Never Ask For Help Debugging

Ah, the unofficial battle cry of every software project ever started. WE DO THIS NOT BECAUSE IT IS EASY, BUT BECAUSE WE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE EASY. Nothing captures the soul-crushing reality of development quite like that red flag of truth. Every project starts with "Yeah, should take a couple days" and ends with you explaining to management why you're still debugging the same issue three weeks later. The eternal optimism followed by the crushing reality is basically our industry's business model at this point.

You know that feeling when you change a single semicolon in a legacy codebase and suddenly the entire architecture decides to have a nervous breakdown? Yeah, that's what we're looking at here. The Simpsons house defying all laws of physics and structural integrity is basically every production system after you "just fix that one typo." Everything still technically works, but gravity stopped making sense and Homer's floating through the living room. The code passes all tests, deploys successfully, and then you check the logs. Should you rollback? Probably. Will you? Not before spending 4 hours trying to figure out what cosmic butterfly effect you just triggered.

When a developer thinks they're a Git wizard but hasn't quite mastered the dark arts... git push --force is basically the programming equivalent of saying "I know what I'm doing" right before catastrophe strikes. It's that command that overwrites remote history with your local changes, consequences be damned! The poor soul in this comic learned the hard way that Git doesn't come with an "undo apocalypse" button. One minute you're confidently force-pushing changes, the next you've erased months of your colleagues' work and suddenly everyone's Slack status changes to "contemplating violence." And just like that bike crash, there's no graceful recovery from nuking your team's repository. You just lie there, contemplating your career choices while frantically Googling "how to restore git history please help urgent!!!"

The elegant ascent of coding confidence versus the awkward stumble of performance anxiety. Nothing turns a seasoned developer into a bumbling intern faster than someone peering over your shoulder. Suddenly, basic syntax becomes quantum physics, variable names might as well be ancient hieroglyphics, and your fingers develop a mysterious allergy to the correct keys. The brain's instant response? "Quick, forget everything you've known for years!" It's like your code knowledge has a strict privacy policy that activates the moment witnesses arrive.

Content Katerina Borodina kathyra 15h 'I'm a programmer" - boring - nerdy - people will ask you for tech help " am one with the machines, intrinsic in silicon, entwined with physics" - powerful - people will think you're weird and will leave you alone. success! now you can get back to debugging 45 17 916 3,586

Why fix what's broken when you can just throw it away and build it again from scratch in Rust? Developers turning their noses up at the sensible option of refactoring existing code because the siren call of rewriting everything in a shiny new language is just too tempting. Sure, it'll take 6 months longer, introduce 47 new bugs, and the business stakeholders will be pulling their hair out, but hey—at least you'll get to tell everyone at meetups that you're "memory safe" now.