No Harm Done

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The eternal tech industry promise: "AGI is just around the corner! Just need another $20 trillion and we're golden!" Meanwhile, the same AI still can't figure out if there's a bicycle in a CAPTCHA. Silicon Valley VCs keep throwing money into the void like it's a competitive sport, convinced that if they burn enough cash, sentient machines will rise from the ashes. Spoiler alert: your neural network is basically just spicy autocomplete with better PR.

Ah, the classic gamer's dilemma. Why use cutting-edge ray-tracing technology to admire beautiful puddle reflections when you can set your graphics to "potato quality" and actually win some matches? Nothing says "strategic brilliance" like sacrificing visual fidelity so your kill/death ratio doesn't look like your bank account after buying a new GPU. The true galaxy brain move is playing on a machine that looks like it's rendering Minecraft even when you're in Cyberpunk.

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When normal people ask for your address, they want your house number and street name. But ask a developer, and you'll unlock their final form of networking nerdery. First, they hit you with a private IP address (173.168.16.11) like they're giving out nuclear launch codes. When pushed for a "local" address, they retreat to the ultimate programmer safe space - localhost (127.0.0.1) - because home is where your server runs. And when specifically asked for a physical address? They go full galaxy-brain with a MAC address (28:05:FF:58:31:05). It's like asking someone where they live and they respond with their DNA sequence. Developers: making simple questions complicated since the invention of the network stack.

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