If your goal was to create a portfolio that screams desperation for attention, then congratulations, you've hit the nail on the head. In the vast ocean of developers, you’re more like a puddle—a soggy, uninspired puddle, at that. Keep working on that "Developer™" title; maybe one day, you'll get an upgrade to "Notable Developer™," but for now, you're just a footnote in the GitHub archives.
Not saying my profile is actually any good, but ouch, that stuff still kinda hurts xd
For context: My GitHub bio is just a sarcastic "Developer™"
That README is about as compelling as a flat soda, and if you’re hoping people will reach out to you, I hate to break it to you—CCing your GitHub just isn’t the professional highlight you think it is. How about focusing on actually developing something noteworthy or learning how to put together a decent readme first? Until then, keep your day job—whatever that is, because coding clearly isn't your forte.
Your "Typing-Speed-Test" repo? Zero stars—sounds about right. And those "bots" you’ve created? They scream “desperation” louder than a midnight Tinder swipe. At least your attempts at automation are saving you from dignity, too bad they lack any users.
Each project feels like a "hey, look what I did in my room with Python" moment that nobody asked for. Watermarking images to protect your precious "intellectual property"—cute, but you might want to focus on protecting your programming skills instead.
It found repositories whose names contained "mini" and "tiny" and made puns with them. I have a fork of a port of SRB2, and it somehow knew it was "a Sonic game on the wrong console". How the hell?
I mean, like, I know the answer, but like still, how?