I keep seeing people—not deep thinkers, mind you—fall into the same trap.
“So-and-so must be smart… look how much money they have.”
It sounds harmless at first. Almost intuitive. But there’s a question that rarely follows, and one that would stop most of them cold:
If wealth is the only valid metric of intelligence…
then poverty must be proof of stupidity.
Because that’s the logical conclusion. Not a distortion—just the other side of the same coin.
I was around twenty when I first pushed back on this idea and paid the price for it.
It was Thanksgiving. My sister’s place in Florida. Her father sat me down, the way older men do when they’re about to hand you what they think is wisdom.
“What are you going to do with your life?”
I told him the truth. I didn’t know yet. But I knew I wanted to pursue happiness first. I wanted to give music a real shot.
You would’ve thought I told him I planned to self-destruct.
“Get serious,” he snapped. “You need to think about money. About success. You’re smart—don’t waste it on music.”
That word—smart—didn’t sit right with me the way he used it. Like it had a price tag attached.
A younger version of me would’ve swallowed it. Nodded. Played along.
But not that day.
“I don’t think money is the same thing as success,” I said. “We need it, sure. It helps. But it’s not the only metric that matters.”
That was enough to trigger something deeper.
“You’re wrong,” he fired back. “If you don’t make money, if you don’t build your patrimony, you’ll be a nobody.”
That line… that was the one that crossed it.
So I answered calmly.
“I disagree. And so should you. Because by that logic, Jesus was the biggest loser who ever lived—he died with nothing. And neither of us actually believes that.”
Dinner ended right there.
Not officially. But spiritually? Flatlined.
He didn’t have a response—just anger. I was labeled immature, unread, unqualified to speak. Then came the prescription: read three books before ever speaking to him again.
I let it go. There was no victory to be won in that moment—just more damage to an already dying evening.
It’s been twenty-six years since that night.
And the fallacy hasn’t aged a day.
“He must be smart—look how much money he’s made.”
A sentence with all the intellectual rigor of a fried chicken recipe buried in a forum thread.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to see something even more uncomfortable.
A lot of wealth isn’t earned the way people like to imagine.
Luck isn’t merit.
Inheritance isn’t merit.
Nepotism isn’t merit.
And if we’re being honest, neither is exploitation dressed up as “hustle.”
Yes, there are exceptions. But they’re just that—exceptions.
Many of the most powerful people didn’t climb. They were placed. Or they cut corners most of us wouldn’t dare justify.
If you want to call that intelligence, then we’re not even having the same conversation—we’re just negotiating definitions.
I know I’m not alone in rejecting this.
There are plenty of people who don’t equate money with intelligence, or wealth with virtue.
But here’s the uncomfortable part:
The people who do believe that…
they vote too.
I’ll leave you with something that’s stuck with me.
A study—done in the United States—showed participants a simple setup. One glass of liquid was poured into a taller, slimmer glass. No tricks. No deception. Everyone watched it happen.
Thirty percent of people said the taller glass had more liquid.
Same content. Different shape.
Different conclusion.
And every time I think about that, I land on the same realization:
Yeah… this is why we are where we are.
—MenO
