Git Explained: The Ryanair Edition

The most satisfying commit message you'll ever write: "Deleted 2,000 lines of legacy code." Somehow removing code feels more productive than writing it. The real 10x developers aren't the ones cranking out features—they're the ones brave enough to hit delete on that monstrosity everyone's been afraid to touch since 2017. Negative lines of code should be on your performance review.

Oh. My. GOD! The absolute DRAMA of it all! Microsoft proudly announces that 30% of their code is now AI-generated, and then BOOM! 💥 Git operations are failing EVERYWHERE! It's like watching a corporate horror movie unfold in real-time! The grim reaper couldn't have timed his entrance better! One minute they're bragging about AI writing their code, and the next minute their Git operations are having an existential crisis. Coincidence? I think NOT! This is what happens when you replace human developers with AI that learned to code by copying StackOverflow answers without reading the comments! Reset the counter indeed—we've gone exactly ZERO days without a Microsoft AI disaster. The skeleton is all of us watching our repositories crumble while Microsoft's PR team frantically tries to explain that AI definitely wasn't responsible for this catastrophe. Sure, Jan. 🙄

Ah, the inevitable collision of serious software development and internet naming conventions. Someone actually suggested naming Git LFS (Large File Storage) as "Filey McFileface" in an official GitHub issue, and it got 170 upvotes! This is peak developer culture—naming critical infrastructure after the infamous "Boaty McBoatface" incident where the internet was asked to name a research vessel. Engineers can't resist an opportunity to inject absurdity into otherwise serious technical discussions. The real miracle is that Git LFS wasn't actually named this. Somewhere, a product manager is still having nightmares about it.

GitHub's savage billboard burns us all to a crisp with brutal honesty. They trained their AI Copilot on our garbage code, then have the audacity to hang a building-sized sign explaining why their tool produces questionable results. It's like blaming the student for the teacher's incompetence—except we're the incompetent teachers. The ultimate "it's not me, it's you" breakup line from the tech world. Next time your PR gets rejected, just point at this billboard and say "not my fault, I'm just a product of my environment."

The ultimate manifestation of programmer desperation: slapping a crying cat meme on your car begging for code review approvals. When your pull requests have been sitting in limbo for so long that you've resorted to vehicular advertising. That sad little "just let me merge pls" hits different when you've been waiting three days for Chad from backend to stop "getting to it later." Next level: hiring skywriters to beg senior devs to approve your commits.

The sacred rule of Git: force pushing is like playing with explosives. On your own feature branch? Sure, blow it up, it's your mess to clean. But on master? You've just committed the cardinal sin of version control. That -f flag might as well stand for "future regret" when you obliterate everyone else's work with your divine intervention. Nothing says "I'm the captain now" quite like rewriting shared history without consent. Pro tip: Want to make enemies at work? Force push to master on Friday at 4:55 PM and turn off Slack notifications.