I was fortunate enough not only to get to see George Galloway tonight in Los Angeles, but to go out afterwards with him and his colleagues thanks to my wonderful sister. His talk was powerful, funny, terrifying, and extremely moving. Rather than reviewing what he said, which I couldn't possibly give a faithful summary of, I find myself struck by one significant thought - where are *our* leaders? Yes, we Yanks can take great pleasure and inspiration from this man, but it's just sad that it takes a member of a foreign political system to provide any semblance of leadership in thinking about issues of class and race, war and peace, and to remind us of the facts of our history and the present.

The Kennedy's, MLK, Malcolm X, and all the great orators and civic revolutionaries were all dead before I showed up on this planet. I'm mortified when I look at my younger friends and family, the kids I know, and my own generation, and try to find anyone we can look to for moral guidance, political awareness, and a sense of humanity for all our struggling brothers and sisters around the world. I can't think of one American I can compare to a man such as Mr. Galloway, let alone the great leaders of our (not so distant) past. There are the endless pundits, the handful of artists and even smaller group of polticians who touch on the issues, but I can't imagine someone capturing the hearts and minds of the people in our current state. I'm left to wonder what is so perverted in our culture that in a country of nearly 300 million people we are all either homogenized or marginalized. What really hit this point home was the walk to the pub afterward, contemplating the total lack of security for Mr. Galloway as we stroll by the Ambassador Hotel, where poor Bobby Kennedy, the last politician I was ever inspired by, was murdered years before my own birth.

We live in a sad state, awaiting salvation, hoping whoever comes to deliver us won't meet the same fate.