A prosperous salesman was once asked, "What is your secret?", to which the Salesman replied, "I do not sell the product. I know the product, it works. It sells itself."

To which I present you the viewing audience, the greatest hoodie there ever was, and possibly might ever be. Make no mistake, that's me striking a pose, and I do it not only for the salesmanship, but because the spirit takes me. And how angelic does it feel to rock a hoodie which instantly not only transforms you into hip-hop cool, but Star Wars Old Skool?

I really don't have words for the FETT FOR REAL hoodie, by Mark Ecko.

I'll let the product speak for itself.





Fett For Real, by Mark Ecko
http://www.shopecko.com/home/index.jsp

Oct. 8, 2008
The BMF (Big Millennium Falcon) as seen at the bottom of the blog is pretty sweet, but after looking at it for a few days I came to the realization that despite the nifty paint job- it still was just too damn clean. Nothing that a bit of watered down black acrylic couldn't fix. Here's some new pics of the much dirtier, and "realistic" looking vehicle.

Word.







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August 1, 2008

"She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid..."

Han must have been referring to Kenner's original Falcon for the little Star Wars figures, because the brand new one that was released last Friday looks like a whole lot- and it is. The thing is massive... over 2 1/2 feet long, and packed full of just about everything that was seen on the Falcon in the movies, Hasbro's new ship is a juggernaut. In short, basically everything that was right about the original playset/vehicle has been made bigger, better, with more detail, and more features. All around this is arguably one of the coolest toys I've ever seen.

Years ago, there was a series of books which featured cross-section, cutaway views of the different craft and locales of the Star Wars universe. I remember looking at the Falcon in particular thinking how great it would be if there was ever a rehash of the vehicle and how neat it would be if some of these different rooms were put in, complete with hallways, escape hatches, pop off engine covers, and maybe... just maybe a respectable cockpit that would feature four seats (and room to spare). Well, Hasbro finally did it. And although they weren't able to make the thing exactly to scale for the figures, they did a damn fine job. Not only is the interior a real work of art (and an obvious labor of love for the team who designed it), but the electronics which are featured are really state-of-the-art for a piece like this. The engine sounds of which there are several, run separately from the voice tracks which come in loud and clear. There are tons of different movie phrases that are triggered depending on what station is activated, and you can literally have them play out in different order all the while the disparate sounds of laser fire or engine rumbling continues in the background. It's like having the movie come alive right in front of you- move the radar dish, and the remote ball that Luke trains with swings by, complete with sounds of a lightsaber and the audible crash of laser blast as Obi-Wan counsels in the ways of the Force... Activate the gun turret, and Han Solo yells out down the hall, "Don't get cocky!" A different button lights the Holographic Chess board, causing a familiar Wookie to growl with discontent.

The engines light up, there are different sounds for the fight modes (engine ignition/lift-off, cruise, and Hyperdrive boost), the ramp is spring activated and has an accompanying sound effect, there's an escape pod, cargo bay, a hidden ventral blaster as seen in Echo Base... the list goes on and on and on...

If you're a Star Wars collector who's on the fence about this one. Don't be. Not one bit.
Lock in the coordinates to your nearest Toys R Us, and make the jump.











The Falcon is available now at Toys R Us and will set you back about 170 galactic credits.

MOAR UPDATEZ: Sept. 08: Indy gets a generic temple to serve as his all-in one adventure playset.

Really just a cleverly accessorized Mustafar Playset for the Episode III line of Star Wars figures, 'The Lost Temple of Akator', makes for a very decent addition to your Indy Jones diorama. I touched the set up with some dark highlights and threw on some cobwebs to great effect. In all, not a mind-blowing playset, but I think a really fair piece to set some Injuns up on.

The set below features 2 extra Ugha Warriors than the one that comes with it, as well as the Temple Pitfall trap that is sold separately.



UPDATE! June 29? 2008-
Got some more Indy Jones love for ya (really for me, but y'all are welcome to join in)- anyway- here's the deal, in a previous post I posted pics of my old Kenner Indy toys, but what I didn't tell ya- was how I made like a bank robber and sold 'em all for mad cash on eBay. Really got a sweet price on the set. Reason I did it, was 'cause I knew that I'd make good money and yet still be able to pick up the new toys that ya see below. Well- I got to thinkin' and was like DAYUM! WHY'D I GO AND DO SUCH A THING! So you know what I did? Yep. I went and bought the stuff back. I made out okay though- and only bought a couple of the playsets at a fraction of the cost for what I sold the pieces off for. So- it worked out. Anyway- check it- here's the Well of Souls and Map Room playsets with the new figures.

Enjoy!






P.S. Last Crusasde and Temple of Doom figures, ON THE WAY! WOOT!

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May 7, 2008

Holy frickin' Gawd! New Indiana Jones figures... *sputter *pant *weep *scream! I'm almost too excited to get the words out... so basically I'm just going to have to let the pictures do the talking. Most everyone who is gonna give a shit about this blog knows the deal already, but I'll give a little info for posterity's sake; Indy's new movie has prompted Hasbro to release a whole new line of IJ figures/vehicles/playsets, and I couldn't be happier. There are some crazy things going on with these toys that Kenner wouldn't have even thought of doing back in the old skool days, namely giving the figures massive articulation and accessories that just keep giving! All the figures come with little cardboard boxes, which when you collect enough of them help to create a play environment of their own (a la the Storage Warehouse seen in Raiders and Crystal Skull). Inside the boxes is an artifact that is mostly to scale for any 12" Indiana Jones figures you might have.

I didn't snap a picture of the box art, but that's some of the best stuff I've ever seen. Really, super great! Anyway, for your consideration is my humble treasure trove of new Indy Toys that I've collected thus far, including; Indy as seen in the new movie, the Idol Trap and Temple Pitfall deluxe figure sets, Belloq in ceremonial robes, German Soldier, Indy's friend Sallah, and two Ugha Warriors- also from the new movie.

More to come. Also, dig through my older posts to see both my awesome Japanese Import Jones doll, and some of my original Kenner Indiana Jones toys.

-Matt

If I had to wrap my feelings for the movie up in one sentence, it would unequivocally have to be: GODDAMN, THAT'S A LOT OF MOVIE. But well worth it, indeed. My first reflections go back to that of Heath- the guy did a great job, but truth be told I think that if you distance yourself from the circus of his death you won't put as much a halo on his role as so many people have. Make no mistake, the man did a fine job pulling off a charismatic schizoid, but I actually think I liked Aaron Eckhart's Two-Face better. Who knows... maybe I'm just trying to be the underdog here and swing with the minority vote, but really- when the end credits came rolling up it was more Two-Face who I was really thinking about.

That teeny-bopper infatuation with Ledger's death was palpable- you could tell by the all shirts in the theatre the kids had on with his face- it was quite clear this was a high school funeral of sorts. I remember being in that stage too- only back then it was the whole Jim Morrison gig (courtesy of the Oliver Stone early 90's Doors revival). To be clear, I don't mean to demean Ledger's performance- but merely to cast it in what I think is its more proper light: perhaps it was just the script that allowed the villains a different degree of flexibility- and whereas it was Ledger's Joker who was probably mad from the beginning, Eckhart's at-long-last transformation was the central axis of the movie that both unnerved and totally energized me.

I read somewhere that a reviewer thought the movie perhaps had one too many villains, but it's clear to see what Nolan was going for and why the two villains had to accompany each other- with the main hero, we are served a complete trinity of order, chaos, and the fate which intertwines them. The movie is significant, although pound for pound I think only just barely tops the first installment, which was already loved as one of my all-time favorite movies.

It might not get much better than this.


5 out of 5 batarangs

Gettin PAID $$$$$$$$ BIG MONAY MAKA. So of course, gotta blow this hard earned scrilla scrub all ovah that hard plastic that I love so much! If you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, don't worry- I'm juiced on some Mountain Dew and a 22 of Nuke (Newcastle, for the uninitiated) so just bear with me--

Anyway, what you see below is what I consider to be the crown Jewels of McFarlane Toys' Movie Maniac series. Included in the pictures are an ensemble of the Deluxe Queen Alien Figure, with TOTALLY GODDAMN BADDASS diorama stand, Alien and Egg base from the Deluxe Alien Vs. Predator set, Lt. Hicks and the McFarlane Toys Club Exclusive Corporal Hicks.

What's really balls to the wall crazy insane is that I even have more Aliens than these- that I just got today in the mail- another Giger Alien from the first movie, and the Warrior Alien from the sequel, which makes a total of 3 BADDASS ALIENS and a MOM ALIEN QUEEN wrecking shit up on my shelf. Sorry Mike Biehn and clone, your guys' asses don't stand a chance.

By the way- how bad ass was it that Biehn was in Grindhouse? Loved that. And I fuckin' love PROFANITY so start FUCKING using it more often.

Anyway- back to the toys- as usual, I have some rad shit. What good does it do me? Well, sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I think that life size Yoda is a burglar and I want to hit him in the face with my baseball bat, but then I realize, SHIT it's lifesize Yoda. Truth be told, I don't know why I have all this shit- I just love it. I feel guilty for loving it, like I'm some kind of pervert or something for having toys at my age, but you know what? I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. And you know why?

Here's why.

*Enjoy

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Word. Got done selling some more stuff on eBay, so what did I do? Bought more stuff on eBay. It's a vicious cycle. Anyway- if a picture speaks a thousand words, I'll let these sick pictures retell a hefty chunk of a great story you already know. I don't think these characters need much introduction, but perhaps the set itself does. The Jabba's Palace cardboard diorama was released around '99 and can still be found on eBay for about $15-$30 bucks, depending when you catch it. I've secured the bottom, back and sides with some foamboard to make it a bit more sturdy, but otherwise- it sets up just like you see. The rest of the figures are all fairly new releases, my particular favorites are the big guys; Ephant Mon and Hermi Odle (besides the awesome Deluxe Jabba from 2002)- if you watch Return of the Jedi, you'll just barely catch these creepy dudes hanging out in the dimly lit background of this smoky atmosphere. You can almost smell the Jawas and the spice, can't ya?

Good times- yeah... I know I'm missing the band and other seminal characters like maybe Bib Fortuna, but I'll get them eventually. Besides, the set is pretty packed as it is, so I'm in no rush.

P.S. Viva la Slave Leia action figure! RAWR.

Enjoy,
Matt

Go back and watch Raiders- check out the bullwhip crack that nails the dude in the hand in the first 7 minutes of the movie. Check out how there's that unbelievable South American technology that allows for that sunlight trap, that springs whenever something casts a shadow. Thrill to experience all those blowdarts and how spritely they still work after all these years.

Indiana Jones was never about believability, really. Serious- go back and watch the movies and see for yourself how campy they are. I know the feeling... you want to believe that what I'm saying is bullshit, but go back and watch for yourself and you will agree.

Now the one thing that Raiders had in particular, was the freshness of its main character; Indy Jones. We didn't know who he was, but we were quick to find out. And one of the most important things we learned super fast was just how little of the hocus pocus boogeyman stuff out there in the world put him off. This was a man about fists, women, more fists, more women, good aiming, reloading, more women, whiskey, and letting shit get burnt to the ground. Good guy, Indy Jones. I digress... what appeals to me so much about Raiders is that in between this whole machismo dance, we actually get to see a character form- a person who is at odds with the very things which drive him. At once he is an academic, but he's also a grave robber. He is a deep thinking dreamer, but he also knows when to kick the door in. You know, you almost get the idea that Indy was an idealist who somewhere along the way had his dreams popped over his head and then was left to do what he would with the pieces that were left behind. Were it not for his looks, and his energy, he probably would have thrown it all away a long time before we ever met him.

Our first meeting with Jones underscores this possibility that here we're looking at a guy, who despite his great aim and his ridiculous stunt work is actually looking and living through all this theatricality. There's something to him that makes him tick, and it's pretty clear that despite his secure ho-hum day job, he wants more, but maybe forgot what exactly it was. From a distance it could all be Greek drama, like Hubris in reverse.

Take a minute to find your copy of Raiders if you haven't done so already, and put it on. Watch it, and watch the others- and really soak them in before going to see Crystal Skull and passing judgment. Because although Spielberg, Lucas and Ford are undoubtedly older, and that the tools of their trade have changed in time, there is a constant theme going on here with the playfulness that those three wish to infuse in Jones. We're not seeing young Indiana make the leap of faith for the first time... actually we're almost not seeing any kind of leap at all- and in a way this has to be intentional. This is a different movie, with different techniques, and an almost wholly new tone.

I have to be careful here, I remember being a huge fan of Episode I for the first couple of years- before my head began to creep back out of my ass, so here's a relatively vague list of the pros and cons of the movie:

Good:
1) Harrison is back and having fun. 'Nuff said.
2) The front and back of this movie are awesome. Computer generated quite a bit, but nonetheless eyepopping. The beginning to the movie is really something else.
3) All the players are in fine form. All the actors do really well, for what they've been given.
4) The Crystal Skull. I like the tie- in to the real life Crystal Skull and the 'otherworldly' significance it may or may not possess.
5) John Williams' score, one of his best yet.

The Bad:
1)Scenes amble together in so quickly a fashion we almost forget where we are going or why. Not much time is taken to explain how Indy and crew understand why sets must unfold in such fashion.
2) There are TWO specific scenes in the middle of the movie- which are part of the prolonged jungle sequence- which I wish would absolutely be taken out. They are cheesy bad, they don't look good, and they just plain don't make sense.
3)We don't get enough from our actors. They do a good job, but I think some of the spectacle of the CGI madness could have been traded for more story from our villain as to what she hopes to gain from the skull, perhaps a little more time with Marion and Indy, maybe some more banter with Mac to help flesh out his relationship.
4) The resolution needed less flash and more dialog. Instead of the bad guy (or GIRL) getting bolted for grabbing the goods, we needed something more resolute to help us understand why/how punishment was meted.

So there you have it. Not the most spectacularly written review, but hey... it's 4a and I just wanted to get some thoughts down. I dig Indy, and I hope you will too- but you sure as shit better be ready for a different Indy, because a different Indy is who you're getting. And don't worry so much about the whole age thing, because like the man says,

"It's not the years, it's the mileage."

3 of 5 stars
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull opens nationwide, today.

P.S. For the record, I measure the other Indys as such:
Raiders - 5 stars
Temple of Doom - 4 stars
Last Crusade - 3 stars

Koopas. Mario Karts. Exploding Vials of Holy Water. Space Aliens. Laser Guns. Rocket Ships.


These are just a few of the things that you absolutely will not find in Rockstar Games' much anticipated and eagerly awaited sequel to the Grand Theft Auto franchise: GTA IV, available exclusively for the Xbox 360 and PS3. What you will find is more of the same of everything people round the world have come to love about this game series, namely; car-jacking, rampant crime, the ability to shoot a cop, various metropolitan hijinks, hoozy cuddling, hootch swilling, and gas station destruction. Only this time, it's better. A lot better. So much in fact that reviewers around the world are unanimously proclaiming the release of this game as the herald of the age of video game as art form.

When Rockstar Games first started out doing this sort of thing, it was a kind of perverted novelty that quickly won over fans who didn't get enough drug dealing action in their own real lives. Gone were the days of squashing mushroom people and whipping vampires, cut to: killing cops and driving around in all your Playstation glory. Now, the company quickly found they were onto something- but they didn't know exactly the sizable beast that they were unleashing on an unsuspecting public. Rockstar discovered the formula of adult fun in video games in such a way that was so nearly obscene and totally devoid of childhood innocence that everyone immediately took notice. It was the early days of the 'adult' console scene, and it'd take Rockstar a few more years to start bringing their vision into a more clear view. Soon, the capabilities of the next generation Playstation made itself known and a 3-D rendered version of the Grand Theft Auto world exploded onto the scene. Rockstar didn't have a success- THEY HAD A HIT. If they had ambled onto a clunky execution in those original days of GTA, it was quickly becoming apparent where the mark was and they sought quickly to hit it fastest and with the most accuracy, but it wouldn't be long before others were in hot pursuit.

I digress; Rockstar's irreverent attitude toward shucking the conventions of what a proper game should be has made the company a maverick of the times. They have weathered controversy, and have grown with a talented and formidable group of programmers who are more than likely properly paid their weight in gold for their services. It wouldn't be enough for the novelty of the adult setting to procure continued fame for the Rockstar brand... and they knew it. But most importantly, what they also knew was what more they wanted from the game. And so- the GTA family grew, and it grew, and it grew some more. In fact, it grew large enough that it caught the attention of Hillary Clinton and the House of Representatives, who were none too pleased at the idea that the (then) latest installment of GTA featured a hidden, albeit polygon-ed out sex scene that could be accessed with a secret code. Rockstar was taken before a grand jury. Emails were made public, private records scrutinized to the letter... but no smoking gun was found.
And Rockstar was allowed to live another day...

That day has come. The trials and tribulations that Rockstar has faced has made the once juvenile company now a totally and committed, formidable network of engineers and software developers who not only have the hottest games for the last generation of console gaming systems, they've taken it to the next level. GTA IV is nothing short of the most immersive console game that has yet been EVER released to ANY system, and the feat is a wonder to behold. A person can (and should) question why there needs to be a game with so much violence, or about the repercussions of glorifying these kinds of actions in a 'game', in fact... there are probably hundreds of reasons why a game like this should never be made- but justification for those reasons probably only come from the mind of someone afraid to explore the possibilities. It's not that GTA the series is so much a glorification of anything, more so than the tenacious urgency with which humankind seeks to empower itself. Grand Theft Auto is virtual reality realized, and whether this is the beginning of something totally new, or the continuation of something that started long ago matters not; what does is that one thing is for certain; this is not the end. This is a long, long, way from the end.

Matt

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Grand Theft Auto IV for PS3 and Xbox 360 is released worldwide, today.

As anyone who has ever listened to an original classic rock album on vinyl has always known, CDs and MP3 files just don’t cut the real mustard. I remember when I was made a believer... it was about 2002 and I’d acquired a sizable vinyl collection from seemingly out of nowhere- not soon long thereafter I got my hands a turntable and started going through the cornucopia of strange and wonderful discs that were sure to please and amaze. But I was not prepared for the experience. To listen to Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti on CD, was to ’play music’, but to have listened to an old, scratched vinyl album of that very same music was to have IT play you.

At this point the discussion becomes a scientific measurement of the difference between analog and digital, and of the mechanics of soundwaves, and how the human ear hears this much of that frequency when played at a certain volume, etcetera, etcetera... ...NOW, I’ve heard some awesome CDs on some great stereo systems- but they really are shit compared to the awesome might of vinyl. Don’t get me wrong, vinyl is a pain in the ass... there’s needles that get dull, discs that get scratched MUCH more easily, (in this case) speakers that blow out... you know, all the usual to be expected when there are lots of moving parts and things that could go wrong. But in between all the bullshit is something so RIGHT. There is a physical GROOVE in that disc that is an actual fingerprint of the original sound. Not a digital recreation, but an actual echo of the original- like a fossil trapped in time, and reproduced almost near exactly for all the world to hear.

Enter the Olympic Hi-Fi DUAL STEREO (Cadillac to America’s living room), circa early 1960’s. The pictures you will see below are of my new project to restore this awesome powerhouse of tube amplification and turntable madness. The cabinet is worn, the wires surely need replacement, the connections resoldering, but the spirit of the thing is intact.

I have inherited the piece as caretaker to it and so can’t go ape-shit crazy on it, but I can fix it up as I see fit. For now- the thing has only been cleaned up as best as I have wanted so I could get it in my place- but soon, I hope to update the blog with news about its functionality.

VIVA LA VINYL!
-Matt

Thanks to Bry for helping me gut this bitch and put it back together-
..

Remarks of Senator Barack Obama
"A More Perfect Union"
Constitution Center
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Huffington Post
March 18, 2008 10:15 AM

- - -

"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 is 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 of 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 is 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 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.