Day One Of Pissing On Every Editor

Behold the great decline of our noble profession. We went from muscle-bound legends who wrote code without AI crutches and built entire games in Assembly (because apparently pain is character-building) to modern keyboard jockeys who can't center a div without consulting Google for the 47th time today. The golden age programmer fixed memory leaks by hand, while we're over here begging ChatGPT to fix our syntax errors like it's our personal code therapist. And let's not forget the programmer trapped in Vim since 2018 because :q! is apparently harder to remember than differential calculus. The final insult? We fix one bug and create three more. It's not a development cycle, it's a pyramid scheme.

The first time you press 'S' in Vim and see %appdata% appear instead of actually saving your file is like piloting a military helicopter without training. You're staring at cryptic screens wondering why your simple command just launched what feels like nuclear codes. Ten years into my career and I still sometimes exit Vim by rebooting the entire server. Honestly, whoever designed Vim's interface probably also designs airplane cockpits for fun on weekends.

The vi/vim/neovim progression really is the Pokémon evolution of text editors—each one more powerful and unnecessarily complex than the last. You start with vi (barely functional, can't even exit), evolve to vim (now you can customize EVERYTHING), and finally reach neovim (Lua configs and a plugin ecosystem that rivals npm). But the real tragedy here? The yearning for ed/edd/eddy as text editors. For those who don't know, ed is the OG Unix line editor from 1969—so minimal it makes vi look like Microsoft Word. You literally edit files one line at a time with cryptic commands. It's what your grandfather used to write C code uphill both ways. The joke works on multiple levels: it's a Cartoon Network reference, a commentary on the Unix philosophy of evolution, and a sarcastic jab at people who gatekeep text editors. Because nothing says "I'm a real programmer" like pining for a 50-year-old editor that has less features than Notepad.

Full hazmat suits required for Vim extraction procedures. The desperate scribbling of "ESC :q!" is the universal distress signal among developers. Containment protocols dictate maintaining a safe distance from terminals running Vim without proper exit training. Some say the original developer is still stuck in there since 1991.

Remember when programmers were basically coding demigods who could bend computers to their will? Now we're just sad creatures Googling "how to center div" for the 500th time and begging AI to fix our mistakes. The golden age programmer wrote code without StackOverflow, crafted entire games in Assembly (you know, that language that makes you want to cry), manually fixed memory leaks with pointers, and literally hand-coded the software that put humans on the freaking moon. Meanwhile, modern programmers are trapped in Vim wondering why :q doesn't work, fixing one bug only to create three more like some kind of hydra nightmare, and asking ChatGPT to solve problems we should probably understand ourselves. The decline is real, folks. But hey, at least we have dark mode now.

Ah, corporate security logic at its finest! Some poor soul clicks a sketchy email attachment, and suddenly management's brilliant security strategy is "if it's free, it's a threat." Imagine telling developers to uninstall Python, Vim, and 7zip because they didn't come with an invoice. Next they'll be requiring receipts for your keyboard shortcuts. The real security threat isn't free software—it's the executive who thinks obscure paid software with three users worldwide is inherently secure because it cost exactly one corporate credit card approval. Meanwhile, the hacker who sent that email is probably using those same "insecure" free tools to plan their next attack. The irony would be delicious if it weren't so painful.