A cattle dealer once drove some bulls to the slaughterhouse. And the butcher came at night with his sharp knife.
“Let us close ranks and jack up this executioner on our horns,” suggested one of the bulls.
“If you please, in what way is the butcher any worse than the dealer who drove us hither with his cudgel?” replied the bulls, who had received their political education in Manuilsky’s institute [The Comintern].
“But we shall be able to attend to the dealer as well afterwards!”
“Nothing doing,” replied the bulls, firm in their principles, to the counselor. “You are trying, from the left, to shield our enemies—you are a social-butcher yourself.”
And they refused to close ranks.