Gut Hib

Top panel: Blissful ignorance. You commit your code thinking you've solved everything. Middle panel: Reality check begins. QA finds those edge cases you conveniently forgot existed. Bottom panel: Full existential dread. DevOps messages you at 2AM about the production server that's now somehow mining cryptocurrency in Paraguay. The three stages of deployment grief. No developer has ever experienced the mythical fourth panel: "Everything worked perfectly."

The sacred emergency protocol for developers! When flames engulf your workspace, priorities must be established: first, git commit those precious changes you've been working on for the last 4 hours. Then git push to ensure your code survives even if you don't. Only THEN should you consider the trivial matter of personal safety by leaving the building. Because losing code is the real disaster - flesh heals, but that elegant solution to your recursion problem? Irreplaceable.

OH. MY. GOD. The AUDACITY of mentioning you're an open source developer on a date and expecting anyone to stick around! 💀 The second panel's empty chair is the ULTIMATE ghosting move. Like, honey, did you really think announcing your unpaid coding hobby would make someone swoon? Next time just say you're unemployed - it's basically the same thing but sounds less pretentious! The dating pool just EVAPORATED faster than RAM in a memory leak!

Blind as a bat when reviewing your own code, but suddenly equipped with NASA-grade telescope vision when it's someone else's mess. Nothing quite like the supernatural ability to spot every single anti-pattern, security vulnerability, and poorly named variable in code you didn't write, while your own masterpiece—complete with commented-out debug statements from 2019 and that one function named temp_fix_delete_later_v4 —somehow looks flawless. The real code review superpower isn't finding bugs, it's the selective blindness we develop for our own crimes against computing.

OMG, the EVOLUTION of code ownership in three acts of pure DRAMA! 🎭 Act I: Designers having an absolute MELTDOWN over similar ideas. One's all smug while the other is literally CRYING TEARS OF RAGE! The audacity! Act II: Programmers being utterly UNBOTHERED. "I stole your code" meets "It's not my code" with the emotional investment of discussing yesterday's weather. The NONCHALANCE is killing me! Act III: GitHub users achieving PEAK ENLIGHTENMENT. Not only is stealing acknowledged, it's THANKED FOR! This is the digital equivalent of someone breaking into your house and you offering them tea for reorganizing your furniture! Welcome to open source, where your precious code belongs to EVERYONE and nobody simultaneously. What's mine is yours and what's yours is... forked.

The shirt parodies the "Breaking Bad" TV show logo but replaces it with "Breaking Prod" - complete with element symbols Br (Bromine, atomic number 35) and Pr (Praseodymium, atomic number 59). For devs who deploy on Friday, this is basically your hazmat suit. Nothing says "I'm about to introduce catastrophic bugs into the production environment right before the weekend" quite like wearing your criminal intent as fashion. The perfect attire for that 4:55 PM git push that'll have the on-call engineer questioning their career choices at 2 AM.