When my little brother and I were young, we used to get otoshidama money around New Year's from relatives or close friends of the family. Since I am four years older than my brother, there was a significant difference between how much he received and how much I received. I got more, and I remember, with some pleasure, how unfair my brother thought this system was.
I was comparatively rich and I had done nothing really to deserve it. I took it for granted that I would receive this otoshidama each year, and so I would spend it as soon as I got it, on stationery or junk food or something like that. I would spend too much too quickly, and in a few weeks I would usually have no money left.
Easy come, easy go.
Now imagine me in Las Vegas or Atlantic City. Effortlessly I win round after round. Cash flows into my pockets. The other gamblers look on in envy. (Remember, this is purely hypothetical.) A few hours later, the money has all gone, lost as quickly as it was won. How? The usual scenario would have someone putting all his money on one bet and losing everything (easy come, easy go), but in my case, I'd probably blow it allpigging out at the dessert buffet.
I grew up among horses and riders. I've seen people betting on races. I've seen people win money, I've seen people lose money. And I've also seen people winning and then having to spend all their money on buying the others at the riding club a round of beers and ending up with even less money than they started off with. Once again, easy come, easy go.
Curiously, some of these games of chance actually do require a certain amount of hard work to win — for example, finding out about horses and honing your skills at calculating probability and that sort of thing. And yet when you win money because of your ability and then lose it, people will probably still use "easy come, easy go." All money won from gambling is thought to be easy money.