I'll take El Baradei for a thousand

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  1. I’m not really a betting man. I have this uncanny ability. If we’re playing poker for toothpicks, each of six players with 10,000 toothpicks, I will win enough toothpicks to build a single-bedroom home. In the event pennies replace the toothpicks, by the third deal I will be unable to ante in a penny-ante game.
    That said, considering their respective track records, though, I think I’ll have to bet 1,000-toothpicks against anything that has the United Nations attached to it.
    Kind of like Maynard G. Krebs famous line about work, “Gambling? I deny its existence. “

  2. The whole situation has a mythological/fabulous (i.e., ‘like a fable’) tenor. The Big Bad Wolf claims he is learning to huff & puff but promises to use his breath only to generate wind for power generation. Some little piggies get nervous because any Wolf with huffability is a potential threat to their straw homes, while others scoff, “You can’t blow down my house anyway; my anti-wolfbreath brick will blow your huffs out of the sky before they even reach my airspace.”
    Meanwhile, the Boy who Cried Wolf sees an opportunity to get some attention, so he tells Chicken Little that *he* heard the Wolf was planning to make the sky fall. She repeats the story and properly embellishes it with additional rumors that the huffs have already been tested on straw houses in Spamsnackistan, thus whipping the masses into a frenzy.
    Meanwhile, Cassandra gazes into her crystal ball and sees that yes, some part of the story is true, but no one believes her, or they can’t separate the true prophesy from the rest of the noise.
    (Sorry if this is duplicative; I tried to post a comment earlier but I think it vaporized: Clearly the work of Spamsnackistan rebels.)

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