“It’s days like today, when I’m fiddling with connectors or restoring a backup or reinstalling an operating system or just swabbing the decks clean of C++ inheritance botches, that I like to reflect that my mom thinks I work in High Tech.”
One man’s cute hack is another man’s searing pit of hell.
When you sit down at the keyboard and nothing comes out, you have three choices: Push it anyway (there’s a deadline, after all), go do something else (maybe inspiration will strike?), or write little pieces of craps like the ones I’m writing right now.
If God had a programming language, it probably wasn’t standardized, and I’ll bet you a dollar it didn’t have trigraphs, either.
The guy who cut you off in traffic (and who you made a rude gesture to, the rudest that one person can possibly accomplish alone, in a car, without causing an accident) will turn out to work five doors down the hall.
Every time you use #define, God kills a start-up.
Cat-like typing detected (link). “Hey, it compiled!”