JACK IN THE WONDERLAND OF WOE

I fell asleep reading the latest Harris International poll of the world's most popular leaders. The top three were Barack Obama, Dalai Lama, and Hillary Clinton; the bottom three were Ahmadinejad, Gadhafi, and Hu Jintao. When I awoke, I realized I had slipped down through a rabbit hole and into the Wonderland of Woe.

Wandering through the dark, misty streets of its capitol city I first came upon a loud angry group of drinkers in a loud angry pub. As I listened, it seemed they were angry because they -- mostly a portly middle-aged lot -- were yelling at a football game on the TV set, insisting "they don't make 'em like they used to!" It was puzzling, for if "they" referred to them, it was probably a good thing!

Later I found myself in a hospital waiting room where angry family members were in bitter discussion about the test results the doctors had presented them concerning their mother. The report was not good, but amid the tears of concern was the rage of condemnation. "What the hell good is it to go to doctors who can't cure!"

Nearby stood a house of worship. Stunning building but totally empty. Outside its doors were a group of protesters with signs shouting: "God is dead!" I asked one of them how did he know this. He was a tall, reedy fellow whose eyes burned into mine: "Hell, if you don't know, I'm not the one to tell you!"

A little way further stood a high school building. The students -- smoking and laughing in their grungy tattooed worst -- were leaving at the end of their day. I took it upon myself to ask the one who seemed in charge: "What did you learn today?" He took a deep angry drag on his cigarette and hissed back: "Hey, man, going in there is just what we do between deals out here. Teachers -- they got nothing!"

As I turned the street corner I saw a large court house. Busy place with people and police and lawyers moving in and out through metal detectors. I simply had to ask one of the better dressed lawyers: "What's it like in your country today?" The answer was chilling: "It's not my country anymore. It's pretty much owned by the bankers, the generals, and that mealy-mouthed, pretend-leader in the White House. Me, I'm just going through the motions!"

It was only a brief misty visit, but it was perfectly clear. In this Wonderland of Woe, everyone agreed on one thing. Things were bad and the only proper cause for their woes was whoever was in charge. Meaning the fingers of guilt and responsibility never pointed to them; only to the imperfect persons in charge, who were probably still the only people still trying.