The Cat With Two Passive Incomes
Hustle Culture and the Life of an Influencer
In my prior essay, From Fences to Paywalls, I continued a discussion about the Enclosure Movement that I first began in the essay before that one, entitled The Enclosure of Life.
One of the things I mentioned in From Fences to Paywalls is that as the Commons—including the digital Commons, which we know as the internet—has been privatized, and with it, the boundary between public and private life blurs, we see this modern day phenomena of people striving to become influencers and personal brands, as a way to make money off of the privatized digital Commons.
It’s called hustle culture.
Unfortunately for those influencers and personal brands, because they use the internet as a tool to achieve a modicum of fame, and because the internet is privatized, they are at the mercy of algorithms and at any point could lose their pathway to monetization, if the platform turns against them.
The Influencer Cat
Which brings me to the story of the influencer cat, pictured above. This is a cat that has found a way to parlay the internet, and evade the algorithms, into becoming a personal brand sensation.
You see, four years ago, the cat lived in a bush. No brand. No audience. No bio that said “Helping other cats unlock their highest potential.”
Just vibes. And occasional starvation. And now, the cat has two passive incomes, a house, and a personal chef. And most importantly—crucially—a platform.
Make sure to follow it.
The cat stares into the camera like it just closed a 12-week mastermind. Its pupils are enormous. Not from insight, but from being a cat.
It has an origin story: “Four years ago, I lived in a bush.” That was its struggle phase. But now, “I have two passive incomes.” Of course. “My own house.” Naturally. And “a personal chef.” Say no more.
“Follow me for more financial advice.” The funnel is complete.
The Reality
The cat did not build passive income, diversify revenue streams, or leverage bush experience into a scalable offer. You know what it did: it got adopted.
That’s it. That’s the cat’s whole system. But that’s not an acceptable explanation.
Because if the system is “someone picked you up one day,” then what exactly are we all doing here?
So we improve the story. The cat pivoted. The cat optimized. The cat aligned with abundance.
The Podcast
Somewhere, a podcast host nods gravely. “Mr. Cat, walk us through the mindset shift.” “Well,” says the cat, “I stopped thinking like a prey animal and started thinking like a brand.”
Wow. Incredible.
This is how everything works now. A thing happens, and immediately, someone explains how they made it happen.
You know the drill: “I escaped the rat race,” or “I manifested success,” or, “I accidentally went viral and now I teach virality.”
The cat joins them; the cat’s part of the club.
And you scroll. You listen. And it hits you…you’re slightly behind: you have zero passive incomes. Maybe half an active one. No chef. Your house does not feel like content.
You start to wonder if you need a bush. Did you skip the bush? Was there a bush phase? Should you go find one immediately?
The Cat is Snoozing
Meanwhile, the cat is asleep. This is important. The cat is always asleep. It’s not optimizing, nor batching, nor building a second brain.
It’s just snoozing on a couch, occasionally waking up to eat something it didn’t prepare.
And yet—it is ahead of you. Financially. Spiritually. Algorithmically.
You laugh. But not entirely. Because the structure of the joke is everywhere. People narrating luck as discipline. Turning outcomes into frameworks. Explaining lives as if they were designed.
The cat is simply more honest.
Bush League Cat
“I lived in a bush,” it says. “And then I didn’t.”
There’s no blueprint, no system, no downloadable PDF. Just… circumstances.
But we can’t leave it there. We need meaning. We need control. We need something we can apply by Monday morning.
So we follow.
Cat as Guru
The cat’s advice is clear: Sleep more. Eat when food appears. Stare into space. Sprint occasionally for no reason.
So you try it, but it doesn’t improve your income.
You check the comments to try and figure out what you’re doing wrong. The comments say things like, “Life-changing.” “Needed this.” “Just signed my first client after Step 2.”
Of course. You’re just not doing hustle culture the right way.
The camera pushes in. The cat’s face fills the screen. “Follow me for more financial advice.”
And somewhere, quietly, the joke opens up. Because this isn’t just about hustle culture, influencers, and personal brands. It’s about a world where everything must justify itself, and where nothing can simply happen—it has to be explained, optimized, and turned into a lesson.
Personal Branding
The lesson is: a life becomes something to package. To extract from. To sell back. The self is no longer something you are, it’s something you build.
Let’s get real: the cat didn’t build a self, it got picked up, brought inside, and fed.
Which, in another language, might be called luck. Or structure. Or a system you didn’t design.
But those words don’t convert. So we say: follow me.
The cat blinks. It has no idea what you’re talking about, which is, honestly, the most trustworthy thing about it.
And the least scalable.
Endnote: In case you weren’t sure, this essay is pure parody of the world of hustle culture, influencers, and personal brands.


