The First Commandment Of IT

Looking at your two-week-old code like it's ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics is the universal developer experience. The mental gymnastics of trying to decode what past-you was thinking is harder than solving the actual bug. Your brain frantically searches for memories: "Did I write this during that energy drink bender?" No documentation, no comments—just mysterious symbols that might as well be instructions for building a pyramid. Future tip: Comment your code or prepare for archaeological expeditions into your own creation.

Content Your first podcast will be awful Your first video will be awful Your first article will be awful Your first art will be awful Your first photo will be awful Your first game will be awful But your first code will be perfect. Zero bugs and a very clean code. It will be "Hello World"

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Content When you finally finish debugging everything you think could possible be debugged Error Could not copy files because no

The judgmental stare of an impala when your code looks like a teenager's diary. That moment when you submit a PR with more emojis than actual logic, and the reviewer's soul visibly leaves their body. The code might run, but at what cost to human dignity? Nothing says "I definitely wrote this myself and didn't use AI" like commenting every line with a different animal emoji and explaining obvious functions with "this makes the thing do the thing." The reviewer isn't mad, just disappointed... and questioning their career choices.

Content Figure out your code Spend an hour solving a nonexistent error created by the way you're testing the code Write it neatly down Spend an hour solving a nonexistent error created by the way you're testing the code