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2026年4月14日 星期二

The Gravity of Greed: Why the Poor Stay Groundless

The Gravity of Greed: Why the Poor Stay Groundless

Wealth has its own gravitational pull. In physics, the more massive an object, the more it attracts everything around it. In the "market," this translates to a cynical reality: it is incredibly expensive to be poor, and almost effortless for the wealthy to stay rich.

The three advantages—Information, Resources, and Connections—are not just tools; they are the walls of a fortress. Consider Information. In the digital age, we are told data is democratic. It’s a lie. The elite don't just read the news; they influence the people who write it. By the time a "market trend" reaches the commoner’s smartphone, the cream has already been skimmed. This is the information asymmetry that turns the market into a casino where the house always knows the next card.

Then there is the Resource cushion. For the man with a single "錐" (awl/drill), one mistake means starvation. He cannot afford to be "disruptive" or "innovative" because failure is terminal. Meanwhile, the capital-heavy player can fail ten times, treat it as a "tax write-off," and strike gold on the eleventh. The system doesn't reward the hardest worker; it rewards the one who can survive the most mistakes.

Finally, Connections. This is the invisible plumbing of power. While the masses compete in a "meritocracy," the elite operate in a "proximity-ocracy." It’s not about what you know, but whose dinner party you attended. This is the darker side of human nature: we are tribal creatures who prefer a familiar face over a superior talent.

When these three forces combine, the "water pool" doesn't just flow; it creates a vortex that leaves the bottom bone-dry.



2026年4月9日 星期四

The Luxury of Being a Nobody: A Modern Ghost Story


The Luxury of Being a Nobody: A Modern Ghost Story

In the grand theater of social status, we are taught to climb. But while the masses scramble toward the glowing neon sign of "Fame," the truly wise are trying to find the exit. The user’s hierarchy is a masterclass in modern survival: the First Class—Wealthy and Anonymous—are the true masters of the universe. They own the world, but the world doesn't own their image.

The tragedy of the "Second Class" (The Rich and Famous) is that they are golden prisoners. Every meal, every scandal, and every tax return is a public feast. They have the money, but they’ve traded their soul’s privacy for it.

But the most cutting irony lies in the "Fourth Class"—the Famous and Broke. In the age of social media, we have created a factory of Fourth Class citizens: influencers with a million followers and a zero-dollar bank balance, known by everyone but owned by the algorithm. They have the burden of a public face without the capital to protect it.

To "dream" of becoming the "Third Class"—Poor and Anonymous—is the ultimate cynical rebellion. It is the desire to be a "Ghost in the Machine." In a world where every move is tracked and every opinion is archived, having nothing to lose and no one watching you is a terrifyingly pure form of liberty. It’s not about giving up; it’s about checking out of a game that was rigged from the start.



2026年4月8日 星期三

The Meatware Exception: Why Jevons Fails the Working Class

 

The Meatware Exception: Why Jevons Fails the Working Class

It is a delicious irony of our age. When coal gets efficient, we use more coal. When data gets efficient, we use more data. But when human labor gets efficient, we use fewer humans. Why does the Jevons Paradox suddenly stop working when the "resource" being optimized is a person in a cubicle?

The answer lies in the cold, hard logic of ownership and substitution. You see, Jevons Paradox triggers because the costof the resource drops, stimulating massive new demand. If electricity gets cheaper, I want more of it because it improves my life. But if a worker gets "more efficient"—thanks to AI or automation—they aren't becoming a cheaper, more desirable resource for the market to consume more of. They are becoming redundant. Unlike coal, a human being is a "multi-purpose resource" that comes with annoying overheads: health insurance, lunch breaks, and the inconvenient tendency to ask for a raise.

In the eyes of a corporation, a human is not a resource to be "saved" and reallocated; they are a cost center to be eliminated. When technology improves, we don't use the "saved" human time to let people write poetry or work more deeply. We simply replace the human component with a digital one. In the capitalist business model, the "efficiency dividend" of human labor doesn't go back into hiring more humans—it goes straight into the pockets of the shareholders. We’ve managed to create a world where everything gets consumed more voraciously as it gets cheaper, except for the one thing that actually needs a paycheck to survive.



The Autism Gold Rush: Buying the Ticket to a Systemic Nightmare

 

The Autism Gold Rush: Buying the Ticket to a Systemic Nightmare

The statistics are staggering: 3.2% of American children are now diagnosed within the autism spectrum. What was once a rare clinical diagnosis has morphed into a sprawling, multi-billion-dollar industry. We are witnessing a classic case of "diagnostic creep." The goalposts have been moved so wide that they now encompass half the playing field. Why? Because in a hyper-capitalist medical system, a diagnosis isn't just a clinical label—it’s a Golden Ticket. Without it, you get no insurance coverage, no school support, and no therapeutic resources.

This has created a perverse incentive structure. Private equity firms have smelled the blood in the water, aggressively acquiring ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) clinics. When therapy is billed by the hour, the "business model" is simple: keep the child in the chair for as long as possible. We are seeing children subjected to 40 hours a week of intensive therapy—essentially a full-time job for a toddler—often delivered by underpaid, high-turnover staff who have barely more training than a barista.

In the UK, the crisis manifests as the SEND (Special Educational Needs and Disabilities) explosion. Schools are buckling under the weight of "Education, Health and Care" (EHC) plans. Are we actually seeing a biological epidemic, or are we mis-defining the struggle of being human? By pathologizing every quirk and behavioral outlier, we are turning childhood into a medical condition. We aren't just "helping" kids; we are branding them, shackling families to lifelong state dependency, and ensuring that the only people truly "cured" are the shareholders of the healthcare conglomerates.



The Eternal Teenager and the Cult of the "Self-Made" Ghost

 

The Eternal Teenager and the Cult of the "Self-Made" Ghost

We are living in the era of the "Primary Adult"—a polite term for grown men and women who still live in their childhood bedrooms while contemplating the cosmos. While the surface narrative is all about "self-actualization" and "finding one's soul," the engine underneath is fueled entirely by the Parent Bank. The data doesn't lie: we are entering the greatest wealth transfer in human history. With $15 trillion to $84 trillion set to change hands in the US, and £5.5 trillion in the UK, the Millennials are the "Inheritor Generation."

This massive safety net creates a peculiar species: the Eternal Youth. They are the "artists" with no talent, the "slashers" with no skills, and the "free spirits" who spend their thirties "finding themselves" on their parents' dime. As university professors will tell you, the number of students chasing a "creative dream" with zero pragmatic backup has skyrocketed. If these "souls" had no inheritance, they’d be finding their "freedom" in a 9-to-5 cubicle real fast.

The most delicious irony? The silence. In a capitalist culture obsessed with the "self-made" myth, no one wants to admit the down payment came from Dad. They say, "I bought a house," not "My parents subsidized my existence." We cling to the lie of individual merit because the alternative—admitting we are just beneficiaries of a historical lottery—is far too bruising for the ego.



2026年4月7日 星期二

The Great Decoupling: When the Engine Left the Caboose Behind

 The Great Decoupling: When the Engine Left the Caboose Behind

For the better part of the mid-20th century, the American economy operated on a simple, almost sacred contract: if you worked harder and produced more, you got paid more. Between 1948 and 1973, productivity and real wages moved in a beautiful, synchronized dance. Economists Claudia Goldin and Robert Margo called this "The Great Compression"—a rare historical moment where the fruits of growth were squeezed downward toward the masses.


Then, around 1973, the music stopped. The lines on the graph snapped apart like a broken fan belt. By the end of 2025, productivity had surged to nearly three times its 1970 level, while real hourly compensation crawled along, barely reaching 1.7 times that same baseline. The engine of the American economy kept accelerating, but the workers in the caboose were left uncoupled, watching the train disappear into the distance.


Why did the cord cut? If you ask Thomas Piketty or Emmanuel Saez, they’ll point to a tax code that began favoring capital over labor with surgical precision. Others cite the slow death of unions, a frozen federal minimum wage, and the siren song of deregulation that began in the late 70s. But perhaps the most cynical—and delicious—theory comes from Daron Acemoglu’s Eclipse of Rent-Sharing. He suggests the rise of the MBA-educated manager shifted the corporate mindset from "sharing prosperity" to "squeezing the lemon." The modern manager isn't a builder; they are an extractor.


Of course, the "technicians" love to argue about the rulers used to measure this misery. They claim that if you swap CPI for the GDP deflator or count healthcare benefits as "pay," the gap shrinks. But even with the most creative accounting, the post-2000 reality is undeniable: the worker is producing a mountain of gold and being handed a handful of gravel. It seems the "invisible hand" of the market has become remarkably visible when it comes to keeping wages down.

The Salty Sludge of Progress: Peanuts, Coke, and the Death of Leisure

 

The Salty Sludge of Progress: Peanuts, Coke, and the Death of Leisure

There is something profoundly cynical about the "Farmer’s Coke." We romanticize it now as a quirky Southern tradition—dropping a packet of salted peanuts into a glass bottle of Coca-Cola—but its origin is a testament to the brutal efficiency of the industrial grind. Born in the 1920s, this concoction wasn't created by a gourmet looking for a "flavor profile"; it was invented by men with coal-stained hands who didn't have the time or the hygiene to stop for a proper meal.

It is the ultimate "one-handed" snack. In the history of labor, the state and the corporation have always loved tools that allow a man to feed himself without letting go of the plow or the wrench. Human nature dictates that we find pleasure where we can, so we combined the sugar high of the capitalist's favorite syrup with the protein of the earth. The result is a sweet-and-salty sludge that kept the wheels of progress turning.

Modern influencers on TikTok have "rediscovered" it, treating it like a daring culinary frontier. They film their reactions to the fizzing salt, unaware that they are LARPing the desperation of the Great Depression. It’s a perfect metaphor for our age: taking the survival tactics of the overworked past and rebranding them as "nostalgic trends."

History is a circle of salt and sugar. We started by drinking this because we had to work; now we drink it because we want to feel "authentic" while sitting in air-conditioned offices. We’ve traded the dirty hands for sterilized screens, but the need for a quick, brain-numbing hit of dopamine remains exactly the same.


2026年4月4日 星期六

The Nobel Art of Being Confidently Wrong

 

The Nobel Art of Being Confidently Wrong

History is littered with the corpses of empires, but the library is littered with the corpses of bad forecasts. Paul Samuelson, the titan of modern economics, spent decades serving as the unintentional court jester of the Cold War. His textbook, the "bible" of the field, consistently predicted that the Soviet Union would eventually overtake the United States. In 1961, he thought it might happen by 1984. By 1980, he moved the goalposts to 2012. By 1991, the USSR didn't have an economy—it didn't even have a country.

Samuelson’s failure wasn't a lack of IQ; it was a lack of cynicism. He looked at Soviet "data"—which was essentially fiction written by terrified bureaucrats—and saw a machine. He believed that because a command economy could forcibly divert capital from "frivolous" consumer goods into "productive" heavy industry, it would inevitably win. It’s the Nurhaci model, but without the self-awareness. He assumed that if you force a nation to build enough "iron tools," you’ll eventually become the richest guy on the block.

But Samuelson forgot that humans aren't variables in a "thin model." While the Soviets were hitting their quotas for tractors and steel, their people were waiting in bread lines. They were building a massive arsenal on a foundation of rot. He praised the socialist command economy for being "proof it can thrive" just two years before the Berlin Wall fell. It turns out that when you prioritize "investment" over "incentives," you don’t get a superpower; you get a very large, very hungry museum of obsolete technology. The darker side of human nature teaches us what Samuelson’s math couldn't: people will work for their own dreams, but they will eventually sabotage yours.


2026年4月1日 星期三

The Algorithm of Anxiety: Winning at the Game of Scarcity

 

The Algorithm of Anxiety: Winning at the Game of Scarcity

In the high-pressure world of the Littlefield Simulation Game, business school students are given a taste of what it’s like to be a minor deity of a small manufacturing plant. The paper Winning Strategy for the Littlefield Simulation Game: A System Dynamics Approach is a fascinating, if somewhat cynical, look at how we attempt to impose order on the inherent chaos of demand. Using a "system dynamics" model, the authors treat a factory not as a collection of people and machines, but as a series of "stocks" and "flows"—a mathematical abstraction where the only thing that matters is the "Daily Cash" balance.

The strategy reveals a fundamental truth about modern industrialism: it is a constant battle against the "bottleneck." In the simulation, Station 3 is the recurring villain, the point where the process chokes and the "Lead Time" begins to swell. The authors' solution isn't to hope for the best; it’s to use aggressive "Capacity Expansion"—buying more machines the moment the cash ratio allows it. It is the ultimate capitalist reflex: when in doubt, out-spend the problem. Historically, this mirrors the industrial revolution’s obsession with throughput, where the human element is simply a variable in a "Job Release" equation.

Perhaps the most cynical takeaway is the "Quitting Strategy." In the final days of the simulation, the authors suggest a "conservative" approach—stopping all capital investment and simply milking the remaining orders for pure profit. It’s a perfect metaphor for the "harvest" phase of a business lifecycle, or perhaps for late-stage capitalism itself: once you’ve extracted everything you can from the infrastructure, you stop maintaining it and walk away with the cash. The simulation isn't just teaching operations management; it’s teaching the cold, hard logic of resource depletion and the art of knowing exactly when to let the machines stop huming.



2026年3月31日 星期二

The Velvet Bulwark: Why Europe Bought Its Way Out of Revolution

 

The Velvet Bulwark: Why Europe Bought Its Way Out of Revolution

If you want to understand why a German CEO and a French factory worker both pay taxes that would make an American billionaire faint, you have to realize that the European welfare state wasn't built by starry-eyed idealists. It was built by terrified pragmatists. After 1945, Europe wasn't just a graveyard of buildings; it was a graveyard of ideologies. Laissez-faire capitalism had died in the breadlines of the 1930s, and Fascism had died in the rubble of Berlin.

The "Golden Age" of high taxes and universal healthcare wasn't a victory for socialism—it was a hostile takeover of socialist ideas to save capitalism from itself.

1. The Fear Factor: Poverty as a National Security Threat

In 1945, the biggest threat to Western Europe wasn't a Nazi resurgence; it was the guy in the apartment next door voting Communist. The Great Depression had proven that if you leave people hungry and unemployed, they don't just "bootstrap" themselves—they buy a brown shirt or a red flag and start a riot.

The Marshall Plan and the subsequent welfare reforms were essentially a geopolitical bribe. The U.S. and European elites realized that if they didn't provide a "National Minimum," Stalin would provide a "People's Republic." High taxes became the "protection money" the middle class paid to ensure their houses weren't nationalized by a Soviet-backed mob.

2. The "War-Tested" State: From Tanks to Tonsillectomies

Before WWII, the idea that a government could run an entire economy was considered a leftist fantasy. Then came the war. Governments suddenly managed everything: what you ate (rationing), where you worked (conscription), and what factories produced.

When the smoke cleared, the public looked at their leaders and said, "If you can organize 10,000 planes to bomb Dresden, you can surely organize a hospital to fix my grandmother’s hip." The war provided the proof of concept for state capacity. The transition from "War Planning" to "Welfare Planning" was a remarkably short logical leap.

3. The Grand Bargain: Christian Democracy

In countries like Germany and Italy, the welfare state wasn't just a leftist project. The Christian Democrats—essentially the center-right—embraced it. Influenced by Catholic social teaching, they sought a "Third Way" between the heartless markets of the U.S. and the soul-crushing collectivism of the USSR.

By making welfare universal (available to everyone, not just the poor), they turned the middle class into the system's fiercest defenders. Once you give a middle-class voter a "free" university education for their kids, they will never, ever let you take it away—no matter how high the tax bracket goes.

The Cynical Conclusion

Europe’s welfare states were born of fear, enabled by trauma, and sustained by a growth dividend that made the high price tag invisible for thirty years. It was a pragmatic survival strategy. The U.S. escaped this fate largely because it wasn't bombed, its communist threat stayed on the other side of the ocean, and it never had to rebuild its soul from a "clean slate."


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.