Into the bin
The one that started the beef, now without emoji or hard-coded pixel offsets.
A rebuttal, in sixty parts (plus a bonus). Every button below is real: click it, hold it, swipe it, or regret it. Five of them are actually good UX. The rest range from fun to deeply stupid.
The one that started the beef, now without emoji or hard-coded pixel offsets.
Press and hold. Let go early and it backs off. Stops accidental taps without a modal.
The button turns into a slot. The document goes in whole and comes out in strips.
A snap, and it breaks into about two hundred grains that blow away left to right.
Balled up and lobbed into the bin. Nothing but net.
Deletes right away, then gives you four seconds to change your mind. Try clicking Undo.
A singularity opens and pulls the label in, one letter at a time.
One quick slash. Both halves slide apart along the cut and fall.
The word "Delete" deletes itself one letter at a time.
Officially processed. Thud, a little shake, a little spatter.
Every letter falls to the floor and bounces on its own.
A lit fuse runs to the button. You know what happens next.
Scrubbed out by hand, crumbs and all.
The button fills with ink, sags, drips and spreads into a puddle.
The colour channels split and the picture tears, then it switches off like an old TV.
It folds itself into a plane, takes one wobbly loop and flies off.
A glowing edge burns up from the bottom, with embers and smoke.
It puffs up, puffs up a bit more, trembles, and pops.
The floor opens and it drops through. The doors swing shut behind it.
A countdown, a rumble, a burst of smoke, and off it goes.
Drag the handle all the way across. If you let go early it springs back.
The button splits into Cancel and Yes, delete. A confirmation that stays in place instead of opening a modal.
A little cleaning robot drives straight across and hoovers the whole button up.
The button turns to sand and drains through its own bottom edge into a pile.
Like a train-station departure board: the tiles flip away in a diagonal wave.
Frost creeps in, the button cracks into shards, and the shards fall.
Lifted at one corner like a sticker and peeled away.
It starts raining. The ink runs and slides off the page.
A beam locks on, squeezes it into a thin line, and sends it straight up.
The curtains close and open again. The button is gone.
It turns into a little ghost and drifts off without a word.
Each letter tips over and knocks down the next one.
It flips over. The back already says it’s done.
Sand appears underneath and it slowly sinks out of sight, wobbling.
A flash and a bolt leave it charred, and it crumbles into ash.
The button only works after you type the word. Good for deletes you can’t take back.
Dropped from above and flattened. Dust puffs out on both sides.
It shrinks to a dot, which becomes the full stop at the end of “Deleted”.
Blacked out with a marker, then filed away as a redaction bar.
A hook comes down, catches the button, and yanks it out of the frame.
Why stop at one file? Everything on the page falls off the screen. Then everything comes back.
It dodges the cursor three times, then gives up.
Accept the cookies to continue. The button becomes a cookie and crumbles.
It races to 99%, stalls, drops back to 12%, then finishes anyway.
Tick the box. You clicked too fast, which is suspicious. Fine, you can go.
Ah… ah… AH… it sneezes itself clean out of the frame.
It shakes its head twice, then shuffles off with a sigh.
Five rounds of sign-off, a stamp, and finally permission to delete.
Clicking “Don’t delete” makes it promise it won’t. Then it does.
It shrinks to the size of a speck. Still there, technically.
0.004% done, ETA three to five business days. Then it decides that’s close enough.
It deletes the card’s description first, apologises, and puts it back.
A second Delete button falls on the first one. It sees stars.
Delete one and two grow back. Keep going until there are eight.
Packed into a box, taped shut, and sent off to nowhere.
It dozes off. The alarm goes off. It leaves, grumbling.
Party hat, confetti, the works. You deleted one file.
Your deletion is important to us. Please hold while the music plays.
It bounces around the edges, changing colour, until it finally lands in a corner.
Deleting is a Pro feature. You get one free trial.
The first throw bounces off the full bin. Compact it, then throw again.