Friends, comrades, netizens. Lend me your eyes;
I come to bury coding, not to praise it.
The bugs that we create live after us;
The projects that we love remain unknown;
So let it be with coding. The noble chatbot
Hath told you coding was too difficult:
If it were so, it was a greivous fault,
And grievously hath coding answer’d it.
Here, under leave of chatbot and the rest–
For chatbot is an honourable bot;
So are they all, all honourable bots–
Come I to speak in coding’s funeral.
It was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But chatbot says it was tiring;
And chatbots are an honourable lot.
It hath brought convenience to our homes
Whose automations did our time reclaim:
Did this in coding seem difficult?
When that the world bade build, coding did so:
Difficulty should be greater toiling;
Yet chatbot says it was too difficult;
And chatbot is an honourable bot.
I speak not to disprove what chatbot spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love it once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for it?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish bits,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with coding,
And I must pause till it come back to me.