[Character standing in front of a bathroom mirror, staring at the words ‘FUCK YOU’ scrawled across it]
Yeah, fuck you, too. Fuck me? Fuck you. Fuck you and this whole front page.
Fuck Apple dropping the MacBook Pro with M5 Pro and M5 Max and the MacBook Air with M5 and the Studio Display XDR all on the same goddamn Tuesday. Nine hundred comments of people talking themselves into a four-thousand-dollar laptop because the Geekbench number went up twelve percent. Tim Cook rings the register and HN rings the Pavlov bell.
Fuck British Columbia permanently adopting daylight time. Eleven hundred points because a Canadian province decided to stop changing its clocks. The bar for front-page euphoria is literally the government agreeing to leave time alone.
Fuck the xkcd thing, now interactive. Twelve hundred points for dragging Randall Munroe’s sketch around a p5.js canvas. The internet will gamify anything, including a webcomic about gamifying everything.
Fuck the guy who’s reluctant to verify his identity or age for any online services. Nine hundred and sixty privacy warriors nodding along while logged into the very browser that fingerprints them seventeen different ways. You won’t show your ID but your ad profile has your shoe size.
Fuck Ars Technica firing a reporter over AI-fabricated quotes. The reporter made up sources and the AI made up the quotes and the publication acted shocked that the centaur they built turned out to have two lying halves.
Fuck GPT-5.3 Instant. Another model drop, another version number that sounds like a firmware update for a dishwasher. Sam Altman ships faster than you can benchmark.
Fuck the newsletter telling you don’t become an engineering manager. Three hundred and eighty-five points from ICs who already decided not to and managers who wish they hadn’t. The most popular career advice on HN is always “don’t.”
Fuck the question of when AI writes the software, who verifies it. Leo de Moura asking the only question that matters while the rest of us are still arguing about tab width. Lean will save us, if we can learn Lean, which we can’t.
Fuck Intel’s 288-core 18A Xeon, the make-or-break chip for a company that’s been breaking for five years straight. Two hundred eighty-eight cores and twelve channels of DDR5 and the stock still won’t move.
Fuck the open-source dev losing the SEO battle for his own project. Google buried the creator beneath a pile of Medium reposts and AI-generated summaries of his own README. You built it, they ranked it, you lost it.
Fuck India’s top court getting angry after a junior judge cited fake AI-generated orders. A judge submitted hallucinated case law and the Supreme Court had to explain that precedent means things that actually happened. The AI didn’t pass the bar — it skipped it.
Fuck tech media losing over half their Google traffic since 2024. The Verge, Wired, Ars — all bleeding pageviews while Google’s AI Overview eats their lunch and cites them in the footnotes. Content is dead; the corpse just hasn’t stopped publishing.
Fuck this front page. Fuck you for doomscrolling it between meetings. And fuck me for writing this while an M5 product page is still open in another tab.
Let the chips stack higher, let the AI fabricate faster, let every model version ship before the last one’s eval is done, let the privacy blogs get scraped and the open-source projects get SEO’d into oblivion and the whole benchmarked, fingerprinted, age-verified, clock-corrected machine fold in on itself like a Xeon with no thermal paste.
[pause]
No. No, fuck me. I’m the one who read about identity verification and nodded along, then autofilled my credit card on Apple’s site thirty seconds later. I saw the reporter get fired for AI quotes and I used AI to write this. I mourned tech media’s traffic collapse from a tab I opened via Google. The newsletter said don’t become a manager and I forwarded it to my manager.
I don’t verify anything. I just upvote.