I'm sure most of you got the text message or at least heard about the MS13 Gang Initiation hoax that was going around.  It turns out that it was just like the hoax about flashing your lights at a car who didn't have their headlights on, and then they end up killing you when you did. 

I flashed my lights at a car who was driving in the dark this weekend and they just flipped me off. 

As many of you who have picked up the magazine have noticed, we have been running a new “Voting Voices” section.  Giving local voters a chance to express their thoughts and views on the political climate in America.  Usually, these posts, when they hit the website, end up sparking lively debate that brings in the proponents from both sides of the argument.  So now, it is only fitting that these impromptu debates should be given the light they deserve with an official Bako-Debate.  This is my little experiment.

The rules are simple: 

1. Keep it Civil!

-One of the biggest reasons we, as a country, seem to be making such slow progress in big issues is that nobody truly gives the other side a chance to speak.  And many times, when that opportunity arises, it is clouded by attacks on the other party rather than productive and topic-focused responses.  Avoid name calling and derogatory phrases and try to stay focused on the argument, not the person.

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JEW and Me!
Interview with Zach Lind of Jimmy Eat World. Appearing live at Rabobank Arena, April 6^th with Paramore!

By Chase Brockett, Bakotopia Staff

Jimmy may have eaten world, but he’s still hungry for more. 

Although they may not be directly in the public eye, they are at least sitting in the peripheral, keeping the music honest.

Formed in Mesa, Arizona in 1993, most bands that have been around this long have died out completely, stayed so far below the radar that their teeth are chipping the pavement, or opted to don eyeliner and flat-iron their new screamer’s hair. 

Not these guys.

Despite the fact much of the music scene has shifted preference toward themes of ‘death and romance’, the quartet of Jim Adkins - load vocals, Rick Burch - bass, Zach Lind - drums, and Tom Linton – guitar have remained solid with genuine and unapologetically heartfelt music.

Returning to Bakersfield’s Rabobank Arena on April 6^th at 7:30pm for the first time since opening for Blink-182 and Green Day in 2002 - this is at least one tour in recent memory not chosen to use Bakersfield as its kick-off ‘practice show’.   

Fans of emo music will no doubt include Jimmy Eat World's Clarity on their list of favorites.  Although if Clarity was considered “emo”, 2001’s self titled release saw more flirting with the style than actual lovemaking, hitting old and new fans alike with more aggression and energy. 

Fresh off a successful European tour, Bakotopia spent some time with Jimmy Eat World drummer Zach Lind via telephone to discuss drumming, politics, and the upcoming U.S. tour. 

Bakotopia: Thanks for taking the time to do this.

Lind: No problem.

B: So how is the tour in Europe going so far?

Lind: It’s going good actually, we just got home last week so we’re home now but it went really well, and its definitely the best tour we’ve have in Europe so far to date, and we just feel lucky that you know, we have fans over there that we can play to.

B: Yeah.  I actually hear a lot of bands mention that European crowds give more support than American ones, is that the same for you guys, or do you see a difference there?

Lind: I think that’s probably the case.  I think what they do is they kind of give more of a tangible… they have more of like a physical response to your music, you know?   They tend to move around a little bit more and show their enthusiasm.  I don’t know if the support is any greater, but they definitely express it more implicitly I guess.  Intent on having a good time, and really letting loose, whereas in the U.S. the crowds are a little bit more reserved and self-conscious.

B: So, as far as the songwriting process goes, being a drummer, do you find yourself being a critical part of writing the songs, or do the songs come to you after they’ve hammered them out?

Lind: You know, it kind of depends.  Everyone in the band is really involved in coming up with the final product. I think that there’s certainly an element where Jim is the primary guy who will bring us ideas and bring us kind of things that he's done but, ultimately it’s a process where everyone's involved and everyone can put in their two cents, not only with instrumentation or, you know, parts, but also arrangement and song length and stuff like that, so I think it’s a pretty collaborative process, but there is certainly a lot of… Jim really brings a lot to the table when it comes to that kind of stuff.  With vocal melodies and lyrics and chord progressions and um... there's some times where he brings in a song and it doesn’t change a lot, and it kind of remains in its original state, and then there's songs where it comes to the band and then it changes a ton.  And then there are times when the song just starts with a drum beat and then you know we go from there and we try and then we add some more stuff, it just kind of builds that way.  So I think there's multiple ways that songs come together.  We've always tried to, as a band and everything, you know, whether its song writing or playing live, or what our T-shirt design look like, you know, everyone has a part in it.

B: Is that kind of how, and I know this is an older song, but is that how Lucky Denver Mint started? Did it start with the drum beat?

Lind: You know, I don’t even, I don’t remember.

B: Yeah, I know that was a while ago. Haha.

Lind: Yeah, you know I think it started with a loop - a drum loop - and we just stuck with that. We used it as a loop and then it went to... I think Jim had the basic idea for the song, we added a drum loop and I don’t know… I can’t really remember.

B: Yeah, it was a while ago, so that’s understandable. So, as far as recording your drums, are there any special processes you go through, or is it just typically set up play?

Lind: Typically it’s just set up and play and you put up the mics, and on this last record I would record the drums without the cymbals and then I would go back and record the cymbals later.  It's just kind of a trick to get a particular kind of drum sound and I did that a few times.  But for the most part it's not too tricky, you just get your drums sounding good, you put up the mics and you play.

B:  Do you have any, or rather, who are your all time favorites as far as drumming goes?

 Lind: You know, I love guys like, Stan Lynch (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers) drummer, I’m a big fan of Glen Kotche who's from... he's a drummer of Wilco, he's really great.  You know, obviously guys like Stewart Copeland (The Police) and guys like that are great. There's a lot of drumming legends that you can't go wrong trying to emulate and learn from.

B: So being part of the music industry for over a decade now, have you seen much change in the way things operate and the way things happen?  Because there's been a shift from CDs - you’ve got the downloading coming into play - is that having a big effect on everything?

Lind: Yeah, it's having a massive effect on the way people get music and music is distributed.  And it's pretty substantial how different the music industry is now from when we started in the mid 90's and it's interesting. I think we’ve, as artists tried to adapt and, you know, kind of figure out ways to where we can continue to be relevant with our audience and our fans.  But it's certainly a difficult time.  It’s not easy, in some regards, you know, especially in regards to selling records.  But I think the good thing is that there's no shortage of music fans out there and people love music and ultimately, if bands are making good records and delivering a good live show, I think that they won't have anything to worry about.  It's certainly changing the way that the music business is done and people are hearing music and I think we try to keep tabs with that.

B: Yeah.  So you guys have definitely seen the effect of that.  Because a lot of people, they get into the downloading thing and it's kind of this faceless thing.  They just think it's up for grabs and they don’t realize that musicians are actually affected by it.  So you guys have actually seen first hand how this goes down.

Lind: Yeah its funny, you know, quick story, we were in Italy and we were asking our label rep “How many records have we sold in Italy?” and they were like, “Well, we shipped 500 records in Italy,” and that’s like nothing, you know, haha!  We were really bummed! But the funny thing was we played that night in a venue that was sold out and it was 700 people...and all these people were singing along to the words.  And so, we haven’t even sold 500 records in the whole country of Italy, but then in one city we have over 700 people there singing every word.  And it's hard because to go buy our records in Italy it's like 20 Euros which is almost like 35 dollars so you can't really expect people to buy the record when it's so freaking expensive!  So we can certainly sympathize with the fans perspective in certain instances and, you know, we tend not to lose too much sleep over it.  We're focused on being the best band possible and we feel like if we continue to progress and to, I don’t know, connect with our fans and do things that our fans really appreciate, than I think that we’ll be ok.

B: Awesome! So you guys are going to be in Irvine coming up in April right before you hit Bakersfield, and you guys are doing the Bamboozle Left Fest? 

Lind: Yeah.

B: How are the big shows for you guys - the festival types?

Lind:  Festivals are great!  I think there's obviously a benefit and a downside to festivals, and also small club gigs, and I think with festivals we try to focus on sort of the mass of people rather than, you know, the more intimate crowd and we typically play a more rockin' set in the festival atmosphere. But yeah, it’s a great experience and we definitely enjoy the festival vibe and we’re looking forward to that.

B: Well, just shifting gears a little bit; we’ve got the election coming up, this historical thing going on.  Do you have a preference, do you guys follow that much?

Lind: Yes, I follow it very closely!  I’m a political junkie I guess.  I'm rooting for Obama, I think he's by far the best candidate in the field from both parties and I’m certainly hoping he can hold on to his lead here.

B:  He seems to be getting the support from a lot of musicians and a lot of, obviously the youth vote.

Lind:  Yeah definitely, and I think that’s important and I think that’s something that... I think, with kids and the younger types, I feel like they really are thirsty for a different kind of language and a different kind of approach to politics in general.  And I think that Obama has done a good job communicating that that’s what he is for and that’s what he wants to work toward.  And it will certainly be interesting if he does end up winning.  It will be interesting to see how successful he is in changing the political discourse and I think everyone wants to, or at least his supporters are hoping that, it's better to try than to just give in and say “things are just the way they are” and to be realistic about things and I think that people are wanting to take that risk and work toward a different kind of political discourse in general.

B: Definitely!  So have you guys been a part of any sort of Rock the Vote-esque effort, any sort of political movement?

Lind:  The only time we actually got directly involved in a campaign, we supported a state representative here in the Phoenix area, he's a guy named Harry Mitchell.  He's a representative from the Tempe area, and he was running up against a guy name JD Hayworth, who was a real conservative kind of, you know, just a very brash - I would call him like a Rush Limbaugh conservative.  And Harry ended up winning, and that was the first time we actually played a show where... it was a fundraiser for him and he ended up winning, and last time we played in DC he invited us to his office and we went to the floor of the House of Representatives and watched them vote on stuff.  So it was pretty cool.  It's cool being involved in a campaign and actually be able to hang out and catch what's going on in DC.

B:  You guys have any plans to do anything like that for Obama? 

Lind: Um... you know, I’m not sure.  We haven’t talked about it specifically.  I’m not completely... I would certainly be for it and I think it's just a matter of if everyone in the band is comfortable with it.  Because we’re essentially a democracy.  But I think it would be fun and I think that it will be a really important election and I hope that we get a chance to help out in some way.

B: So back to the music industry itself:  A lot of people criticize the industry for being oversaturated and stale and because of that you have a lot of bands that are just trying to overhaul their image.   But you guys have seemed pretty consistent in the way you present yourself, you're not reaching out into areas that don’t fit you, is that something intentional or does it just come naturally?

 Lind: I think it's both.  I think it comes naturally and it’s also intentional.  We’re not interested in stylizing our music. I think we play music and we look like normal dudes and we don’t need to wear eyeliner, we don’t need mullets.  I think a part of that is just kind of where were from, you know, Arizona is not a flashy place.  We just look how we look.  Half the time we do photo shoots they pick clothes for us and they bring them there, and we just usually end up wearing what we wore to the photo shoot.  And for better or worse, obviously, there’s nothing wrong with some of the greatest bands of all time who have employed a certain style to enhance what they do - guys like David Bowie and Kiss, and stuff like that.  But I think that there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just not part of our personality and we’re just focused on the task at hand and not so much worried about trying to have a look that’s going to piss parents off.

B:  So I think the last time you guys came through Bakersfield was with the Pop disaster tour is that right? 

Lind:  Yeah that might be true actually.

B: Because I remember seeing you guys with Green Day and blink 182 back in 2001 or 2002 - early in my high school career.  So you guys are coming back this time headlining with Paramore.  Have you guys done arena tours as headliners before?

Lind:  No.  We did a co-headlining tour with Taking Back Sunday that was in some arenas but we haven’t necessarily done a lot of arena stuff headlining.  But we’ve done a ton of it opening up for bands like Green Day and the Foo Fighters, the Pop Disaster tour, like you talked about, so we feel pretty comfortable with the set up.  I think we’ve done it a lot and I think we’ll be pretty much at home doing it just because we have a lot of experience opening up.

B: What can people expect this time around?

Lind: This time around you can expect a lot of old and new songs.  We’ll definitely play a lot of songs from the new record but we’ll definitely play a lot of old old songs, that any old school fans would love to hear. So I think, we try to make a good mix and we’re looking forward to it I think its going to be an exciting show.

B: I know a lot of people are going to be wondering, are you guys going to be getting into Clarity at all?

Lind: Yeah, no we’ll play a few clarity songs, some Bleed American songs, some Futures songs, and maybe some rarities here and there but yeah, we definitely work in the clarity stuff.

B: Awesome. Well I appreciate you doing this for me

Lind: No problem man, thank you, thanks for writing us up

On the web: www.jimmyeatworld.com

Jimmy Eat World with Paramore, and Dear and The Headlights LIVE!
-Sunday, April 6^th
-Rabobank Arena
-7:30pm
-Tickets: $30
-www.ticketmaster.com

Barack Obama's speech in response to Reverand Wright and the racial issues in this election.

You can watch it here

http://www.youtube.com/watc...

the full transcript is below.

Philadelphia, PA | March 18, 2008
As Prepared for Delivery

"We the people, in order to form a more perfect union."

Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America's improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation's original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least twenty more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution - a Constitution that had at its very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part - through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk - to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign - to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together - unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction - towards a better future for our children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton's Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I've gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world's poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners - an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It's a story that hasn't made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts - that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either "too black" or "not black enough." We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we've heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it's based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we've heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely - just as I'm sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren't simply controversial. They weren't simply a religious leader's effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country - a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright's comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems - two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and You Tube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn't all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God's work here on Earth - by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

"People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters....And in that single note - hope! - I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion's den, Ezekiel's field of dry bones. Those stories - of survival, and freedom, and hope - became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn't need to feel shame about...memories that all people might study and cherish - and with which we could start to rebuild."

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety - the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity's services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions - the good and the bad - of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother - a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America - to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through - a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, "The past isn't dead and buried. In fact, it isn't even past." We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven't fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today's black and white students.

Legalized discrimination - where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments - meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today's urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family, contributed to the erosion of black families - a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods - parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement - all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it - those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations - those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright's generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience - as far as they're concerned, no one's handed them anything, they've built it from scratch. They've worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they're told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren't always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze - a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns - this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It's a racial stalemate we've been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naïve as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy - particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction - a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people - that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice if we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances - for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs - to the larger aspirations of all Americans -- the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives - by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American - and yes, conservative - notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wright's sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright's sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It's that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country - a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know -- what we have seen - is that America can change. That is the true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope - the audacity to hope - for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination - and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past - are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds - by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world's great religions demand - that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother's keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister's keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle - as we did in the OJ trial - or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina - or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, "Not this time." This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should've been authorized and never should've been waged, and we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for President if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation - the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I'd like to leave you with today - a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King's birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that's when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother's problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn't. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they're supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who's been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he's there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, "I am here because of Ashley."

"I'm here because of Ashley." By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

Bakotopia is putting together an issue to showcase Bakersfield's artistic talent.  If you have anything to contribute, that is photographs, paintings, drawings, poetry, short stories, anything... send me them at Chase@Bakotopia.com

I tried to embed this but it didn't work, so just click and watch.  I love the Daily Show

http://www.comedycentral.co...

So, yes I am working for what some people consider an "evil corporation", but as far as I'm concerned, I'm not concerned.

Anyways, Starbucks on White Lane and Stine (next to Golden Ox, Hollywood Video) is having a two-year anniversary shindig with some music and what not.  I think there was talk about free cups of brewed coffee.  If not, maybe I can swing them for you anyways.  Ahem, but my point is, Monday night at 7 P.M., at an hour that is accomodating enough to not interfere with St. Patty's Day drinkathons, this event is taking place. So you should come down and hang out with me. 

7 O'Clock also sees a special acoustic performance by Velorio's Ben and Alvaro. 

I might be playing some music too, but at the moment it looks unlikely because no musicians are willing to have a jam session for it.  Maybe though? 

So come down, get some coffee, enjoy the music, and support some hard working barista's who have to put up with some of the most irritating crap you can imagine (not from you, of course)!

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You think you're funny? We're looking for some local contributions in the form of some funny.  Bakotopia is looking for comic strips from locals to be part of the magazine.  So if you have something you'd like to submit, do it!  Click on the photo for some examples. 

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I've figured out the exact moment when you can say "I am old".  It isn't the instances of sore joints, or achey backs, its at the precise moment in which you (as a woman) are walking through a clothing store and see a shirt with a picture of a cat (or dog) on it and go "I like this shirt!".  Thats when you know.

For men its the Hawaiian tees or the fishing tees.  Big Dog tees in many cases too, but the age variance on that is larger. But to be fair, there isn't much of a change in fashion sense as men age. 

After posting the Road Rules/Report a Violation reminder blog, I started thinking about vulgarity, mostly vulgar language. 

It seems that yes, our society has become more crass over the decades.  The language on television is considerably less refined and is considered less taboo.  But aside from situations where image is an issue (presentation of self rather, such as in a job interview, etc.) does vulgar language really matter?  I think cursing has its place, and a very significant one.  I think what I am getting at here is, does taking offense to such language seem reasonable?  And in what ways? 

Now I get back to working. 

I got my Snap! Picture album working.  Check the profile.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id...

You might find that an interesting (and quick) read.

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When dealing with a diverse population, it is only natural to run into conflict and disagreements on what should and should not be considered “reasonable” expression.  Here at Bakotopia, we have an established set of customs we ask people to observe, which can be found in our “Road Rules” section here:

'BAKOTOPIA ROAD RULES'

However, here at Bakotopia we also like to see people be able to express themselves freely; in fact it is kind of the point.  But it should be understood that we all need to make concession toward others in order to maintain peace, and that is why we want to remind everyone about the REPORT A VIOLATION button that was constructed over countless hours by dedicated union workers in order to ensure that you have the most comfortable stay here at Ché Bakotopia. That is, if you are feeling like somebody is overstepping their consented agreement, you can let us know and we will deal with the situation appropriately.  This should not, however, be interpreted as a need to avoid expressing your opinions, no matter how many people may disagree with it.  It is merely a request to observe what has been brought to our attention on sparse occasions about certain language occasionally being used. 

But now I have become curious, because we are in a machine that thrives off of public opinion, what do you guys think is reasonable to expect from people in an online community such as this?  Do you agree with the Road Rules, do you think there needs modification, and if so, then why?  Where do we draw the line when it comes to these matters?  We do not want to see people leaving this site over misunderstandings or feelings of personal attacks, so under the right of the mighty First Amendment, give us your thoughts on the matter, it will help us build a bigger and brighter tomorrow*.

* a bigger and brighter tomorrow is an estimate, not necessarily a guarantee of Bakotopia.com and its affiliates. 

Here's an interesting story I pulled from KGET.com   Check it out.  Cow fuel!

http://www.kget.com/news/lo...

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This band is great.  They are from Santa Monica.  They rolled through here a few months back to perform in front of a massive crowd of me and two other people while all the bands on the bill flaked and their venue got shifted at the last minute.  So give them a little listen,

Sputnik Monroe

myspace.com/sputnikmonroe

Shouts at the Requiem is definitely a standout, that and EEE Funk. 

There was an all ages show at Narducci's on Saturday night featuring D.J. Mikey, Vanity Avenue, Mento Buru, Upground, and Velorio.  For those of you who missed it, you should know that you did miss out.  The house was packed and spirits were high.  I have been a strong supporter of Velorio ever since the first night I saw them perform at a house party in their former East Bakersfield lair and have not been disappointed since.  But yes, the show was excellent, Mento rocked the house, Vanity rocked the house, Upground rocked the house, Velorio rocked the house, and D.J. Mikey rocked the parts that had been left previously untouched by the others.  Next time you get a chance, don't miss out.