No Salt, Just Pure Security Theater

Corporate training modules: the final boss of workplace tedium. First panel shows the truth—they're outdated, ineffective digital zombies that HR unleashes upon us. Second panel reveals the grim reality—we've all morphed into those expressionless NPCs, mindlessly announcing "completion" just to make them go away. The transformation is complete when you realize you've spent 4 hours clicking through a security training that could've been a single email saying "don't use 'password123'." The greatest fiction in software engineering isn't AI consciousness—it's pretending anyone actually learns from these things.

Someone: "Obfuscation doesn't work!" Meanwhile, the obfuscated code looks like hieroglyphics designed by an ancient programmer who hated their future self. It's not just unreadable—it's actively trying to cause psychic damage. The kind of code that makes your IDE contemplate a career change. Whoever wrote this didn't just obfuscate their code, they turned it into a cryptic summoning ritual that would make even the most hardened security expert weep into their mechanical keyboard. And yet, somewhere out there, a developer is proudly thinking "No one will ever reverse engineer THIS masterpiece!"

Ah yes, the classic "fix" that fixes nothing. Committing your .env file to Git is like putting your house keys under the welcome mat and posting the address on Twitter. Sure, your code errors are gone... along with your database credentials, API keys, and whatever shred of respect your senior dev had for you. But hey, ship it.

Congratulations! You've just launched a security breach disguised as an AI startup! The "yellow line" isn't a bug—it's your IDE screaming in terror because you've hardcoded API keys directly in your source code. Nothing says "professional developer" like publishing your AWS, Supabase, OpenAI, and custom API credentials to the entire internet. Those aren't just strings—they're golden tickets to your infrastructure that now belong to everyone with an internet connection. Pro tip: when speedrunning bankruptcy, this is definitely the optimal strategy!

When your security is so good even you can't access it! The joke here is playing on the concept of SSH private keys (already meant to be secret) and making them "more private" by adding more 's' and 'h' characters—as if whispering "shhh" makes your encryption stronger. It's the digital equivalent of putting your password in a safe, then forgetting the safe combination, then burying the safe in concrete. Security through obscurity and anxiety!

The pinnacle of security expertise—someone answering "What screams 'I'm insecure'?" with just "http://" instead of the vastly superior "https://". It's like showing up to a security conference without a password manager and 37 browser extensions that block JavaScript. That lone protocol sitting there, naked and vulnerable, practically begging to have its packets sniffed by anyone with basic networking knowledge. The internet equivalent of leaving your front door not just unlocked, but completely removed from its hinges.