The evolution of code comments is like watching someone slowly lose their grip on reality. You start with good intentions—just a simple label: "CAT". Clean, professional, to the point. Then present-day hits and suddenly you're writing forensic documentation about a cat like you're filing a police report. "Not a dog—a cat. Felis catus..." Complete with biological taxonomy and physical measurements. Someone clearly got burned by a production bug and decided to leave no room for interpretation. But 2030? That's when the existential dread kicks in. Your comments become literary prose about your mother's oak table, memory allocation poetry, and—wait for it—sponsored content with blocked ads. The actual code is a deep clone function, but the comment is a whole memoir with commercial breaks. The trajectory is painfully accurate: from minimalism to over-documentation to complete dissociation from the task at hand. Give it another decade and we'll be writing comments in iambic pentameter with NFT links.