Those uncomfortable in this tent on the horns of a dilemma

A buffalo and rhino walked into a wild party in a big tent.

All of a sudden, a guy wearing a furry hat with horns emerged, getting everybody’s attention.

“You know what offends me?” the old buffalo huffed. “That the media pick up on one guy with horns and all of a sudden, we’re all on the same team. As if we — he and I — were in cahoots. I don’t know that guy! I don’t approve of what he does! But according to those who don’t agree with me, I am complicit with whatever he does.”

The rhino nodded knowingly. Then, suddenly aware he was in the same tent and also had horns, he self-consciously grabbed a drink.

“Things are changing, and not for the better. Guys like me were a symbol of America,” the buffalo said, stomping his hoof. “Back when I was on the nickel, things were clear-cut.”

“In fairness, that was a while ago,” the rhino said. He had thought buffaloes were endangered, but looking around he could see they were doing quite well.

The buffalo kept on.

“Sure, America went through tough times, but we got through it and came out stronger,” he snorted. “We spent decades protecting our freedom, our way of life. Now they want to threaten all that with socialism.”

“There’s a lot of talk about socialism,” the rhino said uncomfortably. “And I know Venezuela and Cuba are the cautionary tales. But outside of socialized medicine, classic socialism hasn’t survived. Look at the Russian and Chinese economies. They’re almost capitalists. Times change.”

The buffalo chewed on that, then dismissed it with a grunt. At the other end of the bar, a bull bought drinks for his table.

“Look at that Wall Street character,” the buffalo said. “He’s a twitchy fellow when things get dicey, but he appears to be in high clover now. That’s good news for me. Things aren’t perfect, but when he’s doing well, things are good for all of us.”

“Well … maybe not that 47 percent Mitt Romney talked about,” the rhino mumbled, taking a quick sip of his drink.

“He helps them, too,” the buffalo continued, getting in the rhino’s face. “It trickles down!” “Yeah,” the rhino said, “but —” “You know,” the buffalo interrupted, “you are sounding like you’re not really on the same page as the rest of us in this tent. Maybe you’re not really one of us and you don’t believe in the same things we do. What did you say your name was again?”

Feeling threatened, the rhino put some distance between himself and the buffalo. He thought about leaving, but couldn’t think of where to go. He found a group of like-minded rhinos putting their glass containers in a recycling bin.

“Things are changing, and not for the better. I thought this tent was big enough for all of us,” one said. “But I’m getting bad-vibed at every turn, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut. You’d think cooler heads would prevail, that they’d want us here to keep the party going.”

Across the tent, the guy with the hat stumbled into one of the poles holding it up, causing a stir. Still, nobody asked him to leave.

“This party’s getting out of hand,” the rhino said, “and it just might be time to evolve.”