Don't Do It Jarvis

The natural evolution of a programmer's code sources, illustrated with perfect animal metaphors. Your journey begins with "some random blog" (scrawny rat) for those desperate 2AM solutions. Then you graduate to GitHub (slightly more respectable dog) where at least someone reviewed the code. Stack Overflow (fat rat) is where you go when you're truly desperate - bloated with answers but somehow still works. And finally, "my code" - that weird hybrid creature that somehow functions despite looking like it was assembled from spare parts at 4AM after 6 energy drinks. It's not pretty, but it walks! Ship it to production!

You spend days crafting a pull request, refactoring everything, writing tests, adding documentation, making it absolutely beautiful. Then some bot rolls up and says "Full of AI slop, completely unhelpful" and you just... lose it. The real gut punch? Half the time the bot is right. With AI code generators flooding repos with generic solutions and copy-paste answers, human-written code is starting to look suspiciously similar to GPT's homework. We've reached the point where genuine effort gets flagged as synthetic garbage while actual AI slop sneaks through because it happened to use the right buzzwords. The Turing test has officially reversed: now we have to prove we're NOT robots.

The quintessential developer evolution captured in one perfect meme! Junior devs frantically try to memorize what every line of their code actually does, while senior devs have transcended to a higher plane of existence where they just... don't. After years of typing git commit -m "fix stuff" and console.log('why god why') , you eventually reach the zen-like state where your fingers write code your brain doesn't even fully comprehend anymore. The code works? Ship it! Documentation? That's what comments were invented for (that you'll never actually write).

Ah, the legendary GitHub pull request to rewrite Twitter in COBOL! For the uninitiated, COBOL is a programming language from the 1950s that's still running critical banking systems and government infrastructure, but about as suited for modern social media as a steam engine is for space travel. The satirical PR suggestion is pure comedy gold—imagine handling Twitter's real-time feeds and media processing with a language designed when computers took up entire rooms and "memory" meant physical punch cards! The 17 thumbs-up reactions show there are plenty of developers with a sense of humor (or masochistic tendencies). Meanwhile, somewhere a mainframe administrator is breaking into a cold sweat thinking about the 400-column code needed just to display a single tweet.

The modern developer's balancing act, visualized with stunning accuracy. That precarious tower of cans represents what's actually holding up your code—a foundation of ChatGPT at the bottom (let's be honest, it's writing half your functions), Google searches above it (for the errors ChatGPT creates), followed by pure dumb luck, ancient GitHub repositories you found at 3 AM, and tutorial videos from that one Indian guy who explains algorithms better than your $200K computer science degree. And finally, at the very top, desperately balancing on this tower of digital desperation? Your actual code—looking just as confused as that dog wondering how it got up there and how long before the whole thing collapses during the next sprint review.

DARLING, I'm not just a developer, I'm a PROFESSIONAL PROCRASTINATOR with a LICENSE TO DISAPPOINT! 💅 Zero commits? Zero closed PRs? But SEVEN open user stories after the sprint?! The name's Bond. Unproductive Bond. My superpower is making it look like I'm working while accomplishing absolutely NOTHING. My sprint velocity is so negative it's breaking the laws of physics! Management still thinks I'm some kind of coding superhero when in reality I'm just playing Minesweeper in a terminal window. THE AUDACITY! THE DRAMA! THE COMPLETE LACK OF PRODUCTIVITY!