Chad Contributes To Github

Watching someone print out code for review is like witnessing a crime against modern development practices. In 2023? SERIOUSLY? That's 30+ pages of perfectly good trees sacrificed to the debugging gods when we have perfectly good monitors, version control, and code review tools. The confused Tom face perfectly captures that moment of "Did I just time travel back to 1995?" Nothing says "I don't trust Git" like killing forests to manually track changes with a red pen. Bonus horror: imagine them printing JavaScript with all those nested callbacks and dependencies!

When your teammate keeps submitting pull requests that just update the README.md file over and over again. Nothing says "I'm contributing!" quite like seven identical commits that add absolutely nothing of value. Meanwhile, the actual codebase is on fire, but hey, at least the documentation has another typo fixed! The best part? They'll probably list "Git expert" on their resume after this masterclass in version control.

The sweet taste of victory after Git warfare. That moment when you've spent 14 hours resolving merge conflicts across 10 branches spanning 3 repositories, each with its own unique naming convention and commit style. Your eyes are bloodshot, you've consumed dangerous amounts of caffeine, and your terminal history is just a long list of increasingly desperate git commands. And yet somehow—against all odds—the build passes, the tests run, and that glorious new version is now live in production. No alarms. No rollbacks. Just sweet, sweet redemption as you emerge from the trenches of version control hell. Time to take a shower. You've earned it.

Developers spent years mastering their craft, conquering segfaults, memory leaks, and production bugs without breaking a sweat. But then AI code assistants showed up, and suddenly that little green/red diff showing "+61,104 -780" lines becomes absolutely terrifying. Nothing strikes fear into a programmer's heart quite like an AI confidently refactoring your entire codebase in milliseconds. Sure, it removed 780 lines, but at what cost? What eldritch horrors lurk in those 61,104 new lines? Did it just replace your elegant algorithm with 60,000 lines of nested if statements? The real nightmare isn't that AI will replace us—it's that we have to review its pull requests.

Designers will fight to the death over who thought of rounded corners first. Programmers? We've all copy-pasted from Stack Overflow so much that code ownership is basically a philosophical debate at this point. And GitHub users have evolved past shame entirely—stealing code isn't theft, it's "collaboration" and "open source contribution." Fork it, slap your name on the README, call it a day. The real power move is when someone forks your repo, makes zero changes, and somehow gets more stars than you.

Ah, the infamous --force flag. The digital equivalent of "hold my beer and watch this." Tom and Jerry covering their eyes perfectly captures that moment when you override Git's safety mechanisms and push directly to main. You know it's wrong. Your team knows it's wrong. But deadlines, am I right? The best part is that split second after hitting Enter where you're simultaneously hoping nothing breaks while mentally drafting your resignation letter. It's that special flavor of developer recklessness that separates the cowboys from the professionals. And yet, we've all been there at least once.