[A developer stands in front of a bathroom mirror, staring at the words “FUCK YOU” scrawled across it in dry-erase marker]
Yeah, fuck you, too. Fuck me? Fuck you. Fuck you and this whole front page.
Fuck We mourn our craft. Three hundred developers pouring one out for artisanal code like it’s a wake for handloom weaving. You didn’t lose your craft. You lost your monopoly on typing.
Fuck coding agents replacing every framework I used. Rails, Django, Next.js — all of it obsolete because some guy hooked Claude to a for-loop and called it architecture. Congratulations, you replaced the building with the wrecking ball.
Fuck LLMs as the new high level language. We spent sixty years climbing from assembly to Python and now the next abstraction layer is begging. Please, Mr. Token Predictor, write me a function. The high-level language is groveling.
Fuck software factories and the agentic moment. We finally found a word worse than “synergy.” The agentic moment. Like it’s a spiritual awakening and not a VC deck with a robot clipart.
Fuck speed up responses with fast mode — Claude Code. The AI that writes your code for you is now too slow, so they made it dumber and faster. The microwave dinner of software engineering.
Fuck Monty, a secure Python interpreter written in Rust for use by AI. We built a sandbox so the machine can run code safely because we don’t trust the thing we’re trusting to write all our code. Read that sentence again.
Fuck the AI boom causing shortages everywhere else. Every GPU on earth sucked into the chatbot furnace while the power grid wheezes and actual science waits in line behind a model that generates pictures of cats in hats.
Fuck SectorC, a C compiler in 512 bytes. Five hundred and twelve bytes. Meanwhile your node_modules is four gigabytes and you still can’t center a div.
Fuck Hoot: Scheme on WebAssembly. Parentheses all the way down, compiled to a bytecode nobody asked for, running in a browser that’s already shipping three JavaScript runtimes. Beautiful and utterly pointless, like calligraphy on a napkin.
Fuck Microsoft account bugs locking someone out of Notepad. Notepad. The last honest program on Windows. And Microsoft strapped a login screen to it and bricked it. You have to sign in to type plaintext now. We deserve extinction.
Fuck the FDA going after non-approved GLP-1 drugs. The compounding pharmacies had a good run selling discount Ozempic until Big Pharma remembered it owns the regulators. Your semaglutide will now cost what it’s supposed to cost: everything.
Fuck stories from 25 years of software development. A quarter century of lessons learned and the biggest one is still “meetings could have been emails.”
Fuck RHIC concluding its 25-year run with final collisions. Twenty-five years smashing gold nuclei together at Brookhaven and nobody on the front page cared until the day they turned it off. We only love physics when it’s dying.
Fuck the front page. An orange slot machine we pull every fifteen minutes hoping meaning falls out.
Fuck you for scrolling past the particle collider to upvote the AI post.
And fuck me for knowing the difference and doing it anyway.
Every framework replaced, every craft mourned, every compiler shrunk to nothing and every language abstracted into begging — let it all collapse, let the agents consume themselves, let the fast mode get so fast it skips the code entirely, let the whole agentic moment pass like a kidney stone and leave us standing in the rubble with nothing but a 512-byte compiler and a blinking cursor.
[pause]
No. No, fuck you, Montgomery. You mourned your craft in a tweet and went right back to prompting. You bookmarked the Scheme-on-Wasm repo and you’ll never clone it. You mass-upvoted stories about AI replacing developers while using AI to write this rant about AI replacing developers. You’re not angry at the front page. You’re angry because you saw the particle collider shut down and scrolled past it too, just like everyone else.