Make a little room, Alice. I think I just stepped through the looking glass; and if this is Wonderland, I’m no big fan. How perplexing it must be for you navigating the foolishness, the quixotic characters, the insanity of it all. But at least yours is a fairy tale. Mine is the reality of a dark jungle path leading nowhere and I fear I’ll never see home again.
You have a white rabbit to follow. A drink to make you small. A biscuit to make you big. We have nothing. Nothing that makes sense of the pandemic, the recesssion, the protests, the riots. The CDC says we should wear masks. The WHO reveals they don’t help. We need to stay six feet apart. Although groups of 10 and then 25 and then 100 are okay depending on where you live and who is governor and, much like your hookah-puffing caterpillar, what he was smoking at the time. We can belly up to each other at a civil disturbance but not on a playground.
Maybe that’s the answer! If every gathering has a “protest” designation, we’re all safe. I plan to invite 200 of my closest friends to a barbecue protesting parking tickets. A lolla-palooza to protest the two-fish limit on summer flounder. A sit-in to convey our displeasure with the rise in dental insurance.
The army of cards in Wonderland was characterized by their ineptitude. They march into each other; turn the wrong way; fall down and get reshuffled. Our armies of police are being shuffled into parallel bungled manuvers. Handcuffed by body cams, cell phones, and frivolous lawsuits, they become more and more impotent. In Seattle an entire precinct folded like a deck of cards. Trading in their blue for yellow, they headed for the hills when the bad guys came a knockin’. But don’t blame them; blame the fantasy-driven buffoons calling the shots.
What started out as a noble movement became convenient cover for gangsters who desperately look to restock their arsenals of I-pads, Louie Vuittons, and bourbon. Black Lives Matter morphed into Black Lives Only matter. The poor Asian couple who spent their lives scratching out a living from their convenience store watched it ransacked and gutted. Their lives don’t matter. The frantic Mom trying to pick up her sick kid from childcare sits on a bridge blockaded by the great disgruntled. Her life doesn’t matter any more than the old guy who can’t get to dialysis. The 180 families waiting for the affordable housing unit under construction in Minneapolis can only wonder what will become of them when it went up in flames. They’re black. They’re supposed to matter. What do you think?
We’re in an economic massacre. The real hemmoraging hasn’t even broken skin yet. We’ve been bouyed up by federal stimulous programs to the tune of trillions of dollars. I guess all this cash was tucked away in a surplus. All this time, we’ve been warned of a deficit. Does that mean we have a surplus of a deficit? The ultimate oxymoron! Time to rewrite Economics for Dummies.
By the way, Alice, we can go toe-to-toe with you on madcap characters. How frustrating for you to have been chasing after a white rabbit in such a rush to go nowhere. “I’m late. I’m late. For a very important date. No time to say hello, goodbye. I’m late. I’m late. I’m late.” We have a white rabbit of our own Fella’ by the name of Biden. In such a hurry, he keeps tripping over his own tongue. Seems like he’s running for something but never quite gets out of his own basement.
Who could sport a more devious, disingenuous smile than the Cheshire Cat? I’ll tell ya’ who – my governor, Phil Murphy. Off and on and off again, the Cat disappears leaving only a gaping mouth of teeth. Now you see him; now you don’t. Now he issues executive orders demanding businesses stay closed and people keep their distance. Now he joins the protesters and violates his own edicts. Now he lets everyone do what they want. His only constant is that expanse of dentures that outdistance his mouth.
Known for their derogatory mannerisms, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were a pair of interchangable nincompoops. If there were a cattle call to audition for their roles, the nod for typecasting would go to Ilhan Omar (or is it Omar Ilhan? Who knows? Who cares?) and Rashida Tliab. Remember her? She’s the congresswoman from Michigan who, with all the eloquence of Joey Baggadonuts, declared “We’re gonna’ impeach the mother-f**ker!” Like the Tweedles, no one actually knows which is which. They both hate Isreal. They both hate Jews. They both hate big business. They both hate Americans. What do they don’t hate?
In Victorian times, mercury was used in the production of felt hats. Mercury causes brain damage and so the term “mad as a hatter” was metaphor for dementia. The Mad Hatter in Lewis Carrol’s Wonderland symbolized mental cases. Fast forward a hundred and fifty years to the United States of Wonderland and pick your own Mad Hatter. Is it Corey Booker who sees himself as Spartacus? Is it Bernie Sanders, disheveled and gesticulating rabidly like an asylum escapee? Or is it the delusional occupant of the White House, so deafened by the toot of his own horn, that he fancies himself a “very smart genius”? (This, I suppose, separates him from all the other geniuses who are not very smart.)
Finally we come to the Queen of Hearts. Who best to play this foul-tempered monarch whose solution for every offense is the death sentence? You might suppose Hillary but she’s already scurried down the rabbit hole. Even the kvetcy Pelosi or scornful Elizabeth Warren ends up on the cutting room floor. The lead role must go to Lisa Bender.
Lisa Who? Who is this complete unknown thrust into the Wonderland book of Who’s Who? Why, she’s just the President of the Minneapolis City Council spearheading the abolishment of the entire Miinneapolis police department. Off with their heads! Imagine the aftermath of such an imbecilic decision. I don’t know whether she’s a D or an R but I’m sure she’s got the endorsement of everyone in Cell Block D. Perhaps like the Black Widow spider who kills her mate after the love has gone, she thinks something better will come along. Or maybe chaos and bewilderment are the order of the day in this new bizarre Wonderland we call America.