C with FFT analysis, FFMPEG integration, and custom rendering—just to flex on React developers who'd need 17 npm packages and 3GB of node_modules to draw a circle. The best part? His audio visualizer actually looks pretty damn good. Nothing says "I've seen some things" like writing UI code that's closer to the metal than most devs will ever get. React devs frantically Googling "how to use pointers" as we speak.

Ah, the classic D&D alignment chart but for programming languages. C++ is the lawful paladin who follows strict rules but will absolutely destroy you with pointer errors when you least expect it. Python sits in neutral good territory – friendly enough but secretly judges you for not using proper indentation. And then there's Perl, the chaotic good wizard who can solve your problem with a one-liner that looks like someone headbutted the keyboard. The middle row is where the shell scripting languages live in various states of neutrality. BASIC exists in true neutral because it's too old to care anymore. The bottom row is where programmers' souls go to die. Assembly is lawful evil because it makes you do everything yourself, but at least it's honest about it. And MALBOLGE? Named after the eighth circle of hell in Dante's Inferno for a reason. It was literally designed to be as difficult as possible to use. Notably absent: JavaScript, which would need its own category somewhere between "chaotic evil" and "eldritch horror beyond human comprehension."

The statement "C and C++ are perfect languages for building high-performance systems" is true. The statement "C and C++ aren't only some of the easiest programming languages" is false. So false it hurts. Like segmentation fault hurts. Anyone who calls C/C++ "easy" has either been coding since the 70s or enjoys manual memory management the way some people enjoy getting teeth pulled without anesthesia. Sure, they're blazing fast, but so is falling down a flight of stairs.

Ah, the eternal quest for speed. Cheetahs? Fast. Airplanes? Faster. Speed of light? Impressive. But nothing—and I mean nothing —breaks the sound barrier quite like that app you rewrote from Python to C++. After weeks of replacing those cozy, readable Python lines with pointer arithmetic and memory management nightmares, your application now runs so fast it's practically time-traveling. Sure, it took 10x longer to develop and the codebase is now an impenetrable fortress of segfaults waiting to happen, but hey—look at that progress bar maxed out! Worth every sleepless night debugging those memory leaks. Totally.

Look at us flexing with our fancy Python, JavaScript, and LLM integrations while the entire banking system runs on COBOL written by someone who retired in 1997. The real heroes aren't the bodybuilders showing off their shiny new frameworks—it's the lone programmer carrying decades of legacy code on their shoulders. Nothing says job security quite like being the only person who remembers how to maintain systems that process trillions of dollars daily but can't handle Y2K without duct tape and prayers.

The classic developer trap: "I'll just use threads to solve this!" Fast forward 10 minutes and you're debugging race conditions, deadlocks, and wondering why your CPU is on fire. It's like trying to fix a leaky pipe with a flamethrower—technically you've solved the original problem, but now your house is burning down. Multithreading: turning one straightforward problem into an exciting collection of non-deterministic nightmares since the dawn of computing.