Inspired By A Recent Thread From This Subreddit

The existential crisis of every imposter syndrome-riddled developer! This dev knows their code is held together by StackOverflow answers and prayer, so if an aviation company thinks they're qualified enough to hire, that's a terrifying red flag about who's building flight systems. The ultimate paradox: succeeding at the interview would confirm their worst fear—that the bar is low enough that even they could pass. And suddenly every turbulence bump becomes "oh god, did I write that part?"

The duality of every developer's existence in one perfect cat meme. When someone asks how long you've been coding, you confidently say "4 years" like it means something. But the moment they assume you must be an expert, your inner cat goes from stoic to panicked faster than a production server during a demo. The truth is, no matter how many years you rack up, you're perpetually one Stack Overflow outage away from complete technical amnesia. Four years of experience just means four years of increasingly creative ways to Google error messages.

The eternal struggle of modern programming summed up perfectly: drawing complex "magic circles" (code) that nobody fully understands. That wizard is literally all of us explaining legacy code. "This symbol is crucial for arcane power" translates to "I have no idea why, but removing this weird function breaks everything." And the punchline? "I just copied it from Arcane Overflow" (Stack Overflow) is programming's darkest secret. We're not wizards—we're just good at finding spells other wizards posted online. The unnecessary symbol that "the whole spell falls apart without for some reason" is basically every piece of code that starts with "// Don't remove this or everything breaks"

An AI trained on StackOverflow responses would indeed be the most passive-aggressive assistant ever created. It would have a PhD in telling you your question is a duplicate of something posted in 2011, suggest you should have read the documentation that doesn't exist, and occasionally remind you that what you're trying to do is "trivial." The only thing missing is the ability to close your real-life problems as "off-topic."

Content YOUR MOTHER IS SO FAT ITE RECURSIVE FUNCTION CALCULATING HER MASS CAUSES A STACK OVERFLOW

The coding hierarchy of life, beautifully illustrated through Noah's Ark. At the top, we've got StackOverflow - the mighty elephant carrying us all. The giraffe reaching for those YouTube tutorials when all else fails. Meanwhile, documentation sits there like a wise old man nobody listens to. Then there's the middle tier: GitHub code (somewhat reliable), professor's code (theoretical at best), your friend's code (questionable but free), and your actual code (we don't talk about that). But when the client shows up? Suddenly that horrific amalgamation of duct tape and prayers you call "working code" becomes your prize exhibit. And the client, bless their heart, still asks "what the hell is this?" - as if they expected actual software engineering instead of the digital equivalent of a panic attack.