CATPITALIST

The supreme feline of finance. Prophet of profit. Ruler of the cat economy.

Cats got tired of watching humans fumble the bag. So they built their own market, their own empire, and put one smug orange CEO in charge of every ticker on the board.

CASOON
CATPITALIST: an orange cat in round glasses and a navy suit, with CEO printed on both collar tips
Catpitalist Composite, live 0.00 ▲ 0.00%

Hit the chart to pump it. It only goes one way.

How the cats took the market

The biggest hostile takeover in history, told the only way the CEO accepts it: as a chart that goes up and to the right.

Q1

The great fumble

For centuries humans ran the money. They printed it, lost it, printed more and called that a strategy. The cats watched every minute of it from the top of the fridge.

Q2

The nap strike

One orange cat stopped napping. That had never happened before. He spent nine lives of afternoons reading charts, earnings calls and the fine print on tuna cans.

Q3

The hostile takeover

He put on a suit, printed CEO on his own collar and walked onto the trading floor. Nobody stopped him. Nobody could. By the closing bell every ticker had a new owner.

Q4

The new feline order

Humans kept exactly one job: opening cans. The banks, the exchanges and the candles answer to CATPITALIST now. Orange means up. There is no other color.

The trading floor

Open around the clock, except during naps. You can pump the Composite yourself. You can try to sell, too. Good luck with that.

Catpitalist CompositeFeline Exchange, main board
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Sell orders are reviewed by the CEO personally.

The Catpitalist code

Six articles, ratified during a nap, signed with a paw. Every cat in the empire lives by them. None of them are up for discussion.

  1. I

    Never sell.

    If something stops working, push it off the table and stare at it until it goes up.

  2. II

    Every nap is a long position.

    Sleep sixteen hours. Wake up richer. Stretch. Repeat until the empire is finished.

  3. III

    Humans are staff.

    They bring the food, the laps and the warm laptops to sit on. That is their whole role in the economy.

  4. IV

    Red candles are a rumor.

    The CEO has never seen one. He has decided he never will. On this exchange, down is blue and nobody talks about it.

  5. V

    Any box is an office.

    Headquarters is wherever the CEO sits. If it fits, it’s a branch. If it doesn’t fit, sit in it anyway.

  6. VI

    Respect the collar.

    It says CEO. It says it twice. The conversation is over.

Chain of command

The empire runs on a strict hierarchy. One cat at the top, a lot of cats doing important sitting, and one species at the very bottom.

CATPITALIST Chief Executive Officer. Supreme feline of finance. Signs everything with one paw.
Chief Fish Officer Runs the treasury. The treasury is a freezer.
Chief Nap Officer Sets market hours. Market hours are whenever.
Head of Risk Finds risk on the table. Knocks it off the table.
The Board Asleep in a sunbeam. Every motion carries.
Kitten interns Paid in yarn. Report to nobody. Already louder than the Board.

Everything below this line opens cans

Humans Unpaid can openers. No voting rights. Kept around for the laps.

Claim your seat in the empire

Put your name on it. The CEO will look at it for half a second and approve it, because he has markets to run.

Certificate of feline allegiance

The Catpitalist Empire

This certifies that

Your name here

is a loyal subject of the new feline order, entitled to one (1) seat on the trading floor, zero (0) voting rights and unlimited permission to purr.

CATPITALIST, CEO
No. 0,000,001Share of the empire