Check Whether Your Private Key Is Used

Open a terminal in public and suddenly you're the digital equivalent of a witch in Salem. Just trying to check disk space but the crowd's already gathering kindling. Non-tech folks see those colorful command lines and immediately assume you're either hacking the Pentagon or summoning digital demons. The number of times I've had to explain that "sudo apt update" isn't actually breaching national security is frankly exhausting.

Oh, the sweet irony of privacy-conscious users accidentally nuking their own ability to use the internet. Someone disabled all cookies thinking they're outsmarting Big Tech, then calls support wondering why they can't stay logged in anywhere. The dev's initial reaction is pure comedic gold—"haha good joke mate"—because surely nobody would actually block ALL cookies and expect authentication to work, right? But then reality hits harder than a production bug at 5 PM on Friday. They actually did that. They really, genuinely blocked all cookies. Here's the thing: session management literally depends on cookies (or similar mechanisms) to remember who you are between requests. Without them, every page refresh is like meeting the server for the first time. It's like showing up to work every day and expecting your boss to remember you, except you're wearing a different disguise each time. Support tickets like these are why devs develop trust issues with user reports. "It's not working" suddenly becomes an archaeological expedition to discover what unholy configuration the user has conjured.

The ultimate security theater—an Epson projector with a "PASSWORD PROTECTED" sticker slapped on it. Because nothing says "Fort Knox" like a device whose default password is probably "admin" or "0000". The IT department's noble attempt at security that'll stop absolutely no one except the presenter who actually needs to use it five minutes before the demo. Meanwhile, the hacker in the audience is thinking, "Ah yes, this sophisticated 4-digit barrier is truly impenetrable."

Sleeping peacefully until your brain jolts you awake at 3:27 AM because you realized you used = instead of == in that authentication code. That single equals sign just gave admin access to literally everyone. Sweet dreams! Nothing quite like the cold sweat of realizing you've accidentally created the world's most generous authorization system. The fix takes 2 seconds but the existential dread lasts forever.

Cute cat doing cute cat things until you realize it edited your bootloader. The escalation from "sneaked in your house" to "modified critical system files" is the kind of chaos energy only a sysadmin would appreciate. Sure, sit on my couch, eat my pasta, but touch /usr/bin/vim and we're gonna have problems. That smug little face in the last panel knows exactly what it did. No remorse. Just vibes and filesystem destruction.

The dual-species taxonomy of Gen Z developers has been documented with scientific precision here. On the left, we have the Hackerman Cosplayer - running Kali Linux purely for aesthetic, posting terminal screenshots at 2:58 AM like they're dropping a mixtape, and claiming they could hack NASA with a toaster while struggling to deploy a basic API. They've got a ProtonMail account that's never received a single sensitive email and a collection of AI waifus that would make a neural network blush. On the right, we have the Career-First Minimalist - a blank terminal that's opened exactly once per quarter, a LinkedIn profile that's as barren as their passion for coding, and a copy of "Cracking the Coding Interview" that's still in mint condition. They know Kubernetes exists but would rather discuss their 401k strategy. Their meetings are just daydreaming sessions with screen sharing. The beautiful irony? Both types are getting hired anyway because the job market is desperate for anyone who can spell "JavaScript" correctly.