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2026年3月29日 星期日

Beer Street vs. Gin Lane: The Original "Public Health" Propaganda

 

Beer Street vs. Gin Lane: The Original "Public Health" Propaganda

If you ever feel judged by a modern government health campaign, just remember William Hogarth’s 1751 engravings. Commissioned to support the Gin Act of 1751, Hogarth created the ultimate "Before and After" advertisement—except instead of a weight loss journey, it was a journey into the gutter.

In "Beer Street," London is a utopian paradise. The inhabitants are plump, prosperous, and suspiciously happy. An artist paints a masterpiece, a blacksmith effortlessly swings a hammer, and lovers flirt over frothy mugs of British ale. The only business in decline? The pawnbroker, whose shop is literally falling apart because everyone is too wealthy to need a loan. The message was subtle as a brick: Beer is patriotic, healthy, and keeps the cogs of capitalism turning.

Then, there is "Gin Lane." It is a masterpiece of urban horror. Here, the pawnbroker is the only one thriving. In the foreground, a syphilitic mother, her legs covered in sores, lazily lets her infant plummet to its death while she reaches for a pinch of snuff. A skeletal ballad-singer dies of starvation, and a man competes with a dog for a bone. Gin, the "foreign" spirit, was depicted as the destroyer of the nuclear family and the architect of national decay.

The cynical reality? The government didn't actually care about the dying infants; they cared about the falling tax revenue and the shortage of sober soldiers for their colonial wars. By demonizing gin and sanctifying beer, they successfully shifted the masses toward a beverage that was easier to regulate and harder to hide. It was the birth of the "Nanny State"—using art to tell the poor that their misery wasn't caused by systemic poverty, but by their choice of cocktail.


<em>Gin Lane</em> (1751) [Engraving]


William Hogarth, Hogarth's works. Vol. I.


2026年3月16日 星期一

The Noma Trap: Why the Big Four Haven't Collapsed (Yet)

 

The Noma Trap: Why the Big Four Haven't Collapsed (Yet)

The "Noma Case" is a perfect autopsy of what happens when a business model ignores the cold math of the market. For years, Noma thrived on "reputational equity"—the idea that a year of being yelled at in a Copenhagen kitchen was worth more than a six-figure salary elsewhere. But as the user pointed out, the moment you force "socialistic equal treatment" (mandated wages) onto a model that only balances because of "hidden" returns (prestige and learning), the model implodes.

Now, look at the Big Four (PwC, Deloitte, EY, KPMG). They are the white-collar version of Noma. They don't have the luxury of paying zero (labor laws are a bit stricter in the City than in a Danish test kitchen), but the logic is identical: low hourly pay + extreme workload = high future exit value.

The Big Four Math in 2026: Triage and Transparency

In 2026, the Big Four are facing their own "Noma moment," but they are navigating it differently:

  • The Pay Paradox: In markets like London and Hong Kong, fresh graduate pay has actually risen (to roughly £35k-£40k or HKD 20k+), but when you factor in the 70-hour weeks during "busy season," the hourly rate is dangerously close to a barista's.

  • The AI Replacement: Unlike Noma, which needed human hands to pluck ants off a leaf, the Big Four are aggressively using AI to replace the "grunt work" interns used to do. Graduate hiring is down significantly (-44% in the UK in some sectors) because the "learning by doing" can now be simulated or automated.

  • The Workload Trap: Workloads remain brutal. While interns are often "protected" by HR-mandated 40-hour caps to avoid lawsuits, the moment they become "Associates," the protection vanishes. They are the new "unpaid interns" in spirit—working 80 hours for a 40-hour salary.

The Argument for Transparency over Equality

The "Marxist ideal" failed Noma because it demanded a living wage for a role that was never meant to be a "job"—it was an "investment." To save professional services and high-end craft, we don't need socialist mandates; we need Market Transparency.

  1. Stop Sanitizing the Struggle: If a job requires 80 hours a week and pays the equivalent of £10/hour, the firm should be forced to publish that effective hourly rate.

  2. Quantify the "Exit Value": If Noma or Goldman Sachs wants to pay low wages, let them prove the ROI. "80% of our interns earn £200k within 5 years." That is a transparent market transaction, not exploitation.

  3. The Problem with "Fairness": When we force "fair" wages onto high-prestige, low-margin sectors, we don't get "fair" businesses; we get fewer businesses. Noma didn't become a better place to work; it just stopped being a restaurant.

Human nature is built for trade. If a graduate wants to "sell" three years of their youth for a lifelong pedigree, let them—as long as they know exactly how much blood they are signing for.



2026年1月24日 星期六

Pay to Do Evil, Do Evil for Pay” — The Rot at the Heart of Modern Power

 “Pay to Do Evil, Do Evil for Pay” — The Rot at the Heart of Modern Power



There are two lines that now circulate like a dark mantra in Chinese: 收錢做壞事 (shōu qián zuò huài shì) and 做壞事收錢 (zuò huài shì shōu qián). At first glance, they seem almost identical: both describe evil acts tied to money. But upon reflection, they are two different stages of moral collapse, two stages of a society in which the line between service and crime, between duty and corruption, has vanished.

收錢做壞事 means: “Take money, then do evil.” It is the classic form of corruption — the official who accepts a bribe and then uses state power to hurt the weak, help the rich, or destroy the inconvenient. The order is: money first, evil later. The actor still pretends to be a neutral functionary; he only crosses the line when the money is in hand. This is the corruption of the civil servant, the manager, the bureaucrat: power for sale, but not yet power built on evil.

做壞事收錢 means: “Do evil, then collect money.” This is a different world. Here, evil is not an occasional lapse, but the core business model. The actor is no longer a state official who sins; he is an outlaw, a gangster, a black-market sovereign whose very product is harm, fear, and control. He sells violence, information, false documents, rigged contracts. He does not wait for a bribe to twist the law; he creates the very situation that needs to be bought off. This is the world of the modern gang, the online scam syndicate, the coercive service provider whose only “service” is crime itself.

The shift from 收錢做壞事 to 做壞事收錢 is the shift from a sick system to a criminal system. In the first, the state still exists as an ideal, even if it is betrayed in practice. In the second, the state is gone, and the gang is the new state: a shadow government that runs on payoffs, punishments, and loyalty to the chain of command.

We see this everywhere. In politics, where parties are no longer ideological movements but machines that sell access, protection, and favours for money. In business, where companies don’t just cut corners with suppliers, but actively design traps — misleading contracts, hidden fees, forced arbitration — and then charge customers to escape them. In technology and media, where platforms enable harassment, fraud, or manipulation, then profit from the outrage, or from selling “protection” (verification, ads, moderation as a paid service).

What is truly terrifying is not just that people do bad things, but that society now treats 做壞事收錢 as a normal way to earn. The “gig economy” has become a perfect cover: “I’m not a criminal, I’m just completing a task.” Online scams, doxxing, targeted harassment, fake reviews, paid propaganda — all are reframed as “work” for which one is paid, even though each act is clearly harmful.

The deeper danger is cultural: when 收錢做壞事 becomes 做壞事收錢 in the public mind, people stop expecting fairness, honesty, or duty. They expect everything to be bought, and they learn to buy everything — justice, safety, reputation, even loyalty. Distrust becomes the default, and the only “trust” left is to one’s own side, one’s own gang.

And so, the old moral question “Is this right?” disappears, replaced by “Who pays, and how much?” The state, the party, the company, the family — all become transactional networks where relationships are contracts and principles are discounts. The only remaining “virtue” is loyalty to the group, measured in obedience and share of the take.

To recover, a society must first admit that it has crossed from corruption (收錢做壞事) into organized evil (做壞事收錢). It must punish not just the act, but the system that rewards it; not just the bribe-taker, but the market that sells injustice as a service. Only then can the distinction between serving and sinning, between earning and extorting, be restored — and the simple idea that one should not do evil, period, begin to mean something again.

2025年8月31日 星期日

A comment on the maid fine

 A comment on the maid fine


You know, you see all sorts of things in the paper these days. But every once in a while, something just hits you. Like this story about the maid in Singapore. Now, you hear about a lot of things. A guy steals a loaf of bread, he goes to jail. Someone robs a bank, he goes to jail. But this? This is something else entirely.

Here's a woman. A maid. She's 53 years old, been at it for decades. She's got her main job, she's working, she's doing what she's supposed to do. She's on her rest days, her days off, the days you're supposed to put your feet up and maybe watch a little television. But she doesn't. She goes and cleans a few houses for a few hours, just trying to make a little extra money. Coffee money, as the fellow who wrote this put it.

And for that, for trying to make a little extra money on her own time, they fine her $13,000. Thirteen thousand dollars. That's a lot of money. The person she worked for, the one who hired her illegally, they got a fine too. Seven thousand dollars. The person who paid her for her work, they got fined less than she did. It's like fining the person who took the job more than the person who offered it. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it?

And the government says it's about "protecting workers." Protecting them from what? From working? From making a little extra cash on their day off? It's like they're saying, "Look, we've designed a system for you. A system where you work for one person, for a certain amount of money, and you don't even think about stepping outside that line. We'll decide how you spend your time, even your own time." It's a funny kind of protection, isn't it? 🤷‍♂️


They talk about how this woman didn't have a valid work pass for part-time work. And I suppose that's true. The law's the law. But sometimes, you have to look at the law and ask yourself, "Does this make any sense?" We bring in foreign workers because, as they say, "Singaporeans don't want these jobs." We pay them, and then we make it so they can't even try to earn a little more. You see all these commercials on television about the hardworking spirit, and the value of a good day's work. They praise it, they celebrate it. As long as it's the right kind of work, I guess. As long as it's within the system.

This woman worked for four years for this one person. Four years. Both of them were happy with the arrangement. There was no exploitation, no one was complaining. The only person complaining was the system itself. The prosecutor even called the fine "quite kind." Kind? Taking 35 months of a person's side income? Taking five to seven months of their full-time salary? It's not a lot of money for some people, but it's everything for others.

And what's the message here? The message seems to be, "Know your place. Don't try to get ahead. Don't even think about improving your situation." It's a rigged game, they say. And I suppose it is. But when you look at it, it makes you wonder what the point of the game is in the first place. You work hard, you follow the rules, and then you get punished for working too hard. It just doesn't add up. It really doesn't.