All According To Keikaku

The ultimate recursive nightmare: adding .gitignore to your .gitignore file. It's like telling your version control "please ignore my instructions to ignore things." Then wondering why your repo is either tracking everything or nothing at all. The digital equivalent of putting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on your "Do Not Disturb" sign.

Ah, the sacred ritual of CI/CD pipeline watching. The top panel shows the responsible choice of starting another ticket while your code builds—a noble yet fictional aspiration we all pretend to have. Meanwhile, the bottom panel reveals the truth: you're already scrolling Reddit, fingers crossed that Jenkins doesn't send you that dreaded "build failed" email while you're 17 posts deep into r/ProgrammerHumor. Let's be honest, those 3-5 minutes of build time are basically developer-sanctioned microbreaks. Why solve problems when you can watch other people solve them on the internet?

The horror! The absolute existential dread of discovering your old code lurking in a production codebase. It's like opening a time capsule filled with questionable life choices and embarrassing fashion statements, except this one can crash servers. Every developer has that moment of "who wrote this garbage?" followed by the soul-crushing realization that you are the author of said garbage. The code you wrote six months ago might as well have been written by your evil twin who hates documentation and future-you specifically. The box isn't just holding code—it's containing your shame, your technical debt, and that "temporary" solution that somehow survived three major releases. Touch it? You'd rather stick your hand in a blender. At least the blender would be honest about its intentions.

Whoever told Google that software development is "low-stress" clearly never had to fix a production bug at 2 AM while the CEO breathes down their neck. Next thing you'll tell me is that JavaScript frameworks don't change every 12 minutes and git merge conflicts resolve themselves! The irony is so rich it could pay off my student loans from that CS degree that promised me a "balanced lifestyle."

The classic trolley problem, but make it git. You've got one innocent developer on the upper track and a whole team on the lower track. What's a responsible engineer to do? Run git rebase master of course! Plot twist: rebasing doesn't actually save anyone. It just rewrites history so that lone developer who was safe on the upper track now gets yeeted to the lower track with everyone else. The team went from "we're all gonna die together" to "we're STILL all gonna die together, but now with a cleaner commit history." The best part? That "Successfully rebased and updated ref" message is basically git's way of saying "I did what you asked, don't blame me for the consequences." Sure, your branch looks linear and beautiful now, but at what cost? At what cost?! Pro tip: This is why some teams have a strict "no rebase on shared branches" policy. Because one person's quest for a pristine git log can turn into everyone's merge conflict nightmare faster than you can say git reflog .

The heroic tale of saving an entire company from certain doom... by hitting git reset --hard HEAD~1 and pretending you're a genius. The corporate equivalent of turning it off and on again, but with more dramatic flair and a significantly larger bonus check.