frontend Memes

Nothing screams "legacy codebase" quite like a footer that still says "© 2022" in the year 2025. The irony here is beautiful: a product claiming to solve the problem of outdated copyright years... while displaying an outdated copyright year in its own footer. It's like a fitness app with a broken step counter or a spell-checker with typos in its marketing. The real kicker? They're marketing this as "Product of the day 46th" while simultaneously proving they need their own product. Either they haven't launched yet, or they're running the most meta marketing campaign in history. Pro tip: if you're selling a solution to automatically update copyright years, maybe start by using it on your own site. Just a thought.

Someone woke up and chose violence against Electron apps, and honestly? They're spitting facts. The rant reads like a manifesto written by someone who just watched Slack consume 4GB of RAM to display text messages. The whole "webapps were not supposed to have life-altering effects" bit hits different when you realize we're literally running entire operating systems inside Chrome just to display a to-do list. We went from "write once, run anywhere" to "download 300MB just to check your email." And that Telnet joke? Chef's kiss. Because apparently wrapping a website in Chromium and calling it "native" is somehow more secure than protocols from the 70s. At least Telnet was honest about its lack of security. The kicker is the "REAL Web Development" gaslighting at the end. Yeah, building a 500MB Discord client that's just a glorified browser wrapper is definitely what Tim Berners-Lee envisioned when he invented the web. We've been played harder than a fiddle at a bluegrass festival.

Nothing says "professional business relationship" quite like ransomware-ing your own client's website. Developer delivered the site, client ghosted on payment from "Joseph Smith Furniture," so now the site's held hostage with a polite little message: "If you need access, pay me." It's the freelancer's nuclear option—turning the entire website into a payment reminder. Technically genius, legally questionable, morally in a gray area the size of a production server. Sure beats sending invoice reminders that get ignored for six months. Pro tip: contracts with kill switches are great until you're explaining to a judge why you implemented your own version of "pay-per-view" on someone's business site. But hey, at least the services were delivered.

Forget your fancy synthetic benchmarks and Crysis runs—the true test of any GPU's worth is whether it can render a photorealistic 3D rat at a smooth 165 FPS. Because nothing says "cutting-edge graphics performance" quite like a chonky rodent spinning in the void. Someone actually built this as a WebGL benchmark tool, and honestly? It's more entertaining than watching progress bars. Your $2000 RTX 4090 better be able to handle those fur shaders, or what's even the point? The rat judges all. The top-left corner shows a glorious 165 FPS at 165 Hz—clearly running on hardware that respects the rat. If your machine can't handle the bigrat, maybe it's time to upgrade. Or just accept that you'll be stuck at 30 FPS looking at a slightly less majestic rodent.

When your cafe tries to be all fancy and tech-savvy with laser-etched brass QR codes but forgets the most basic rule of web development: actually having a server running. Those beautiful artisanal QR codes are pointing to localhost – which, for the non-technical folks reading this, means "my own computer" and definitely not "the cafe's menu website." Someone literally deployed their local development environment to production. Or more accurately, they didn't deploy anything at all. They just scanned their own computer while testing and permanently etched that URL into brass. That's commitment to the wrong thing. The cafe spent more money on metalwork than on a $5/month hosting plan. Chef's kiss of irony right there.

Every year without fail, someone remembers in late January that they still have "© 2024 Company Name. All rights reserved." sitting in their footer. It's the web dev equivalent of writing the wrong year on checks for the first month. You know it needs updating, you even added it to your mental todo list, but somehow it always slips through until someone inevitably points it out or you randomly notice it yourself weeks later. The real pros just hardcode the current year in a template variable and forget about it forever. The rest of us? We'll see you next January when we go through this dance again.

The classic interrogation technique applied to tech bros who pad their resumes. Someone claims they "use AI to write code" and "develop enterprise applications," but when pressed for specifics, they're really just making webpages. The punchline hits different because there's a massive gap between building scalable enterprise systems and throwing together HTML/CSS landing pages, yet both can technically be called "development." The Microsoft certification in the title adds another layer of irony—Microsoft offers legitimate professional certifications for Azure, .NET, and enterprise technologies, but "HTML Professional" isn't exactly the flex you'd expect from someone building enterprise apps. It's like saying you're a Michelin-starred chef because you can make toast.