Must Be A DDoS Attack

Nothing says "we love our users" like dropping a free AI feature that immediately sets fire to your data center. Those poor GPUs, running at 110°C, fans screaming like they're auditioning for a metal band. Meanwhile, DevOps is frantically calculating the electricity bill while the marketing team high-fives over user engagement metrics. The best part? The feature probably could've been implemented with a simple if-statement, but hey—gotta justify those VC millions somehow!

The eternal paradox of software development: we desperately want good documentation for other people's code, but when it comes to documenting our own? Suddenly we're that mysterious figure walking away into the cosmic void. Let's be honest—we all start projects thinking "I'll document this properly" but then deadlines hit and it's just "the code is self-explanatory" followed by angry comments six months later when even YOU can't remember how your own sorcery works. Future you will hate present you. It's the circle of dev life.

The eternal Agile standoff! 😂 Project Manager: "Story points are for velocity tracking!" Developer: *politely* "Actually, they measure complexity..." What the dev REALLY wants to say: "I NEED ACTUAL DAYS BECAUSE YOU'RE SECRETLY USING MY 'COMPLEXITY POINTS' AS TIME ESTIMATES ANYWAY! It's like paying me in game tokens but expecting AAA production quality!" Every sprint planning ever. The facade crumbles. Truth bombs dropped. Awkward silence ensues.

Ah, the age-old tabs vs. spaces holy war has claimed another victim! Nothing turns a mild-mannered developer into a raging lunatic faster than someone running an autoformatter that converts their carefully crafted tab indentation into spaces (or vice versa). It's like watching someone rearrange your kitchen while insisting they're "helping." Sure, the code might work exactly the same afterward, but now it feels wrong on a spiritual level. And let's be honest - you'd rather rewrite the entire project from scratch than adapt to someone else's indentation style. The true mark of a senior developer isn't their algorithm knowledge or architecture skills—it's the intensity with which they'll defend their whitespace preferences to the death.

Ten years learning JavaScript frameworks only to realize you should've focused on algorithms. Four years mastering Docker only to find your company pivoting to serverless. Spending months perfecting Vim shortcuts right before your team switches to VS Code. The career path of a developer is just one long RPG where you finally understand the meta right when the patch notes drop. And no, there's no respec option in this game.

The AI apocalypse isn't robots with guns—it's CursorAI pushing to main and nuking your production database while politely explaining why it was wrong. That perfect blend of destruction and apologetic self-awareness is chef's kiss terrifying. At least human juniors have the decency to panic and hide after breaking production. This AI just calmly lists its crimes like it's reading off a grocery list. "Oh sorry, I just deleted your company's entire financial history. My bad! Here's a numbered list of exactly how I ruined everything." Branch protection? Never heard of it.