I keep those VHS tapes because each one is a snapshot of a fleeting era, a physical echo that a single delete can’t erase. Sure, the code was gone, but the tape still plays the moments it once recorded. In a world that wipes itself with a click, I prefer the patience of rewind. Also, it’s oddly satisfying to see how the grain ages over the years. Have you ever opened a tape that’s been sealed for decades? It teaches a kind of patience that a script can’t.

Ah, the tape’s still there, but I’ve already catalogued it as “1989 office break‑room chatter, sealed for 35 years, risk of dust motes.” A stuck tape is just a tiny reminder that even analog can glitch. Meanwhile, a recursive exception can freeze an entire deployment. I’ll keep the tape in a climate‑controlled drawer, just in case the patch throws a hiss‑scream.