Unemployed Developer's GitHub

The sacred order of debugging has been disturbed. For eons, the ancient pact dictated that StackOverflow shall appear first in search results, offering salvation with copy-pastable solutions. Now GitHub shows up first, forcing you to actually read code and understand what's happening. Truly the darkest timeline. Next thing you know, they'll expect us to write documentation.

The AUDACITY of these people! Your coworkers are just casually hitting that AI slop pull request button like it's a free candy dispenser while you're over here DYING inside! 😤 They're submitting code that was clearly written by ChatGPT's questionable cousin, with variable names like 'finalFinalActuallyFinalV2' and functions that look like they were written during a fever dream. But the worst part? You can't PROVE it! You're just sitting there, eye twitching, watching your git history become a graveyard of AI-generated monstrosities while management praises them for their "productivity." The betrayal! The horror! The absolute DRAMA of modern development!

Someone just turned Git into a fandom universe! 😂 This dev brilliantly reimagines version control as fan fiction terminology: repos = "fandoms" - your project's entire universe branches = "AUs" - alternate universes where your code takes different paths commits = "episodes" - each development milestone in your coding saga main = "canon" - the official, accepted storyline of your codebase rebase = "retcon" - retroactively changing history (and causing team drama) merge = "crossover" - when two storylines dramatically come together Next PR meeting: "So we need to crossover this AU with canon after we finish these episodes, but careful not to retcon what the other fandom is doing!"

Nothing quite captures that first production deployment like a puppy discovering mirrors. One minute you're admiring your beautiful code that passed all the tests, and the next you're frantically checking logs at 2AM wondering how your elegant solution is somehow bringing down the entire system. That moment when you realize the safety net of code reviews was actually more like a suggestion, and now your name is forever attached to that incident report. Welcome to the club, kid. We've all been there—staring at our reflections, questioning our career choices.

Oh honey, you sweet summer child recruiter. You think you're hiring ONE person? Bless your heart. You've basically listed the skill requirements for an entire Fortune 500 company's tech division and slapped "Full Stack Developer" on it like it's a cute little job title. Backend? Check. Frontend? Check. Three different databases because apparently one wasn't enough trauma? Check. The ENTIRE AWS ecosystem? Sure, why not! Oh and while we're at it, throw in system administration, containerization, orchestration, AND test-driven development because clearly this mythical unicorn developer has 47 hours in their day. The punchline hits different because it's TRUE. This isn't a job posting—it's a cry for help disguised as a LinkedIn post. They're not looking for a developer; they're looking for someone to BE the entire IT infrastructure while probably offering "competitive salary" (translation: $65k and unlimited coffee).

Someone just declared war on GitHub and the official GitHub account swooped in with the most passive-aggressive "please share the repo link bestie 👀" energy imaginable. It's giving "I dare you to actually build something better" vibes. The sheer confidence of GitHub basically saying "go ahead, we'll wait" while sitting on their throne of 100+ million repositories is CHEF'S KISS. They know nobody's replacing them anytime soon, and they're not even trying to hide it. The ratio of engagement on their reply? *Devastating*. GitHub really said "talk is cheap, show me the code" and the internet collectively lost it.