Opinion | Opinião


People are dying. People are fired. People are broke. People are numbers.

The first sentence refers to the pandemic. The other three are day-to-day economics, now stressed by the first one.

I am neither an economist, a capitalist, a communist, a business manager or an union delegate. Therefore I cherished the dream of this intensification of the last three sentences forcing a change to the paradigm of global economy. Reality has another agenda.

On TV the other day an expert said businesses must be competitive or fall. Small and big business managers said there is no margin for a raise on minimum wages. Sacking is mainstream and governments shrug beatifically while giving sermons on not having illusions. The vision on unemployment keeps the same. Are jobs lacking? Too bad. Life goes on to the employed. The others are cast to get in line for social welfare whilst business managers refuse to both paying taxes and keeping jobs. The reason? Businesses must be competitive.

How many businesses are based on offshores and export their job vacancies? How many business headquarters are nothing but post office boxes? How many workers are enslaved on countries with no human rights? Why are these numbers seldom told or not told at all?

Politicians and business managers make haste to discredit such questions by labeling them as extremist, radical and demagogical. The pandemic will not end this. When catastrophe occurs, people in power do not come to their senses. They will only increase their efforts to maintain power.

Pandeconomics means the stressing of people being fired and getting blamed for not working. They will continue to be labelled as parasites by the ones who fired them so that taxes for social welfare are cut. Social classes become only three. Bosses, workers and unemployed. In other words, extremely rich, survivors and extremely poor.

Personal | Pessoal


I like writing. Fiction, essays, opinion articles, you name it. I’ve learned the trade of putting words together and I love it. I am particularly fond of my language, as it happens with anyone who loves words. One gazes at melody, harmony, rhythm and meaning, taken on a twister of sensation and images that gives a whole new value to life and humanity.

Among my job prospections is writing opinion articles and chronicles to newspapers. One more brick to my castles in the air. I would also like to illustrate articles in newspapers and magazines. Keeping fake modesties aside, I could do a pretty effective work on both areas, writing and illustration.

So here is the question. How do I get in?

The only thing I’m asking in return is enough income to my surviving expenses. We live in a dog world, I know. Employment is becoming a luxury. To the most basic tasks employers ask for one year of previous experience, minimum. Some “offer” professional internships, which is the modern word for slavery. I am aware of all that. I am aware that no matter how competent I am or might be, I have no chance. Other variables are at stake which go beyond my control.

Nevertheless, I’m in the mood to feed this illusion for a while. I want to be paid for typing my words on a newspaper.