10000 Line PR? LGTM, LOL

OH. MY. GOD. The absolute AUDACITY of developers who sprinkle their code with TODOs like confetti at a parade! 💅 We're basically creating our own little graveyard of good intentions right there in the source code! Those TODOs are just digital tombstones marking the burial sites of features we'll "totally get to someday" but will actually rot there until the heat death of the universe. It's like leaving Post-it notes on your fridge about going to the gym – we all know that's NEVER happening, honey! The code equivalent of "I'll call you sometime" after a bad first date!

Ah, Linus Torvalds reviewing your pull request. That "1228" comments counter isn't a bug—it's a feature showing exactly how many ways your code violates kernel standards. Nothing says "I love your contribution" like enough feedback to fill a small novel. Your weekend plans just got replaced with deciphering variations of "No." and "This is terrible." At least rejection would've been quick and merciful.

Family gathering downstairs? Nah. Turkey dinner? Pass. Opening presents? Maybe later. But committing your AWS credentials and database passwords to a public repo in a blurry .env file while sitting alone with your laptop? Now that's the holiday spirit. Nothing says "Merry Christmas" quite like exposing your entire infrastructure to the internet. The tree is decorated, the lights are twinkling, and your BETTER_AUTH_SECRET is about to become everyone's secret. At least the photo is blurry enough that we can only read like 80% of those credentials. Security through jpeg compression—a strategy as old as time. Pro tip: Next year, maybe add .env to your .gitignore before you add it to your Christmas card.

The education system: "Plagiarism is unacceptable!" Programmers in the wild: "I stole your code." "It's not my code." Welcome to the real world, where Stack Overflow is our collective homework and GitHub is just a sophisticated copying machine with version control. The entire programming industry runs on the ancient art of Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V, followed by just enough modifications to avoid triggering the cosmic plagiarism detector. We don't steal code—we "implement existing solutions with attribution via forgotten browser history."

Social etiquette has rules: don't ask women their age or men their salary. But the REAL taboo? Asking developers to explain their commit messages. "Fixed stuff" could mean anything from a minor CSS tweak to preventing the entire codebase from imploding. "Minor changes" might have rewritten the authentication system. And that cryptic "WIP" from 2019? It's now load-bearing code nobody dares to touch. The commit history is less documentation and more of a psychological thriller where "refactoring" is code for "I broke everything and fixed it before anyone noticed."

The horror movie villain meets his match in a programmer who's seen far worse than a single operator change. While normal people would panic at the "find the needle in a haystack" challenge, our developer just sits there with cold indifference. That ticking clock? Please. Programmers live with the constant existential dread of merge conflicts and production bugs that make Jigsaw's little game look like a kindergarten puzzle. The villain's frustration in the last panel is priceless—turns out psychological torture doesn't work on someone who regularly stares into the void of legacy code without documentation.