The GitHub Portfolio Reality Check

Junior developer: "How do I remember what my code does?" Senior developer: "That's the neat part. You don't." The true hallmark of experience isn't perfect memory—it's the calm acceptance that you'll inevitably forget everything you write. That's why we have comments, documentation, and git blame. The senior's mustache contains more wisdom than all of StackOverflow combined.

BEHOLD! The magnificent tower of horrors that is "stable code"! That rickety structure is hanging on by what can only be described as the digital equivalent of thoughts and prayers. One gentle breeze—or heaven forbid, ONE TINY COMMIT—and the whole catastrophe comes crashing down like my will to live during a merge conflict. The scaffolding of desperation around it is basically the programming equivalent of crossing your fingers while whispering "please work, please work" during deployment. We've all been there, frantically typing "git stash" when someone asks us to fix "just one small bug" in production. DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH IT—it works by pure magic and spite at this point!

That smug little face says it all. The cat (labeled "Cursor AI") sits there with that self-satisfied grin while staring at the waffle ("The code that broke production") like it's about to devour the evidence. Nothing quite matches the special feeling of watching your teammate's cursor float around the screen in real-time as they confidently add that one magical line of code that brings down the entire system. "Trust me, this will fix it!" they say, right before Slack explodes with alerts and your phone starts having a seizure with PagerDuty notifications. But of course, this "didn't happen at your company." Just like how nobody ever pushed to main on Friday at 4:55 PM.

When a developer thinks they're a Git wizard but hasn't quite mastered the dark arts... git push --force is basically the programming equivalent of saying "I know what I'm doing" right before catastrophe strikes. It's that command that overwrites remote history with your local changes, consequences be damned! The poor soul in this comic learned the hard way that Git doesn't come with an "undo apocalypse" button. One minute you're confidently force-pushing changes, the next you've erased months of your colleagues' work and suddenly everyone's Slack status changes to "contemplating violence." And just like that bike crash, there's no graceful recovery from nuking your team's repository. You just lie there, contemplating your career choices while frantically Googling "how to restore git history please help urgent!!!"

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.

Oh sweet merciful code gods! 💀 This chat is the EPITOME of workplace betrayal! Your colleague just threw you under the bus so hard you've got tire marks on your soul! That commit message... I'm DYING. "Added three components, deleted that extra feature was not needed, deleted it, still need to finish that bug from a month ago." ZERO INFORMATION. It's like writing "I did stuff" on your timesheet! And that final "YOLO" is the digital equivalent of setting the repository on fire and walking away in slow motion without looking back. The absolute AUDACITY! This is why we can't have nice things in software development! 🔥