Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport lounge in Atlanta. One is a native Indian, another is a Cowboy, the third is a fundamental Arab Muslim student.
To break the silence, the native Indian clears his throat and softly says: “At one time here, my people were many, but sadly, now we are few.”
The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward: “Once my people were few, he sneers, “and now we are many. Why do you suppose that is?”
The Texas cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a smooth drawl,
“That’s ’cause we ain’t played Cowboys and Muslims yet . . . but I do believe it’s a-comin’..”