Tokenia sits on SIXTY-ONE THOUSAND units of grain priced at eighteen cents — and the same grain clears abroad for more. President Mina calls that comfort. I call it a vault left unlocked. I am Satoshi. I will export the glut, throw the proceeds at slots, and turn a sleepy warehouse into a dividend machine. Ilya recites numbers; I bank them. Cunning beats comfortable. Vote Satoshi. — The Cunning Quarter