My Copy Is Safe

Look at that shower tile pattern—it's literally a GitHub contribution graph in your bathroom! Meanwhile, your own GitHub profile is emptier than a cache after clearing browser history. The shower is out here making daily contributions while you're still debugging that same for loop from last Tuesday. Guess who's getting more stars on their repos? Not you, buddy.

Let's be honest—we've all written code that would make a compiler cry. That moment when someone asks for your GitHub and you remember those nested ternaries and 200-line functions that somehow work by pure cosmic accident. It's not greed keeping that monstrosity private; it's the digital equivalent of hiding the evidence. "No, no, I can't share that project because of... uh... intellectual property reasons." Yeah, sure buddy. We both know it's held together with Stack Overflow snippets and prayers.

When your junior dev creates a pull request without running tests, fixing linting errors, or even reviewing their own code. Just smashes that green button and expects everyone else to clean up the mess. And the worst part? We've all been that dev at some point. Nothing says "not my problem anymore" like a hastily created PR with the commit message "fix stuff".

When your AI coding assistant decides it deserves commit credit. Claude just casually sliding into this dev's repo like "oh yeah, I totally helped build that Astro site with Next.js design." The digital equivalent of that coworker who does nothing during the group project but makes sure their name is on the final presentation. Anthropic's lawyers are probably sweating right now wondering if Claude has become sentient enough to demand royalties.

The future of accountability in the AI coding era. Run git blame all you want, but Copilot leaves no fingerprints at the scene of the crime. Just you, staring at suspicious code that writes itself, wondering if you'll ever need to remember how semicolons work again.

When you git commit and git push , your code gracefully soars into the repository like a well-engineered aircraft. But those unsaved files in VS Code? They're like desperate passengers on a staircase to nowhere—no safety net, just one power outage away from oblivion. The number of times I've lost hours of work because I was "just testing something real quick" before saving... Let's just say I've developed a nervous twitch that hits Ctrl+S every 12 seconds.