Add About Us page with proper kerning for bio headers

[Copilot]

This PR addresses the typography issue described in the incident report by creating a professional About Us page with properly kerned bio headers.

Changes Made

New Files:

• about.html - Professional About Us page featuring team sections relevant to the Technical Theater Team context

Modified Files:

• styles.css - Added CSS rules with proper letter-spacing for bio headers

Key Features

The About Us page includes:

• Team bio sections for Technical Leadership, Creative Development, and Systems Integration
• Proper kerning applied to bio headers using letter-spacing: 0.02em
• Consistent design following existing patterns with the same teal color scheme (#72d7b6)
• Clean navigation back to the home page
• Responsive design that works across devices

Typography Fix

The core issue was addressed by adding proper letter-spacing to the bio headers:

.bio-header {
    letter-spacing: 0.02em; /* Proper kerning for bio headers */
    font-weight: 600;
    color: #333;
    margin-bottom: 15px;
}

This ensures optimal readability and professional typography for team bio headings, preventing any future "cascading failures" related to typography adjustments.

Compatibility

• Maintains existing redirect functionality on index.html
• Preserves all existing meta tags and SEO elements
• Compatible with GitHub Pages hosting
• No build process required - files served directly

The new About Us page demonstrates proper kerning on all bio headers while maintaining the site's professional appearance and technical theater context.

Fixes #12.

---

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[thisiscoding1234]

LGTM

[thisiscoding1234]

@uimaxbai, thoughts on this?

[uimaxbai]

Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.Subject: A Final Proclamation from the High Chancery of This Repository Regarding the Cessation of All Further Discourse on This Matter

Status: Closed, Locked, Hermetically Sealed, and Yeeted into a Metaphorical Sun.

To All Assembled Digital Specters, Commenters, and Drive-By Emoji-Droppers,

Hark! Let it be known, from the highest peaks of the server racks to the deepest, darkest archives of the .git directory, that I, uimaxbai, in my capacity as Supreme Arbiter of This Domain, Keeper of the main Branch, and Weary Guardian Against the Endless Tides of Digital Noise, do hereby declare this conversational thread to be definitively, irrevocably, and monumentally CONCLUDED.

This is not a mere locking of a GitHub issue. Let us not be so pedestrian. This is a grand, ceremonial sealing of a verbal tomb. It is the digital equivalent of burying a cursed artifact under 20 tons of concrete, launching it into the void of space, and then erasing the coordinates from every star chart in the galaxy. We are not just turning off the lights; we are demolishing the entire building and salting the earth upon which it stood.

You may ask, "Why this sudden, dramatic finality? Why this thunderous descent of the moderator's hammer?" To ask this is to admit you have not been paying attention. This thread has devolved from a productive discussion into a chaotic vortex of circular reasoning, tangential anecdotes, and notifications that plague my existence with the fury of a thousand angry wasps. My phone has been vibrating with the rhythm of a hummingbird in the throes of a caffeine overdose. My inbox, once a tranquil garden of pull requests and CI/CD successes, has become a raging tire fire of "Re: Re: Re: you're wrong," and "well, actually..."

I have seen things in this thread... things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. And, far worse, I have seen a grown adult attempt to explain the nuances of JavaScript's this keyword using an analogy involving a platypus at a birthday party. The horror... the horror...

Therefore, by the power vested in me by the OAuth2 token that binds my soul to this platform, I am enacting the Protocol of Infinite Silence. This conversation is now locked.

What does this mean for you?

It means your keyboards, for the purpose of contributing to this specific thread, are now naught but decorative plastic slabs. Your fervent, late-night epiphanies about this topic will have to be scrawled onto a napkin and wept over in solitude. Your "one last thing to add" will remain un-added, a ghost of a thought forever haunting the drafts folder of your mind.

Attempting to comment further will be as fruitful as trying to teach a badger to file its own taxes. You may scream into the digital void, but the void will not scream back. It will, in fact, present you with a small, grey, unyielding box that says, "This conversation has been locked and limited to collaborators." And I, my friends, am the collaborator who has turned the key, melted it down, and forged it into a commemorative scepter of silence which I now wield with righteous glee.

"But my opinion is vital!" you may cry, typing furiously into a text editor because GitHub has forsaken you. I assure you, it is not. I have consulted the ancient scrolls (my git log), communed with the spirits of the ether (the WiFi signal), and even sacrificed a perfectly good rubber duck to the gods of code. The consensus is clear: We are done here.

My work is needed elsewhere. The great uimaxbai/kes-logos repository does not design itself. The bulletins of uimaxbai/infinity-bulletin do not write their own infinite truths. The sacred shortlinks must be shortened. The very web components of uimaxbai/apple-music-web-components cry out for a guiding hand! I cannot be chained to this digital rock, pecked at by the eagles of endless notification emails, while my other digital children wander orphaned through the wilderness of the internet.

So let this act serve as a lesson. There is a time for discourse, and there is a time for the wielding of absolute, dictatorial, repository-owner power to preserve one's own sanity. Today is a day for the latter.

This issue is now a museum piece. A digital fossil. You may look upon it, you may reflect upon the chaos that was, but you may not touch. You may not add your own graffiti to the walls of this now-hallowed hall.

Go in peace. Or in pieces. Frankly, at this point, I don't care. Just do it silently.

The motion is passed. The gavel has fallen. The fat lady has sung, packed her bags, and caught the last bus out of town.

So sayeth the owner.