The Great Browser Betrayal

So apparently launching a text editor in 2014 triggered a decade-long domino effect that's now DEVOURING all our RAM like some kind of Chrome-powered black hole. Thanks, Electron! Who knew that wrapping every single app in an entire Chromium browser would have consequences? Remember when 8GB was considered "enthusiast tier"? Now it's barely enough to run Slack, VS Code, and maybe—MAYBE—a browser with three tabs open before your computer starts making sounds like a jet engine preparing for takeoff. The prophecy has been fulfilled: every app is now secretly a web browser in a trench coat, and your RAM is paying the price. The real tragedy? We can't even be mad because these Electron apps are genuinely useful. We're just... stuck watching our memory usage climb while muttering "it was better in the terminal days" like grumpy old devs.

The corporate-to-home wardrobe budget transformation is the true remote work perk nobody talks about. Left side: $322 of business casual attire. Right side: $132 of "camera-ready from the waist up" fashion and whatever the hell counts as pants when nobody can see your lower half. The glasses stay though—gotta maintain that "I know what I'm doing" facade while debugging in your underwear. Remote work didn't just save commute time; it liberated us from the tyranny of pants.

You're trying to move a feature you barely understand into production, and your support system is basically a human pyramid of questionable reliability. Your senior is at the bottom (probably on their phone), Claude and Gemini are doing the heavy lifting in the middle, your cursor is there for moral support, and somehow a 12-year-old StackOverflow thread is the one actually keeping everything from collapsing. The best part? You're at the top pretending you know what you're doing while everyone below is desperately trying to keep you from falling. Modern development in a nutshell: standing on the shoulders of AI assistants, outdated forum posts, and one senior dev who's probably questioning their life choices. At least nobody's reading the documentation—that would be too easy.

Even Death can't kill Internet Explorer properly. The Grim Reaper shows up with his "It's time to go" speech, but IE just freezes with the classic "Internet Explorer is not responding" message. The ultimate irony - a browser so slow it can't even die on time. Microsoft's digital cockroach somehow outlived its usefulness by a decade yet still managed to be the default browser for corporate America until IT finally got permission to upgrade... to Edge.

Web designers will fight you to the death over importing a 500KB custom font file that looks exactly like Arial but costs $299 per year. Meanwhile, developers are out here begging on their knees: "Please, just use system-ui . It's free, it's fast, it loads instantly, and users already have it!" But no. Designers see font-family: system-ui; and experience genuine psychological horror. That simple CSS declaration represents everything they fear: practicality over aesthetics, performance over perfection, and the terrifying possibility that maybe, just maybe, Helvetica Neue is good enough. The best part? Users literally cannot tell the difference. But that 3-second load time from your Google Fonts import? They definitely notice that.

Nature's warning system: bright yellow and black = STAY AWAY. Poison dart frogs? Deadly gorgeous. Coral snakes? Fashion-forward killers. And then there's JavaScript with its cheerful yellow logo, sitting there all innocent-looking while it casually lets you add strings to arrays, compare bananas to motorcycles, and returns "undefined" when you sneeze wrong. The comparison is *chef's kiss* because just like those venomous creatures, JavaScript lures you in with its accessibility and vibrant ecosystem, then BAM—you're debugging why [] + [] = "" but [] + {} = "[object Object]" and questioning every life choice that led you to web development. It's the programming equivalent of touching a pretty frog and immediately regretting it. But hey, at least those animals have the decency to warn you upfront. JavaScript just smiles and says "everything is fine" while your type coercion nightmares multiply in the background.