Do You Even Remember How To Code

That moment of horrified recognition when you excavate ancient code from your digital crypt. "Who wrote this abomination? Oh wait... it was me." The psychological journey from confidence to shame happens in milliseconds as you stare at variable names like 'temp1', 'finalFinalVersion', and comments promising to "fix this later." Your past self has left landmines of technical debt that your present self must now defuse while questioning every life decision that led to this moment.

The quiet, reserved programmer who barely speaks during client meetings suddenly transforms into a feral beast when surrounded by fellow code monkeys. Nothing unleashes the inner wolf like debating tabs vs spaces or why someone committed directly to main. The facade of professionalism crumbles faster than a production server during a demo when you're among your own kind. Non-technical folks think we're shy introverts, but they've never witnessed the bloodbath of a code review where someone used nested ternaries.

Who needs proper branching strategies when you can just dump everything into one glorious commit? The top shows a complex git branch workflow with multiple feature branches merging together - you know, what they teach in those fancy "best practices" courses. Meanwhile, the bottom shows what we actually do: one straight line of commits because who has time for that organized nonsense? Nothing says "I'll fix it in production" quite like bypassing code reviews and merging directly to main. Git blame? More like git shame.

The joke here is so absurd it's brilliant. Someone's claiming Git, JavaScript, and Microsoft BASIC were all created in a week, and therefore are "perfect software." Meanwhile, the three-headed dragon meme shows the reality: they're all monsters, with JavaScript being the derpy one. For those who've spent years battling Git's cryptic error messages, JavaScript's "undefined is not a function" nightmares, or BASIC's spaghetti code limitations, this is pure comedy gold. These tools took years to develop and are still far from perfect. The date stamp of 2025 is just the cherry on top of this satire sundae. It's the software development equivalent of claiming you can build the Golden Gate Bridge with popsicle sticks over a weekend.

When a senior dev asks if you wrote code without comments, you know you're about to face a military tribunal-level interrogation. The look of utter disbelief followed by immediate sentencing is just *chef's kiss*. Submitting uncommented code to review is basically a declaration of war against your fellow developers. Future maintainers will be excavating your logic like archaeologists trying to decipher hieroglyphics without a Rosetta Stone. Remember folks, code tells the computer what to do, but comments tell other humans why you did it that way. Skip them at your peril!

Imagine building the Great Pyramids without being able to git checkout -b new-pharaoh-idea . Those poor ancient devs had to drag 2-ton stone blocks around with zero rollback capability. One architect accidentally puts a block in the wrong place and it's like "Well, guess we're stuck with that bug in production for the next 4,500 years." No wonder they carved hieroglyphics everywhere—that was literally their commit log. "Added another pointy layer, please don't touch, signed ~Imhotep."