Javascript Memes

Someone asks Flutter devs to explain their framework choice in 3 words. The top answer? "Not fucking JavaScript." But wait—they meant Java Script , not Java. Classic case of hating something so much you accidentally insult its distant cousin at the family reunion. Flutter uses Dart, which lets you avoid the npm dependency hell and the "works on my machine" lottery that comes with modern web frameworks. No bundlers, no transpilers, no questioning your life choices at 2 PM on a Tuesday. Just pure, compiled-to-native performance. The relief is palpable. The real joke? Java and JavaScript have about as much in common as car and carpet, yet both get blamed for everything wrong with software development. At least Flutter devs know which one they're running from.

Someone asked engineers to name every computer ever, and Richard took it literally . Instead of listing actual computer names, he wrote a loop that iterates through all computers and sets each one's name to "ever". Technically correct? Absolutely. Useful? Not even slightly. It's the classic malicious compliance meets literal interpretation. The spec said "name every computer ever" and by god, every computer is now named "ever". Requirements met, ticket closed, PR approved. Don't blame the engineer—blame whoever wrote that ambiguous spec without acceptance criteria. This is why we can't have nice things in software development. And why product managers wake up screaming at 3 AM.

The holy trinity of web development, depicted as three derpy dragons sharing one brain cell. HTML structures your content, CSS makes it pretty (or tries to), and JavaScript... well, JavaScript does whatever it wants and occasionally sets everything on fire. Together they form the three-headed beast that powers every webpage you've ever visited, looking absolutely ridiculous while doing it. The fact that they're drawn as goofy, tongue-out dragons instead of majestic creatures is probably the most accurate representation of frontend development ever created. Sure, they're powerful, but they're also chaotic, unpredictable, and somehow always causing problems when you least expect it.

Junior devs out here speedrunning the tech stack like it's a tutorial level. CSS? Barely touched it. JavaScript? Still figuring out what "this" means. React? Sure, why not. PHP and Laravel? Installed but never opened. DSA? That's just a fancy acronym they saw on LinkedIn. And ChatGPT at the top? Yeah, that's doing the actual heavy lifting while they're three steps behind wondering why their div won't center. The progression is backwards and they're skipping fundamentals faster than a bootcamp graduate updates their resume to "Full Stack Engineer." CSS is still crying in the corner asking to be learned properly.

Dracula fears the sun, Superman runs from kryptonite, but developers? They cower in absolute TERROR before the almighty EU regulations. GDPR, cookie banners, data protection laws, digital services acts—it's like the final boss that just keeps spawning more health bars. You thought shipping your app was hard? Try doing it while navigating a legal labyrinth that makes your spaghetti code look organized. Nothing strikes fear into a dev team quite like the words "we need to be EU compliant before launch." Suddenly that release date gets pushed back faster than you can say "legitimate interest."

LinkedIn influencers really woke up and chose violence by placing Python in the "high performance" category. That's like calling a minivan a sports car because it has wheels. JavaScript sitting comfortably in low performance is the only honest thing about this chart. The real comedy gold here is that this person is a "Compiler & Toolchain Engineer" who apparently doesn't understand that popularity and performance have zero correlation. It's giving "I made a chart in 5 minutes to farm engagement" energy. And judging by those 32 comments, the strategy worked—probably filled with C++ devs having aneurysms and Python devs writing essays about how "performance doesn't matter for most use cases." LinkedIn: where technical accuracy goes to die, but engagement metrics thrive.

We've gone from "npm install takes 5 minutes" to "npm install takes 5 minutes plus a commercial break." The dystopian future where even your package manager is monetized with unskippable ads before you can download your 47 dependencies for a hello world app. Imagine sitting there, desperately needing to install Express, but first you gotta watch ads for NordVPN, Raid Shadow Legends, and probably another JavaScript framework that'll be deprecated by next Tuesday. The character's dead-inside expression? That's every developer in 2030 realizing they need to subscribe to "npm Premium" just to skip ads on lodash. At least we'll finally have time to read the package documentation while waiting. Oh wait, who are we kidding—nobody reads those anyway.

Rust developers get to import dependencies with names that sound like ancient Greek warriors: axum, leptos, tokio, dioxus. Meanwhile React Native devs are stuck typing @react-native-camera-roll/camera-roll like they're navigating a corporate directory structure designed by a committee that hates joy. The scoped packages with their forward slashes and redundant naming conventions read like someone's having an identity crisis. "Yes, I'm react-native-firebase, but also I live in the @react-native-firebase namespace, and my actual name is /app, nice to meet you." Every import statement becomes a novel. Rust said "one word" and moved on with their life.

The dev ecosystem has reached peak saturation: someone complains about seeing yet another "vibe coded habit tracker" post, and literally the next post is someone proudly announcing their... monthly budgeting web app. Because apparently the world was desperately missing its 47,000th budget tracker built by someone who just discovered React last week. The irony is chef's kiss—dude's swimming in pennies from all these repetitive side projects flooding his feed, and the universe immediately proves him right. It's like complaining about seeing too many "I built a to-do app" posts and then BAM, someone shows up with their revolutionary to-do app that's "different" because it has dark mode. Pro tip: If your side project solves a problem that Google Sheets already handles, maybe reconsider. Or don't—the penny factory needs workers.

So Archive.Today decided to weaponize their visitors' browsers into an involuntary botnet. That circled code at the bottom? Pure chaos. They're using setInterval to repeatedly fire off fetch requests to gyrovague.com with randomized query parameters every 300ms. Classic DDoS-as-a-Service, except the "service" is mandatory for anyone trying to access their site. The beautiful irony? Archive sites exist to preserve content and protect against censorship, yet here they are literally trying to nuke someone's blog off the internet by turning every visitor into an unwitting attack vector. It's like a library burning down another library using its patrons as arsonists. Also notice the Cloudflare CAPTCHA at the top? They're hiding behind DDoS protection while simultaneously launching DDoS attacks. The hypocrisy is *chef's kiss*. That's some next-level "I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me" energy.

When your code is so optimized that it becomes a UX problem. The Carfax devs built a report generator that could crunch data in under 10ms, but users were convinced it was fake because "nothing that fast can be real." So the frontend team literally added a fake loading bar with random delays to make it feel more legitimate. This is peak software development: spending years optimizing performance, only to artificially slow it down because humans have been conditioned by decades of slow software to distrust anything that actually works well. We've trained users to equate "slow = working hard" and "fast = probably broken." The fact that this fake progress bar is allegedly still in production today is *chef's kiss*. Somewhere in that codebase is a setTimeout() that exists purely for psychological reasons. That's not technical debt—that's emotional support code.

When someone asks "Is it JavaScript or Python?" and the dev responds "I actually didn't write much code - just prompting" you know we've officially entered the AI era of programming. The follow-up comment "So is it javascript or python? Jesus fucking christ" is the collective frustration of every traditional developer watching their craft get reduced to chatting with an LLM. This is the new reality: devs are now prompt engineers who vibe-coded a rage/timing game by basically having a conversation with AI. The confusion about which language was even used is *chef's kiss* because it doesn't matter anymore - the AI wrote it all. Meanwhile, seasoned developers are having an existential crisis trying to figure out what stack was used while the prompt jockey is already shipping features. Welcome to 2024, where "I can code" means "I can write a really good sentence."