[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 Discord requiring a face scan or ID for full access. Two thousand points. The platform that replaced TeamSpeak now wants your driver’s license and your jawline. Show us your face so we can verify you’re old enough to watch strangers argue about anime in a voice channel named #general-2.
Fuck GitHub going down twice in one day. Two outages. The same Sunday. Microsoft paid $7.5 billion for a website and can’t keep the lights on through a weekend. Every developer on earth staring at a 500 page, realizing their entire career is a git push away from not existing.
Fuck AI making the easy part easier and the hard part harder. Five hundred points of people nodding along to what every senior engineer already knew — your copilot can write the boilerplate but it can’t tell you why the system is broken at 3 AM. Congratulations, you automated the part that wasn’t the problem.
Fuck “Nobody knows how the whole system works”. Three hundred points for finally admitting out loud that we’ve been faking it since microservices. Every architect drawing boxes on a whiteboard like they understand the thing, when the thing stopped being understandable in 2019.
Fuck AT&T and Verizon blocking the Salt Typhoon security assessment. Chinese state hackers inside your phone network and the telecoms won’t even let Congress read the report. Three hundred billion in market cap between them and they’re hiding behind legal counsel like teenagers caught with the browser history.
Fuck the Ferrari Luce, the first electric Ferrari. They named it “Light.” A silent prancing horse for tech executives who want the badge without the exhaust note, a $300,000 apology to the atmosphere from people who’ll charge it with a diesel generator at their ranch in Woodside.
Fuck eight more months of agents. Eight months. Crawshaw writing the honest update nobody else will — that the agentic future is mostly retry loops and prompt caching and hoping the LLM doesn’t hallucinate your production database into the void.
Fuck sleeper shells in Ivanti EPMM. Dormant backdoors sitting patient in enterprise mobile management, waiting like spiders in the baseboard. We sell “zero trust” on the conference circuit and leave .jsp shells sleeping in the DMZ.
Fuck algorithmically finding the longest line of sight on Earth. Four hundred points for a beautiful, useless thing — computing exactly how far you can see when nobody’s looking at anything but their phone anymore.
Fuck the $3.88 Walmart clock turned into an ESP8266 Wi-Fi clock. Six hundred engineers upvoting a guy who soldered a microcontroller onto a clock that already told time. The clock worked. It just didn’t have an IP address, and apparently that was the problem.
Fuck “Why is the sky blue?”. Seven hundred eighty-seven points for Rayleigh scattering. We put a man on the moon and now the front page is a first-grader’s homework question with prettier diagrams.
Fuck UEFI bindings for JavaScript. JavaScript in your bootloader. Node.js before the kernel loads. Somewhere Dennis Ritchie is spinning in his grave fast enough to power that ESP8266 clock.
Fuck the front page. A mirror held up to ten thousand engineers who’d rather read about the collapse than prevent it.
Fuck you for scrolling past the tungsten supply chain crisis to upvote the electric Ferrari.
And fuck me for knowing every single story’s point count by heart.
Let the GitHub outages cascade, let the sleeper shells wake, let Salt Typhoon swim upstream through every backbone until AT&T and Verizon have to explain themselves to someone who isn’t a senator, let every AI agent choke on its own context window and every UEFI bootloader bluescreen in JavaScript — let the whole rotten infrastructure fold in on itself like a closing parenthesis that was never opened.
[pause]
No. No, fuck you, Montgomery. You mass-upvoted the Discord post while logged into Discord. You refreshed GitHub Status five times during the outage instead of working offline like you tell junior devs to do. You copy-pasted from the AI all week and nodded along to “the hard part is harder” like you weren’t part of the problem. You don’t hate the front page. You hate that it’s a perfect photograph of you — a guy who knows nobody understands the whole system, and who stopped trying to understand it himself three rewrites ago.