Unemployed Developer's GitHub

Ah, the sweet smell of kernel development in the morning... and it smells like Linus Torvalds roasting everyone in his path. This legendary email showcases why Linux kernel developers check their code 17 times before submitting anything. Nothing says "code review" quite like being told your work makes you smell worse than a hamster. The best part? That magnificent sign-off: "bow down before me, you scum" - the original mic drop before mic drops were cool. The man created Git just so he could tell people they're wrong more efficiently.

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.

The stack of support holding up our broken code is too real! Your janky codebase is somehow balanced on a precarious tower of AI suggestions, desperate Google searches, StackOverflow copy-pasta, that one tutorial from an Indian guy with 240p video quality but god-tier explanations, ancient Git repositories nobody's touched since 2013, and pure dumb luck. The dog (your code) has absolutely no business standing on that wobbly pile, yet somehow it works! Every developer knows that touching ANY part of this fragile ecosystem might send the whole thing crashing down. The compiler isn't impressed, but hey—ship it anyway!

The AUDACITY of GitHub! First they're like "Enter your password, peasant" and then IMMEDIATELY after you type it in, they hit you with "Actually, passwords are SO last season, darling. Create an access token instead." 💅 It's like inviting someone to a formal dinner party, waiting until they show up in a tuxedo, and then announcing "Sorry, we're actually doing swimwear only now!" The DRAMA! The BETRAYAL! The unnecessary authentication hoops we jump through just to push our mediocre code!

That moment when your access to the company's GitHub repo gets revoked before HR even tells you you're fired. Nothing says "your services are no longer required" quite like git pushing you out of the organization! The digital equivalent of finding your desk contents in a cardboard box. Bonus anxiety: frantically checking if you committed that side project code before losing access forever.

Git renamed the default branch from "master" to "main" a few years back for inclusivity reasons, and the tech world collectively nodded in approval. But developers? We're creatures of muscle memory and habit. After typing "git checkout master" for a decade, suddenly switching to "main" feels like learning to write with your other hand. But "_start"? Now that's the real winner here. It's got that raw, unfiltered energy of someone who just wants to get stuff done without getting tangled in naming conventions. No politics, no legacy baggage—just pure, unapologetic functionality. Plus, it perfectly captures that "I'm starting fresh and I don't care about your conventions" vibe that every developer secretly wishes they could embrace. Honestly, "_start" sounds like what you'd name your branch at 2 PM on a Friday when you've already mentally checked out but still need to push that feature.