Git Push --Force

The evolution of trust in software development: Regular Pooh: Not sharing code at all. Suspicious. Probably hiding something terrible. Fancy Pooh: Publishing source code. Ah, a developer of culture and transparency. Demonic Pooh: Creating a GitHub repo with just an executable. The digital equivalent of saying "here's a mysterious candy, stranger, just put it in your mouth."

Every open-source developer the moment someone forks their repo with zero stars. "That's it, I've made it! Someone actually thought my code was worth copying! Time to update the LinkedIn profile to 'Influential Developer' and start charging for consultation." Meanwhile, it was probably just some poor soul who clicked the wrong button or forked it to fix that one glaring typo in the README.

Ah, the prehistoric era of 2004, when "version control" meant keeping folders named "project_final", "project_final_v2", and "project_final_ACTUALLY_FINAL_I_SWEAR". This poor soul just discovered that a single cursor operation can obliterate four months of work because apparently saving multiple copies across 17 flash drives wasn't enough. The real tragedy? They're asking how to back up their work after the digital apocalypse. It's like asking about fire safety while your house is already ash.

The first comment: "When I do git blame, it's not about finding the person who did the mistake. I want to find out when the code was added, which task it was related to, and if I need more details, the person who wrote the code." The reply: "I use git blame just to make sure it wasn't me before I go on a tirade..." Ah yes, the two types of developers. The professional who uses tools for their intended purpose, and the rest of us who just want plausible deniability before ranting in Slack. Nothing quite like that moment of relief when you discover someone else wrote that abomination, followed by the crushing realization it was actually you from three years ago.

Ah, the sacred text of professional groveling. This is the comprehensive collection of phrases every developer keeps in a text file for when they realize they've been arguing about a bug for 45 minutes only to discover they forgot a semicolon. These aren't just apologies—they're survival tools. Copy-paste these into Slack after your senior dev points out you've been using the wrong API endpoint for three weeks and watch as your performance review magically improves from "concerning" to "shows potential." The best part? After 10 years in the industry, you'll develop the ability to sound genuinely contrite while simultaneously rolling your eyes so hard you can see your own brain.

The ultimate taboo questions revealed! While society warns against asking women their age or men their salary, the true forbidden knowledge is asking a developer what their cryptic commit messages actually mean. "Fixed stuff" at 3 AM? "Minor tweaks" that rewrote the entire authentication system? That vibe coder with headphones and sunglasses knows exactly what chaos they unleashed with "small refactor" - a complete architectural overhaul that somehow both fixed and created 17 new bugs simultaneously. The git history never lies, but the commit messages absolutely do!