Not All Heroes Run On Chromium

SWEET MERCIFUL HEAVENS! Just when you thought your decade of coding experience made you a JavaScript DEITY, another framework drops and SUDDENLY you're a helpless newborn again! 😱 The JavaScript ecosystem is basically a toxic relationship where you keep thinking "this time I've mastered it" and then BAM! Some new framework with a cutesy animal logo appears overnight and half your knowledge becomes ANCIENT HISTORY! Your resume might as well say "Expert in frameworks that no one uses anymore." The circle of JavaScript life: learn, master, obsolete, repeat. It's emotional DAMAGE in code form!

The perfect visualization of scope creep in web development! What starts as a cute little kid wanting a few technologies (MongoDB, Redis, Angular) turns into a database apocalypse. First frame: "I only need 5 requests per minute!" Second frame: "Just a few tables with hundreds of records!" By the final frame, this innocent project has transformed into a resource-devouring monster with Oracle, Hadoop, and every framework under the sun strapped to it, terrorizing the server playground while screaming "MAKE WAY LOSERS! I'M ABOUT TO PROCESS MY 5 USERS!" The irony of overengineering a solution that serves practically no one is just *chef's kiss*. It's that side project that started with "I'll just use a simple stack" and somehow ended up with Kubernetes.

Ah, the classic developer paradox. "I prefer VS Code because it's lightweight and simple!" *proceeds to transform it into a computational black hole with 47 extensions that colorize brackets, play lo-fi beats when you commit, and predict your next line of code based on your zodiac sign* The irony of turning your "lightweight" editor into something that requires 16GB of RAM just to open a text file is the purest form of developer self-deception. We're all just one extension away from needing a cooling system for our laptops.

Normal humans: peacefully asleep at 4am. Software engineers: laptop in one hand, beer in the other, hair looking like it's been through a merge conflict, casually dropping "So anyway, I started coding" at ungodly hours. The nocturnal programming ritual isn't a choice—it's when the bugs are quieter and Stack Overflow answers seem more profound. That beer isn't for enjoyment; it's compile-time fuel for those moments when your algorithm finally works and you have no idea why.

Ah, the eternal dance of delusion! The top panel shows a developer having an existential crisis trying to estimate project time—because apparently calculating how long it takes to build something that's never been built before is totally reasonable. Meanwhile, the bottom panel reveals the Project Manager, already promising the client it'll be done by yesterday with a smile that screams "I've just committed us to digital seppuku." The perfect representation of why we all have trust issues and caffeine addictions. The PM's optimism is adorable—like watching someone confidently walk into a glass door while giving a TED talk about spatial awareness.

Ah, the classic "MVP" that management is so proud of. Two bikes duct-taped together with all the structural integrity of a house of cards built during an earthquake. The backend developer's purple bike looks somewhat functional but outdated, while the frontend is a flashy green monstrosity that barely connects to anything. And that REST API in the middle? Just plastic wrap and prayers holding the entire architecture together. Yet somehow this contraption is deemed "production ready" by people who've never written a line of code. This is what happens when the deadline was "yesterday" and the budget was "whatever's in the vending machine."