SUITDOGNobody knows where the suit came from. He was a puppy, and then he was a professional. No transition. One day he's chewing a shoe, the next he's reaching into his jacket like he's about to close on a building.
He doesn't chase balls. He chases upside. He looked at the whole market, the whole S&P, every ticker blinking red and green, and he did the only reasonable thing a dog in a suit can do.
He said: why not we send the suitdog.
So here he is. A dog. In a suit. A mascot for the Robinhood trenches — the place where regular people go to fight the tape with a phone and too much conviction. He's their guy now. Serious face. Tiny paws. Big responsibilities.
An anonymous suit. Seven hundred thousand of them, somewhere. Nobody counted. He wouldn't tell you if you asked. That's the whole bit.