Don't Release On Friday

Ah, the classic "No major incidents" status page showing complete service outages across the board. That special moment when your cloud provider's dashboard says everything is fine while your production environment is literally on fire. The date is from the future (2025) which means we have exciting new catastrophic failures to look forward to! Nothing builds character like explaining to your CEO why the app is down while the status page cheerfully reports all systems normal. It's just a little apocalypse, nothing to worry about!

That moment when your trendy "vibe coder" with their bootcamp certificate and chicken hat finally meets production code. The senior dev just watching as reality hits harder than a merge conflict on Friday afternoon. Three eggs on the floor already—each one a failed deployment. The chicken's like "You said you knew JavaScript?" and the dog's just sitting there with that thousand-yard stare that screams "I have no idea what I'm doing but I'm in too deep to admit it now."

Ah, the classic "I'll just install this cool new tool" saga that ends with your entire workflow in shambles. Cursor (an AI coding assistant) decided it wasn't content being just another app—it wanted to be THE app by hijacking the sacred 'code' command. This is why we can't have nice things in tech. Some product manager somewhere thought, "You know what developers would love? If we silently changed their muscle memory commands without asking!" Ten years of typing the same command, and suddenly you're launching the wrong app because some DevEx team decided their tool deserves keyboard shortcut supremacy. The real kicker is the "No prompt. No warning. Just broken flow." That's developer tool installation in its purest form—surprise chaos with a side of productivity loss. Always read the install scripts, kids. DevEx might be in the details, but so is the devil.

The modern JavaScript project directory, where config files multiply faster than rabbits. What started as a simple idea now requires 20+ config files just to tell your computer how to run "hello world". The character on the left represents the old-school developer shocked at seeing a modern TypeScript project with its ecosystem of linters, type checkers, and build tools. Meanwhile, the character on the right is just trying to survive in a world where your package.json needs its own support group.

The meme shows our entire digital infrastructure as this massive, complex, precarious tower of blocks—decades of legacy systems, patches, and workarounds stacked on top of each other. And what's our brilliant solution? Just aim a tiny slingshot labeled "AI" at it and hope for the best. This perfectly captures what happens when executives read one article about ChatGPT and decide we need to "transform the business with AI" by next quarter. Sure, let's just fling some machine learning at our Jenga tower of technical debt—what could possibly go wrong?

Ah, the classic software development cycle illustrated with feline precision! First panel: We start with a beautiful blueprint cat—meticulously designed with perfect proportions and elegant lines. Engineering perfection! Second panel: Resource allocation at its finest—80% of effort goes to the tail (that feature nobody will use), 14% to the legs (core functionality), 4% to the head (user interface), and a whopping 2% to the actual body (everything else that matters). Third and fourth panels: The pre-beta and post-beta cats look identical because let's be honest—nobody actually fixes anything during beta testing. Fifth panel: What the customer wanted? A FREAKING TIGER. Not even remotely close to a house cat. Sixth panel: Two versions later, the software has evolved into... a cat with an existential crisis and identity issues. Final panel: The ultimate truth bomb—despite delivering something completely wrong, users still stick around with a resigned "I still like you anyway." And the software's response? "TOOTS." Because at this point, it's just farting out updates.