Github Follower

You know that moment when you're reviewing someone's PR and you're mentally composing a scathing code review about how their implementation violates every principle you hold dear? But then reality kicks in—you remember your own code from last Tuesday that looks suspiciously similar, or you realize you're already 45 minutes late for standup, or you just... can't be bothered to start a philosophical debate about variable naming conventions. So you shrug, click approve, and move on with your life. We've all been that person judging the code AND the person who wrote the questionable code. It's the circle of life in software development.

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.

Ah, the modern tech job posting—where companies want a single developer with the skills of seventeen specialists working for the price of one junior. The guy nails it perfectly. When recruiters list every technology under the sun—from three programming languages to multiple frameworks, databases, cloud services, DevOps tools, and system administration—they're basically asking for a unicorn who can replace their entire engineering team. After 15 years in the industry, I've seen job descriptions evolve from "Java developer" to "technical demigod who can single-handedly build, deploy, and maintain the entire digital infrastructure of a Fortune 500 company while also making coffee." And the best part? They'll still call it "entry-level" and offer you exposure instead of a proper salary.

Opening that GitHub repo after half a year feels like deep-sea archaeology. The code is some ancient artifact, buried under 3775.6 meters of mental context you've completely forgotten. You stare at your own comments thinking "What kind of sleep-deprived maniac wrote this?" before realizing it was you, at 2AM, fueled by energy drinks and misplaced confidence. The worst part? That brilliant architecture you were so proud of now looks like someone let a neural network write code after training it exclusively on Stack Overflow answers from 2011.

OH. MY. GOD. Someone left their Git commands in the production UI! 😱 The absolute HORROR of seeing <<<<<<< HEAD and >>>>>>> master splashed across a payment page like some kind of digital crime scene! That poor utility bill of $176.12 is now trapped in merge conflict purgatory until 2025! Whoever pushed this code straight to production without resolving their conflicts is about to experience the most dramatic performance review in corporate history. Their career is flatlining harder than that payment system!

Anthropic drops a billion on Bum (probably some AI startup or acqui-hire), meanwhile someone just casually hits that fork button on GitHub and gets the exact same codebase for the low, low price of absolutely nothing. Open source licensing is basically the ultimate "right-click, save as" for entire companies. The best part? They're both technically legal moves. One guy's burning VC money like it's going out of style, the other's just... using git as intended. That's the beauty and chaos of open source—your billion-dollar acquisition is literally one git clone away from being commoditized.