Hello, Habr, would you like a little Sunday rest? Read my poems, they will cheer you up, and some will make you think.
Modern programmer
I am a programmer who barely realized
The whole essence of programming offices.
I'm middle again in my twenty-two
And at twenty-one he was a señor.
Addition
The work is going on, and, whatever one may say,
I will be initiated into the craft.
I will go to June by the age of thirty,
And at forty I will go to kindergarten.
Recruiting difficultiesWe have lost our feet, we will not find a person:
Everyone is not cool enough for us.
We would have a senior with experience from the century,
Only not these, that crowds rod.
These comrades brazenly and boldly
They lie about the acquired skills.
We would have a lord with knowledge of the matter;
These are not needed - they will die from the effort.
We would have a senora - a talent-luminary, -
In the dark mines of uranium ores.
We would have a senora smarter than a moron,
Too bad they don't come here.
Didas fought for th...Didy fought for go,
And they drove the FPs to hell:
Their world won't accept it
Who is happy with lambdas and functors.
Didy fought for go,
Driven by the power of the dough
And drove the fools to death,
Adepts of FPshnogo evil.
The verse is dedicated to the development of secure OS components using Haskell in Kaspersky Lab.
Rapist grandfather and HaskellThe rapist-grandfather was sitting in the OS,
Suffering from problems.
And I thought how to save Xi
From bugs forever.
He thought so that he turned gray,
Didn't eat and didn't sleep well.
But he found a good lot,
Where Haskell rules the show.
He clearly saw his goal:
The code must be beautiful.
And he made DES-El
Generate C code.
And everything would be cool, but losses
He really didn't want to.
For choosing Haskell now
The entire department has been fired.
Ship "Haskell"In a standard whirlpool
He dived bravely from the stern,
Our captain on the ship
Vitaly Braghile.
Wandering between Xi and Ha
The hero of the old verse
He beaconed, living in Moscow, -
Our Yuri Syrov.
Dispelling melancholy like fog,
In the seas of ideas, our chieftain
We bequeathed to be afloat,
Great Klapau.
Quote GHS Code
He will take whatever you ask
The strongest guy at the oar
Zavyalov Vladisla.
On a safe path between sharp rocks
The navigator-aksakal leads us,
Inline maps of many countries,
Vershilov Alexan.
Long live our glorious home,
We lead him to knowledge,
The ship is proud and good,
Our Haskell is expensive.
Hogweed is a local meme of the haskell_blah chat in Telegram.
BorschevykSleep well, guide
Lambdas and types in the human world:
Hogweed guarding the chat
Keep the night calm.
No matter how upset the chat is,
Do not break the steel shackles.
The hogweed is on guard
Juice marks fools.
Relax, forget, warrior,
The night is dark and deep.
Sleep, don't be afraid, be calm
You are in the shadow of the hogweed.
He is under the shadow of a starry night
Protects from enemies.
Hogweed - very toxic, -
Shepherd lambda symbol.
Spirit of the matan theorkatSwiftly, proudly, sloping
The study schedule rises, -
That is the spirit of the matan-theorkat
He prophesies great torments.
You could suffer for an idea
To learn Haskell once,
But he abandoned a good idea:
There is evil matan-theorkat.
You were afraid before an imaginary barrier,
Calling Smatana from the treatise.
But it was not a horned demon,
A little theorkat spirit.
You chickened out - and Haskell before the deadline
Dragging along the path of sunset.
And somewhere sad lonely
The offended spirit of a theorkat.
Haskellist Night PromenadeHaskellists shine in the night
From the light of sacred monads,
And in thoughts - crystal and pure -
They make their nightly promenade.
Chu! - exhausted by rectal pain
In love with objects comrade.
What to do more important: rektangle,
Or is a square better?
Objects - steel frame,
Figures - heavenly order.
Goes left and right
Rhombic ties parade.
Repent! - the voice of the heart calls out.
Calm down! Decay is inevitable!
But more "order" wants
Completely stunned comrade.
Inheritance cases background
Promises even more "rewards":
Now he, not knowing reproach,
Draws a square from a circle.
Ready. But I feel the violence
The poor comrade is worried:
He is a trembling creature, il, right,
Has objects in the right place.
How nice that there is no this pain
In a world where there are many monads,
In the world where you can freely
Make your night promenade.
And for dessert - a great work about C ++, which I read at my keyout report at the C ++ Siberia 2019 conference.
The C++ saga in three parts and one additionPART 1. TYPES AND EXPRESSION
Working evening. Screen light.
From the twilight breathes sleep.
Go to a bar; but it's still early
And you don't have to think about it.
The release is burning, colleagues are crying,
The program is not ready on time ...
... And the thought jumps randomly
Between idle lines.
Refactoring is sacred
And the compiler would be a friend,
But for such types, it's great,
To deprive someone of their hands.
With these types, everything is complicated:
No matter how you pray, no matter how you ask,
They cannot express
All that is unacceptable.
For everything unclean in the program
Our compiler will be silent.
Debage the code, look for yourself,
Until you burn.
PART 2. MULTITHREADING CODE
The snowball is spinning violently, zealously
In the February cold outside the window.
Go to sleep ... But it's still early,
And you don't have to think about...
… Damned bug ruined the threads,
Changing data wrong
Deadlock is his native creed,
And flight air conditioning is his banner.
He's from mutable guns
Conducts aimed shooting.
And he wants, dirty Judas,
Bury streams in a coffin.
He knows that in a war with order
Cunning to pretend to be a court
And announce in a smooth verdict,
Who is to blame for the “order” vol.
Who unknowingly approaches
Shoved everywhere anseifny cast.
Who spawned god-like freaks,
And he created ballast from noodles.
Who was in madness unhealthy,
When, burning all the bridges,
Walked with a mutable charter
To the multithreaded monastery...
… Such an unprecedented “not bad”
You haven't experienced in a long time.
Problems are multiplying like flies
The code turns into trouble.
PART 3. PATTERNS, OOP AND THE BOYERPLATE
The photo is sly
Laughing girl with an umbrella.
Calls and beckons, like a pava,
But that's not what you need to think about.
The hour of success is not yet near,
So far, torn to bolts,
The product suffers in the bowels of the shop
From nut incompleteness.
In this factory, objects
Swollen worse than pasta
And following the example of a secret sect
The adaptor is embedded there.
His job is to be on guard.
Everything that is close to the mind.
Everything where there is meaning, and even
Where the meaning is hard to see.
The scoundrel fights Ockham
And sets the talent on fire.
With him, kisses will become a shame,
And the mind is ruined at the root.
Proclaiming loudly
Universality of diagrams,
He will keep silent about labor in vain,
And inconsistencies here and there.
The sly one tries to slip
Details of extremely complex shapes.
Him to confuse everything - just spit,
He is special in this in many forms ...
... Like this, at the whim of the villain
In the land of magical OOP
The epic lasts for centuries,
Where in the title role - nonsense.
ADDITION. RUST
A paw moves gently in the corner
wall clock cat,
Flickering lava lamp
But that's not what you need to think about.
What to think about?.. Escapes
In the darkness of the night thoughts thread.
Reality melts and melts
And there is no more meaning.
Sleep comes.
And there it stands
Box,
all covered in rust
Neither sweet nor rude, not small, not a coffin,
Straight as a cube, with a staple lock.
The chest is open.
And it grows
A flower as beautiful as the dawn.
He is covered with soft flames,
And emits bright light.
The plant burns for a reason.
The contrasting tone of his fire
Passion is fulfilled. And pure
His silent chatter.
With his warmth he will dissolve
Tired of empty words.
He worships simplicity
And the consistency of the little things.
He announces the end
Where there are no destructive miracles.
There at the notorious sluts
It won't break the process.
There is safety and comfort
There is no pain, no shame.
They pay in advance with happiness,
And age is not a problem.
There's even a strange pawnbroker
Give a mountain of silver.
He is not a waste of great
And the preservation of good ...
… Such was the dream. Waking up, you
Back in the office night
And was now a prisoner of a dream
Overcome neurasthenia.
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Source: habr.com