We Did A Little Bit Of Branch Fuckery

GitHub sits there looking all professional and composed with its version control and CI/CD pipelines. StackOverflow is giving you that knowing smirk because it's seen every cursed question you've ever asked at 3 AM. And then there's your actual code—a beautiful disaster that somehow combines the worst parts of both copy-pasted solutions from SO and those "temporary" commits you swore you'd clean up before pushing to main. The real horror is that your codebase is literally a Frankenstein's monster stitched together from Stack Overflow answers, each solving one specific problem but creating three new ones when combined. GitHub hosts it with a straight face while StackOverflow keeps providing the organs for your creation. Meanwhile, your code is just vibing in production, held together by duct tape, prayer, and that one function nobody dares to refactor because "if it works, don't touch it."

Prison interrogation scene but make it Git security theater! The tiny dev confesses to replacing Latin letters with Cyrillic lookalikes to bypass Git commit verification and push code using their boss's identity. It's that classic security exploit where "paypal.com" and "pаypal.com" look identical but the second one has a Cyrillic 'а'. The perfect crime for when you need to blame production bugs on someone with a corner office. Commit signature verification? More like commit signature suggestion .

Microsoft's product strategy in a nutshell: throw everything at the wall, see what sticks, then pretend the blood puddles were part of the plan all along. Windows Phone? Dead. Skype? Somehow still technically alive but nobody's checking for a pulse. Windows 10? They promised it would be the "last version of Windows" then immediately started working on Windows 11. Meanwhile GitHub is just chilling in the corner, the golden child acquisition that actually worked out. Probably because Microsoft learned their lesson: buy successful things and don't touch them too much. Revolutionary strategy, really. The "EEE" reference is *chef's kiss* - that's "Embrace, Extend, Extinguish," Microsoft's infamous strategy from the 90s where they'd adopt open standards, add proprietary features, then kill the competition. Now they're just extinguishing their own products. Character development, I guess?

Nothing says "I have my life together" quite like enthusiastically grabbing a shiny new project while standing on a mountain of abandoned repos. The excited kid reaching for the new project while literally drowning in unfinished work? That's not a meme, that's a documentary. You know what's wild? We convince ourselves this time will be different. This new framework, this side project, this rewrite—it's gonna be THE ONE. Meanwhile, your GitHub is a graveyard of "TODO: Add tests" commits from 2019. But hey, that new JavaScript framework that just dropped looks really promising, right? The real skill isn't finishing projects—it's justifying why starting another one is actually a strategic career move. "I'm learning the ecosystem," you say, as your 47th tutorial project joins the others in the void.

You spend months crafting your code, push it to GitHub, and then... silence. Complete radio silence. Until that fateful day when someone creates an issue about something completely unrelated to your code's actual purpose. It's like inviting people to your house and the only feedback you get is "your doorbell is slightly off-center." Thanks for noticing the 2,000 lines of meticulously documented code though!

The silent war between developers in a shared repository is brutal. One minute you're proudly displaying your "Days Since Our Last Incident" counter, and the next minute your coworker executes the nuclear option: git rm -rf <repo> followed by git clone <repo> . That's not version control—that's version annihilation . It's the coding equivalent of "have you tried turning it off and on again?" but with a side of existential dread as you watch your commit history potentially vanish into the void. The look of betrayal in the first panel versus the cold, merciless expression in the second panel perfectly captures the emotional damage of repository scorched-earth tactics.