Semantic Versioning Is Hard

Behold the sacred gender symbols of our time! Female? Simple. Male? Basic. But a PROGRAMMER ? Honey, that's a whole different species with arrows pointing in MULTIPLE directions simultaneously while juggling a USB stick! Because why commit to just ONE path when you can have 17 git branches, 42 browser tabs, and an existential crisis before lunch? The programmer gender doesn't just multitask—it multi-EXISTS in parallel universes where both solutions work and fail at the same time. Schrödinger's code, darling!

The eternal developer pilgrimage, perfectly captured! This is what happens when you just want to fix that one tiny bug, but the internet has other plans. That comically long printout represents the soul-crushing journey every programmer takes when searching for answers. You start with such hope on Stack Overflow, only to be sent through a labyrinth of outdated links, abandoned GitHub repos, and eventually to some ancient YouTube tutorial where a teenager with a terrible microphone mumbles the solution while Linkin Park plays in the background. The best part? After this entire odyssey, you'll probably just end up using a completely different approach anyway. It's like the programming equivalent of those "you had the power inside you all along" movies, except with more crying and energy drinks.

The sweet bliss of chaos delegation! Nothing says "not my problem anymore" like pushing an 8000-line code monstrosity to GitHub and immediately entering hibernation mode. Your colleagues will wake up to that absolute unit of a pull request while you're dreaming peacefully, completely disconnected from the impending code review apocalypse. The perfect crime doesn't exi— Meanwhile, when someone else does this to you, it's suddenly a war crime worthy of The Hague. Funny how that works.

Trust me, that cat isn't offering debugging help - it's plotting to introduce new bugs. Those wide eyes aren't curiosity, they're calculating exactly how many semicolons to delete from your codebase while you're getting coffee. The sign might say "don't let the cat out," but what it should really say is "don't let the cat near your Git repository." That innocent "I will debug your code" note is the feline equivalent of a phishing scam. Next thing you know, you'll have 47 merge conflicts and your production server will be mining cryptocurrency for Fancy Feast.

Open source maintainers having to explicitly tell contributors not to add malware is like telling a fox not to eat your chickens. That single bullet point in the contribution guide is doing some heavy lifting—as if malicious actors read documentation and go "oh darn, guess I'll have to find another repo to corrupt." The desperate plea of "Please do not add malware" has the same energy as Dora telling Swiper not to swipe. Spoiler alert: Swiper's gonna swipe anyway.

The eternal cycle of side project enthusiasm. Top panel: Day 1, euphoric excitement, telling everyone how revolutionary your idea is and how you'll finish it in a weekend. Bottom panel: Day 3, staring blankly at your terminal as you realize you've created an unholy abomination of dependencies that would make Cthulhu weep. That API key commit to main branch? Chef's kiss of despair. The only thing growing faster than your git commit messages is your collection of Stack Overflow tabs.