Small Commits Are For Cowards

Who needs romance when you've got abandoned projects, right? Nothing quite like the desperate midnight hunt through your GitHub graveyard looking for that one function you wrote 6 months ago. "I know I solved this exact problem before!" *frantically scrolls through 47 half-finished repos* The ultimate programmer relationship status: committed to nothing except finding that one piece of code you were "totally going to document later."

Someone named Devin on the team got fired, and the devs decided to immortalize the moment by removing the @ts-expect-error comment that was basically saying "yeah TypeScript will yell at you here, but trust me bro, it works." The deleted comment is pure gold though: "DEVIN, STOP REMOVING THIS LINE YOU DUMBASS, YES TYPESCRIPT DOES THROW AN ERROR IF YOU DON'T HAVE IT, NO THIS IS NOT 'UNUSED', AND YES YOU HAVE BROKEN OUR CI PIPELINE EVERY TIME YOU DO IT" You can almost feel the rage of whoever wrote that after Devin broke the build for the third time in a week. Poor Devin probably thought they were being helpful by "cleaning up unused code" without understanding what @ts-expect-error actually does. Now that Devin's gone, the comment can finally be removed... because there's no one left to keep removing it. RIP to the CI pipeline's most frequent visitor.

The perfect illustration of code documentation in the wild! That empty diagram labeled "How programmers comment their code" is painfully accurate. We all start our projects with grand intentions of detailed comments, then reality hits and suddenly it's just blank spaces and cryptic symbols. The most documented part of any codebase is usually that one function written at 3 AM that no one remembers writing. Future you will definitely understand what that single-letter variable does six months from now, right? Trust me, even senior devs with 15 years of experience are looking at this and nervously laughing while avoiding eye contact with their Git history.

The classic "I'm done with my work" delusion that haunts every developer. First panel: the blissful ignorance of pushing code and declaring victory. Second panel: QA bursts your bubble with a flood of "it doesn't work on my machine" messages. Third panel: the final boss appears - DevOps sliding into your DMs with that special horror reserved for production environment issues. The face progressively darkening perfectly captures that sinking feeling when you realize your Friday evening plans just evaporated into debugging sessions.

GitHub's savage billboard burns us all to a crisp with brutal honesty. They trained their AI Copilot on our garbage code, then have the audacity to hang a building-sized sign explaining why their tool produces questionable results. It's like blaming the student for the teacher's incompetence—except we're the incompetent teachers. The ultimate "it's not me, it's you" breakup line from the tech world. Next time your PR gets rejected, just point at this billboard and say "not my fault, I'm just a product of my environment."

Ah yes, modern gaming in a nutshell! A massive bear labeled "NEW AAA GAMES" requiring a nuclear-powered rig with "RTX 5090, AMD RX 7900, 64GB RAM, 1TB SSD" just to launch the title screen. Meanwhile, the humble wolf "DOOM 1993" runs perfectly on a calculator with "CPU, GPU (OPTIONAL)" specs. The real joke? That GitHub Actions workflow is gonna time out before your AAA game even finishes downloading the shader cache. Meanwhile, DOOM is probably already running on your CI/CD pipeline's error logs.