61.09

[Issue 61.9] “Where there is no imagination there is no horror.” - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

W

hat a spectacle Halloween has become.

Gone are the days where it was cool to hold your parents’ hand while getting free candy from complete strangers. Gone are the days where picking a costume had nothing to do with how sexy you looked. Gone are the days when Halloween was a onenight thing. Gone are the days when TPing or egging someone’s house was rad. Gone are the days when Halloween had anything to do with anything.

As far as I can remember my very first costume was a terrifying dinosaur, and by terrifying I mean cute and cuddly. After that is was either Davy Crockett or Maverick from Top Gun for a solid three or four years straight. And then, for some reason, during middle school dressing up was no longer the cool thing to do, and I instead opted to cause as much mischief of one kind or another as possible.

Now, Halloween has once again become cool, but in a completely different way. Halloween allows us to channel our inner child and get drunk with it. Halloween holds a special place in all of our hearts, and is undoubtably the favorite holiday of the masses. There are

no repercussions for acting a fool or dressing like your favorite superhero. And anyone that says otherwise is just downright lame. Halloween rocks!

As for us here at the Union we always try to do something special to enhance your Halloween week, and this year was no exception. Our very limited edition spooky trading cards are easily some of our best work to date.

These cards were created by two of our most talented designers: Steven Carey and Andrew Wilson, and are guaranteed to make you jump out of your seat in horror as well as laughter.

We also did our very best at coming up with some of our very own scary stories. Some are spooky, while others are just a little on the demented side, but either way they are definitely worth a read.

Other than that, we just wanted to wish you a happy Halloween, have fun, but most of all, we want everyone to be safe and responsible.

Dino of the Week –Ryan Kobane Editor-In-Chief

Grim

Letter To The Editor

I am writing to express appreciation for News Director Vincent Girimonte and Photographer Jason Bonzon’s coverage of National Coming Out Day in the article “Campus ‘Actively Embracing’ Diversity” in the Oct. 15 Long Beach Union Weekly. Girimonte’s article provided an important overview of the events during National Coming Out Week, acknowledging the off-campus protestors as well as the on-campus programming around lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) issues.

His astute juxtaposition of these events demonstrated the need for programs like National Coming Out Week

that raise the visibility of LGBT issues on campus. Girimonte also captured the range of feelings that students who attend these programs might experience: nervousness, excitement, and pride in being able to publicly celebrate all aspects of their identity in the place where they study, work, and sometimes live.

We are very grateful to Girimonte, Bonzon, and the Long Beach Union Weekly for covering National Coming Out Week 2007 with such sensitivity and depth.

-Dr. Kirstyn Yuk Sim Chun

LGBT Resource Center Faculty Advisor

Halloween Horrorscopes

By Tessah Schoenrock

Taurus

-The Hellmouth opens up in the middle of your English

class this week. While your classmates run around hysterically getting all undead and shit, all you can do is breathe a sigh of relief to finally meet some people who really understand you.

Gemini

-Your worst nightmare comes to life when you finally

meet the person everybody has been claiming is your doppelganger and they turn out to be hugely obese with a face like a greasy pizza. Man, if that’s really your worst nightmare you are one narcissistic character.

Cancer

-You wake up one morning as a giant cockroach. To

your dismay, your self-esteem takes even more of a nosedive when you crawl into class and your friends keep exclaiming things like, “Oh my God! Did you cut your hair or lose weight or something? You look fantastic!”

Leo

-Okay Leo—I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news is you will debunk the meaning of life. The bad news is that this discovery occurs in the last, torturous hours of your life. If you see my beloved late miniature Daschund “Tootsie Roll” up there, give her a pat on the schnozz for me, would you?

Virgo

-You have your big chance to be a hero when your

Aries friend is cornered in the liquor aisle of Trader Joe’s by four bloodthirsty zombies. Instead of stepping up to the plate, you grab a case of Charles Shaw and lock yourself in the bathroom, glugging away pathetically in the hope that you’ll have blacked out by the time the zombies come to eat your brains.

Libra

-Surprise: you’re pregnant! Congratulations! Unfortunately, you realize this fact far too late and end up miscarrying a tiny fetus in the shower after a Halloween weekend of cocaine bingeing and gin bonging.

Scorpio

-Have you ever heard of people getting so drunk they

accidentally shit their pants? Well, if you haven’t yet, you definitely will after your birthday. Look on the bright side-after the zombie apocalypse, nobody will be alive to make up embarrassing pet names for you

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that will stick with you for the rest of your life, like “shit for pants.”

Sagittarius

-Some of your friends will host a Child’s Play marathon

Ryan Kobane Editor-in-Chief Erin Hickey Managing Editor Mike Pallotta Matt Dupree Associate Editors Ryan Kobane Business Manager

ryan@lbunion.com erin@lbunion.com

Vincent Girimonte News Director Kathy Miranda Opinions Editor Ryan ZumMallen Sports Editor Victor Camba Comics Editor Katie Reinman Creative Arts Editor Michaël Veremans Random Reviews Editor Earl Grey Grunion Editor Philip Vargas Literature Editor & PR Mike Pallotta Entertainment Editor Sean Boulger Music Editor & PR Ryan Kobane Photography Director Steven Carey Feature Editor Erin Hickey Mike Pallotta Copy Editors Vincent Girimonte Advertising Representative Steven Carey Graphic Design Chris Barrett Internet Caregiver

this month, and you will be teased mercilessly when you are too afraid to go home to a huge empty house and end up crashing at your grandparent’s place like a sissy.

You get the last laugh, however, when all of said friends are brutally murdered in their beds by knife-wielding psychotic dolls come to life. I suppose it’s less a last laugh and more a bizarre tragedy, but that’s irrelevant—you were right and they were wrong.

Philip Vargas On-Campus Distribution Vincent Girimonte Off-Campus Distribution

-You will be plagued with nightmares about men without

Contributors

Capricorn

feet for a month. Finally you force yourself to visit a Freudian psychiatrist who tells you that the dreams symbolize your deep-rooted daddy issues and suggests making a life-size doll to represent your absent father to whom you can say all the things you ever wanted to but couldn’t.

Aquarius

-You get rocks thrown through your windows on

Halloween in response to the anti-Semetic slurs you carve into your Jack O’ Lanterns. You deserve the window smashing for sure you heartless bigot, but people start feeling a little sorry for you when the police find your charred body tied to the stake at the abandoned site of a Wiccan sacrifice.

Pisces

-The phrase, “You can never be too rich or too thin” rings particularly true this month when your crash diet (which up until this point seemed to be working magnificently) takes a turn for the worse when you literally shit out your large intestine. You’ll lose about twenty pounds, but I hope you have a diaper fetish because you’re going to be wearing one for the rest of your days.

beef@lbunion.com matt@lbunion.com

vince@lbunion.com kathy@lbunion.com zummy@lbunion.com victor@lbunion.com reinman@lbunion.com scarf@lbunion.com earlgrey@lbunion.com philip@lbunion.com beef@lbunion.com sean@lbunion.com

steven@lbunion.com

sales@lbunion.com

science@lbunion.com

Andrew Wilson, Darren Davis, Chris Barrett, Jesse Blake, Christine Hodinh, Derek Crossley, Dominic McDonald, Christopher Troutman, Jason Oppliger, Cynthia Romanowski, Paul Hovland, James Kislingbury, Rachel Rufrano, Katrina Sawhney, Tessah Schoenrock, Allan Steiner, Ashley Marie Weis, Danielle Slakoff, Benjamin Zitney, Sara Vargas.

Disclaimer and Publication Information

The Union Weekly is published using ad money and partial funding provided by the Associated Students, Inc. All Editorials are the opinions of the writer, and are not necessarily the opinions of the Union Weekly, the ASI, or of CSULB. All students are welcome and encouraged to be a part of the Union Weekly staff.

All letters to the editor will be considered for publication. However, CSULB students will have precedence. All outside submissions are due by Thursday, 5 PM to be considered for publishing the following week and become property of the Union Weekly.

Please include name, major, class standing, and phone number for all submissions. They are subject to editing and will not be returned. Letters will be edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, and length. The Union Weekly will publish anonymous letters, articles, editorials and illustrations, but they must have your name and information attached for our records. Letters to the editor should be no longer than 500 words.

The Union Weekly assumes no responsibility, nor is it liable, for claims of its advertisers. Grievance procedures are available in the Associated Students business office.

Aries

-Try not to waste your energy on frivolous pursuits this weekend. You’re going to need it to fight the legions of zombies that will descend upon Long Beach this week.

Stock up on firearms, alcohol, and illegal narcotics if you can. Oh—and whatever you do, do not get laid this month cause everybody knows zombies love the smell of pussy.

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

Questions? Comments?

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29 October 2007

Opinions Celebrating Halloween the Right Way

By James Kislingbury

I

Union Staffer

t’s Halloween again. It’s time to watch Ernest kill trolls with milk and take in a story or two about a topless woman running from a knife-wielding maniac and dressing up as far cooler things than you can ever hope to be. It’s about being frightened, but with no risk of bodily harm.

And worshiping Satan.

Obviously.

The house across the street from mine doesn’t understand this.

Its decorations are an abomination to behold.

There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it. They’re all over the place. There’s no unity. No theme. There’s an alien, a frankenstein, a dracula, a pumpkin, a spider and a witch. All of it is cute as a button. I don’t get it. Who actually looks at these cutesy-pie decorations and thinks “That’s what my house is missing: A neon green, inflatable frankenstein.”

And don’t say kids, because it’s not them.

Kids love monsters more than anyone else. In fact, monsters work best on kids because they are actually open to the possibility that the Boogeyman lives under their bed and is going to snatch them away at any moment (whereas most adults know that the Boogeyman actually works out of a Chevy Astrovan with tinted windows).

The problem with Halloween isn’t that things are dumbed down, it’s that no one gives a rat’s ass about it—especially college students. We are the worst sports when it comes to that holiest of days. We’re an entire age group that seems to be more than happy to phone it in every single year. What’s worse

is that our costumes seem to only come in two flavors: Whore and Douchebag.

Women’s costumes seem to just be a tarted up version of a random noun. It doesn’t even make sense half of the time.

Slutty Bee. Sexy Prisoner. Erotic Road Warrior. Halloween seems to be a great opportunity for people that want to look like tramps, but don’t actually want to be tramps (though there’s a pretty thin line

Newsflash guys: The Spartans sucked dick. I’m not saying that to be cheeky, either.

I’m saying it because it’s a documented fact.

Spartans dug dudes. Spartans dug into dudes. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, all I’m saying is that you should keep in mind that the toughest hombres ever to walk God’s green Earth were proud bisexual men. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to be slightly less judgmental about another person’s sexuality when you’re decked out in a faux-leather mandiaper.

Sorry for the aside.

I’ve been holding onto that rant since March.

This year, I’ve decided to accept what I’ve been hearing for years: I’m going to dress up as Harry Potter. Either that or Iggy Pop. I’ve got the bad hair and the glasses to go as Potter, but I also have the emaciated torso of a sixty year-old heroin addict. I figure God has blessed me with these features for a reason, all I have to do is choose.

Even anime nerds are better at costumes than the rest of the population.

Sure, most of their costumes are an aesthetic atrocity, but at least they make the effort. And if hours of perusing the internet has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is more entertaining than Illustration By James Kislingbury when dressing up as a between being something and just looking cartoon character goes bad. like something).

Halloween is a great opportunity to dress With the guys, the Spartans from 300 up like you never would have otherwise seems to be en vogue. I was at a party last night and to act crazier than you’d normally be and there were at least three blokes decked out allowed to. But half of the fun is putting the like those ancient warriors—plastic helmet, effort forth. It’s a scientific fact that people cardboard shield, apologetically short cape, in zombie make-up have more fun than the a prop sword—basically they were dressed jerk-off that’s dressed up as himself (which like they actually had pecks to show off (Note: is not as clever as you think it might be).

They did not).

Halloween is serious, people! Serious fun!

My Thoughts On Dating: It’s Complicated

By Matt Dupree Associate Editor I’ve never understood the dating scene, nor have I ever understood the phrase “the dating scene.” One could point to several physical or personality-related things for this, but I like to believe (i.e, imagine) that it’s not entirely my uneasy history with dating that has caused this schism. Whatever the reason, I can say with some authority that I quit. It’s a land fraught with subtle deceits and omnifrustrating complications and I’m over it. I hereby tender my resignation as a dater.

Please note that there’s no misogyny in this. I’ve been with wonderful women who made me very happy while we were together, but the in-between shit is enough to illicit suicidal thoughts in me. I’ve never had any remarkably traumatic experiences and my parents both loved me just the right amount growing up, so it’s not that either.

People who are dating are just shitty to each other. No party is entirely to blame; we all suffer the same inalienable issues with inti-

29 October 2007

macy, identity and trust, we just express it differently. A lot of people see this as an entirely male issue (objectification of women via girlie mags, beer commercials and the like) but look closer and you can see it everywhere. As many men thought of Anna Nicole as nothing more than T&A, it’s hard to imagine she viewed her knockin’-onheaven’s-door tycoon husband as more than a piggy bank in a wheelchair. It’s a tricky situation, and that’s why I want out. I don’t feel capable of dealing with my own strange idiosyncrasies, much less those of a beautiful stranger. Maybe someday, but right now I’ve got enough on my plate to stay busy all by my lonesome.

The best part of my plan is the freedom it gives me. First of all, imagine if every time you talked to a hot guy/girl, you couldn’t give a shit about whether or not you’re impressing them. It’s very liberating. Now I’m sure there’s at least some deluded portion of students angling to get into a marryable relationship before they graduate, and to these people I can only wish a healthy and happy

divorce settlement.

I’ve been experimenting with various methods of weeding the shitty aspects out of dating, including but not limited to: setting impossible standards, sabotaging friendly relationships with women, and general assholery. Needless to say, none of these were the magic bullet I was looking for. The all-too-obvious conclusion I’ve reached is that I’m just not in a position to find my “perfect match” (if you believe in that sort of thing) or even in a position to convince myself that I could.

The bottom line is, for me, life is not about how many places I kept a spare toothbrush when I look back. And I’d rather have a cavalcade of amazing friends than a handful of ex-girlfriends (some of whom would have to be disgruntled, that’s just the math of it). And for the record, this article isn’t a reverse-psychology plea for dates and any woman so easily conned is certainly not someone I would ever associate with.

Questions? Comments?

Matt Dupree can be reached at: matt@ lbunion.com Or comment online at www.lbunion.com

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

At Least It’s Easier to Swallow Than a Resurrection

By Derek Crossley Union Staffer I hate to say it, you know I do, but, yes, finally, I believe in the Loch Ness Monster, not to mention lake creatures from around the world. I’ve spent the last couple days reading all about it. It’s pretty crazy, actually. So here’s the basic premise: In Scotland there is a lake or a lock, in the city of Ness, or something like that, and of course, as you probably know, there have been sightings of a big amphibious monster there.

I read several accounts of firsthand sightings of the creature and they all seemed to sync up pretty well. It was big, slow on land, fast in the water, and had two or three humps. So, I figure, alright, all of my red-headed relatives are crazy, or, maybe there is something to this. As I researched, diligently, I came upon different kinds of sea and lake monsters. Many were serpentine creatures but others resembled the dinosaur-ish build and size of the famous Scottish lake dweller.

Are these just delusional fantasies passed on and retold to sell T-shirts and coffee mugs? Maybe. But it all changed when I saw something. Being the skeptic that I am, stories and such do little to persuade me. I need to see or feel something to believe in it. I need to have some sort of proof. What I saw was a picture of a dead, sea monster found 900 feet deep in a fishing net.

It was about twenty-five feet long and looked like every description of the Loch Ness Monster.

That pretty much did it for me.

That’s what I needed. I saw what I always wanted to believe. That something, anything, in this world is still extraordinary. That anything out there is surprising and undiscovered.

And there it was. Eureka!

It made me smile. Even currently, as I write this, I’m smiling. Because in the same way that I love crocodiles and great white sharks because they are practically dinosaurs trapped in time, or, living fossils, I love the idea that even though we can go to the moon, create nuclear and biological weapons, cure disease, and discover the mysteries of the universe, we can still know very little about a giant animal that lives in the middle of a heavily populated country.

That’s what is so great about things like this, these discoveries that can not, necessarily, be “proved.” They turn every witness into a discoverer, every encounter into a brush with the past.

What would be better than to see a real-life dinosaur, a creature that has been lying in wait, unchanging, static, for, possibly, millions of years?

That’s something I want to see.

That’s a story I want to tell.

Even though I may not believe in god, ghosts, karma, or creation, I, now, believe in Lake Monsters and living below the radar.

Questions? Comments?

Derek Crossley can be reached at: derek@ lbunion.com Or comment online at www.lbunion.com

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[Opinions] Point(counter)Point

Slut-O-Ween Costumes

By Vincent Girimonte

By Darren Davis

Prince Vince

Big D

It has been a glorious week separated from this column; both Darren and I were able to partake in our favorite pastimes—moping and baseball, respectively, during which time my colleague found inspiration for his costume within the pattern of his girlfriend’s church skirt. That’s okay with her, right Lane?

The slutty Halloween costume panders to a certain audience I think most women are not ready to welcome. Granted, I could be wrong in assuming the janitorial staff is not your target audience.

Women have a tendency to keep me in a state of perpetual confusion, Halloween burlesques especially. If you don’t mind the leering eyes of Darren Davis popping out from the shadows, an Eiffel Tower in his pants, then by all means continue with the parade of tackiness. Even then, you’re far too clad for the Big D; the only thing he prefers you wear is those innocent eyes on the verge of tears and your virginity on your sleeve, maybe a little smeared make-up for his Orange County Hardcore identity. This is his Super Bowl, or more precisely, the equivalent of naked Bioshock night with his coffee friends. His erection is not dependent on the grainy quality of free thirty-second porn clips and/or Robert Downey, Jr. I would like to believe you, as college students, could muster up enough creativity so as to attract compliments without your breasts taking the lead, bursting through a sexy Mother Teresa get-up—a redundant costume to begin with—whilst your boyfriend plays a lewd priest. My Southern tutelage tells me a lady needn’t dress like a hooker to receive a kind word or proposition for fellatio. Trust me, the sexy costume is a waste of time for those not willing (people most unlike Darren Davis) to stain the inside of their He-Man suit while presumably searching for their keys.

I can understand if your costume is, in fact, using our preconceived notions of what a prostitute should look like and jamming those notions down our throats with busty paradoxes. I suppose it’s a little naïve for me to ignore the moonlighting policeman out there, sucking some D in the back of his patrol car.

Forgive me if I’m wrong, Darren, but research and red plastic cups have told me your outfit is less a social commentary than it is an annual celebration of Paris Hilton-ness and our love of the common cocktease. Don’t give me the female empowerment routine you’re so fond of, either; unless, of course, the sexy Ida Tarbell costume is utilized, which is all too often not the case.

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What a fantastic bye-week, V. Lemme-tell-ya. I spent the 8 minutes usually dedicated to writing this column and got the ball rolling on my novel. It is a non-fiction piece tentatively titled “Maple Syrup Does Not Viable Lube Make: The Sexual Misgivings of ‘Prince’ Vince Girimonte.” Real compelling stuff. Publishers are salivating.

Two weeks ago I somehow failed to defend the existence of wood. While this loss in particular has haunted me since last Tuesday’s meeting, I feel as though by now I have built myself back up to a point where I can, at the very least, support a woman’s right to throw her breasts in my face whilst wearing a diaper.

Vince, slutty Halloween costumes are like the American Idol audition episodes that you Tivo so religiously: they are great to look at, but are in no way deserving of respect or credibility. Why pass up the opportunity to let women make spectacles of themselves? And what a day it is when said spectacle leads to half-mast erections which you try, with no small amount of finesse, to hide underneath your Raggedy Andy costume. Oh, Prince Vince. You’re not fooling anyone. And you’ve been Raggedy Andy three years in a row now.

I just don’t see how you can object to a woman showing herself off. Half the time these are the tactfully modest girls you have been praying to see a bit more of since they sat in front of you in your Beth Lau lit survey. Besides, slutty panda bears and naughty nurses are essential to a successful Halloween party. Who else is your girlfriend, bumming everyone out in her post-mortem Sylvia Plath costume, going to judge explicitly but also quietly envy? And who are you going to fantasize about later that night? If everyone showed up to your kegger dressed as Franny & Zooey, or in some other esoteric get-up (no guys, I’m not a trash bin, I’m the Union office. get it?), well, that would just be a party full of assholes.

I will only attend a Halloween soiree if there is a chance a drunk chick will come tumbling out of her Dorothy costume mid-keg stand. Anything less and it becomes a group of pretentious English majors masturbating their egos and sipping Tom Collinses. While there is nothing wrong with a good Tom Collins, there is something wrong with that Gorbachev outfit.

Give me some half-naked Nancy Reagan and the Wife of Bath in the flesh. And side-boob, Vince. Side boob. This is HalWho Reigned Supreme?

Last P/CP winner on “Wood”: loween. Let’s make Andy Warhol and Huck Finn look bad.

Vince Girimonte, Me-My-Mo-Monte

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

29 October 2007

News

The Redemption of LB Basketball CSULB’s women take a page from an

NBA playbook, and the men begin 2007 with a blank canvas.

By Ryan ZumMallen Sports Editor

I

f losing builds character, as the old adage goes, then both men’s and women’s basketball bring plenty to the 2007-08 season. But with hardship comes motivation, and eventually, redemption. Long Beach State has a lot to prove—that our women can consistently succeed, that our men’s success was no fluke. It all boils down to what happens on the court, but it starts with two people: the head coaches.

With one coming off of a 9-23 campaign—coach Mary Hegarty calls it “easily the most difficult year I’ve ever had, professionally”—and the other having coached In just 7 games last season before resigning—and even sparking a fan website that called for his dismissal—both Mary Hegarty and Dan Monson enter the 2007-2008 season with something to prove.

When comfortable, both are friendly and warm— Hegarty has kind eyes and a soft voice that put you at ease, while Monson never hesitates to crack jokes that are always followed with a wide smile and a belly laugh. They’re happy to discuss coaching strategy, their teams’ respective strengths and weaknesses, expectations and predictions.

But ask Hegarty about her team’s struggles last season—their overwhelming youth and inexperience, their difficulty scoring easy buckets—and she’ll transform. Her eyes focus, her words become more direct and rise from within her heart, and it becomes clear that Coach Hegarty never wants to feel the sting of 23 losses again.

“I’m anxious to redeem myself,” she says about a season in which her team shot just 36% from the field and committed 19 turnovers per game. “Not because anyone has said I have to, just because it is unacceptable. Winning is a part of this athletic program, and I certainly don’t want to let down Long Beach State.”

Entering the 2007-2008 season, Hegarty and her staff took a new approach. In an effort to utilize their athleticism to boost scoring, the coaching staff observed the Phoenix Suns practice—implementing some aspects of their high-octane style.

“They run a lot of things with ten or twelve options,” Hegarty explains. “But it’s not complicated. Last year we didn’t get any easy buckets.”

This year, the load will be lightened by the growth of the team’s youth. Seven freshmen received heavy minutes last year—mainly because there was no other option.

The team is a whole year older now, and there is much more competition for playing time. Star guard Karina Figueroa—who Hegarty admits was run into the ground last season—will have plenty of help in the backcourt with the maturation of Courtney Jacob and Lauren Sims, as well as the activation of Russian gunner Valeriya Musina. Throw that group onto the court with Fig, Ally Wade and speedy one-guard Tyresha Calhoun, and the 49ers are confident that this guard-heavy rotation will yield better results than last season.

“We’re not gonna let it get back to that point again,” Fig says.

On the other hand, the men’s head coach would probably pay good money to have the same success that his squad enjoyed last year. The 49ers made an unprecedented 24-8 run that culminated with a Big West championship and a trip to the NCAA Tournament. Coach Dan Monson can tell you all about it, because he watched it on TV. “That’s what a coach does when he’s not coaching,” Monson says.

Monson’s journey has been one of unfulfilled promise—after planting the seed for a dynasty of success at Gonzaga and revolutionizing the way we think of midmajor basketball, he reluctantly headed to Minnesota, admittedly for the paycheck.

“They really had to talk me into the Minnesota job,” he remembers. “I’m excited to be here and I never felt that way in Minnesota. I did not take that job with the right frame of mind.”

As Monson prepares for his first season at the helm of 49er men’s basketball, his state of mind is renewed, refreshed, focused. Minnesota left him somewhat scarred— he resigned seven games into his eighth season with the Gophers, after what most consider an underachieving tenure that was mainly hampered by severe NCAA sanctions for violations that occurred before he took the job.

He’s eager to prove to the basketball world that his teams are still capable of the surprising success he enjoyed at Gonzaga. Publicly, many blamed Monson for Minnesota’s troubles, but college basketball insiders applauded his move to Long Beach State as a positive change for both the team and the coach. His sterling reputation as a teacher of the game has brought national notoriety and legitimacy to a school long removed from it.

But more importantly, it has brought Coach Monson a chance to prove that his collegiate success is only just beginning.

Tense Iran Debate Returns to Long Beach Experts on Iranian, Israeli and U.S. relations talked over “Iran: Perspectives on Power in the Middle East” in 10-minute monologues and a tense question-and-answer period at a panel-discussion Thursday hosted by the CSULB Model United Nations in the University Auditorium.

Characterizing the American public as “hungry for perspectives” on the balance of power in the Middle East, MUN Faculty Advisor Larry Martinez laid down the need for the debate in his introduction of the participants.

“Iran is without question the No. 1 issue facing the world community,” Martinez said, making a point that was backed by heated viewpoints expressed during the discussion.

CSULB political science professor Farabi Taghavi provided the perspective of Iran through a bare-bones history of its regime changes that she says is necessary to understand the problems today.

“Iran is surrounded by a profound mythology that is rich with emotion,” where Iran and Iranians are associated with extremism or, at the very least, duplicity, Taghavi said.

According to Taghavi, Iranian government began with the rule of “stringent” conservatives, giving way to the pragmatists, who focused on economic development and Islamic relaxation.

With this focus, she said, they contributed “in a very perverse way” to the rise of the reformists, who promoted democracy and a more contemporary interpretation of religion.

Under this regime, Taghavi and fellow panelist Nathan Gonzalez said Iran rejected violence and terror, following Sept.

11, and contributed offensive support to oust the Taliban. But ignorance of this contribution, expressed when named as part of the “axis of evil,” Taghavi said, was conisdered the failure of the reformists and paved the way for today’s conservative regime.

Author Nathan Gonzalez, providing the U.S. perspective, advocated what he called a pragmatic approach to dealing with Iran using one-on-one talks. He dismissed plans to impose sanctions suggested by panelist Gilad Millo, saying they could “make [Iran] feel pushed up against a wall.” Gonzalez acknowledged Iranian Shiites in Iraq as an integral presence.

“We can not and will not stabilize Iraq without help and active support from Iran,” Gonzalez said. “The very least we can do is not put Iran on regime-stabilization mode.”

Panelist Gilad Millo has an extensive portfolio of international service to Israel, including two years of service in the U.N., and believes a strong message needs to be sent to Iran from the international community in the form of sanctions and trade cut-offs.

“The list of Iranian-sponsored terrorist attacks is very long and very painful,” Millo said. “Israel cannot accept a nuclear Iran.”

The audience, unruly at times, directed the bulk of the question-and-answer session towards Millo, practically all regarding the Palestinian conflict.

The panel was held as the MUN’s annual event to “commemorate the founding of the United Nations.”

-Benjamin Zitney, Contributor

Campus Anti-War Protest Hints at Larger Problem: Organization

By Rachel Rufrano Union Staffer “What do we want? Justice! When do we want it? Now!” Student demonstrators gathered on the Friendship Walk last Wednesday to raise awareness for Saturday’s Anti-War Rally in Los Angeles. According to the rally’s sponsor, AnswerLA.org, the event was organized to “illustrate visually the impact of the war on Iraqis and United States soldiers” and to “galvanize people to take an active role.” Although the intention was there, it was ultimately in vain.

A stampeding crowd of anti-war protesters dressed in hippie nostalgia toting signs denouncing imperialism and promoting socialist ideals shouted frantically in the faces of their outnumbered dissenters. Both sides, however equally valid in their stance, presented beliefs with a passionate conviction. An overwhelming number of demonstrators were completely oblivious as to why they were even there.

When approached with the simple question, “What are you doing here?” many were taken-aback and unable to answer.

“We’re supporting our cause!” a student proclaimed. But when asked, “Which cause would that be?” embarrassed

and nervous laughter shortly followed. This confusion was an understandable reaction.

Even though the banners advertised bringing our troops home from war, guest speakers used their platform to express beliefs irrelevant to the rally; beliefs such as amnesty for immigrants, anti-discrimination for homosexuals, racism, and animal cruelty.

Guest speaker and Vietnam veteran Ivan Goldman was one of the few who managed to stay on topic. He claimed that the most corrupt aspect of today’s war is the amount of information that is being concealed. He then went on to reveal some information of his own. He threw out casualty numbers and supposed war tactics, but never sited a source or foundation for his claims. He did, however, bring up an interesting— point he maintained that soldiers reenlisted in the war in hopes that they would receive a time-ensured “bonus.” He left out details of what this bonus entailed.

Goldman was effective in his endeavor to unite his audience and asked that students take action and write letters to California senator Diane Feinstein, whom he claims funds the war. His main concerns were that we not only

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bring our troops home, but that we take care of them once they arrive.

Every following speech was muddled amongst a pettily arguing crowd and cheap shots like “retard” and “learn to speak English.” Some of these slurs even came from the mouths of the event coordinators – most of whom refused to allow the opposition to speak. Campus professor and retired air force member George Kuck asked for a chance to address the crowd and was immediately rejected. It was not until all the speakers had finished that he was able step on the soapbox. There’s no way to determine whether or not his words had any validity because he was subsequently drowned out by organized chants.

At the event’s conclusion I was provoked by the words of a volunteer student speaker who introduced himself as Michael. Referencing the recent surrounding brush fires he asked that we observe where the true fire lay—in the amalgamation of our restless youth, eager to take political action and to make world decisions. We can only hope, that unlike the wildfire that engulfs us, that we are able to make these decisions with thoughtful direction.

Fri. 2nd

Hi 81° Lo 58° Hi 73 ° L0 54° Hi 76° Lo 58° Hi 80° Lo 58° Hi 84° Lo 58° Clouds Mo’ Clouds Sunshine Surprise TBA 29 October 2007

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5

Quiet Uriah-t!

Kelly Clarkson Gibson Amphitheatre Universal City

$29.50+

Doors at 8.15pm Sunday, November 18th

Everybody’s favorite curse word brings her distinctive brand of angst-filled, overproduced pop songs to The Gibson Amphitheatre at Universal Citywalk by far the most intimate venue in all of Los Angeles. Be sure to join the masses as everybody pumps their fist in the air, vindictively singing along to the chorus of “Since U Been Gone.” If you like seeing concerts at theme parks, this is your show!

Article and Interview by Danielle Slakoff

T Silverchair The Wiltern LG Los Angeles

$26

Doors at 8.30pm Tuesday, November 20th

Everyone’s favorite Australian hard rock band brings its distinctive brand of chugging guitars, coupled with string arrangements courtesy of the legendary Van Dyke Parks to the Wiltern LG in Los Angeles. They were supposed to play back in July, but Daniel Johns got laryngitis, so if you had a ticket to that show, now’s your chance to enjoy your dollar’s worth of Aussie out-rocking.

Maximo Park The Wiltern LG Los Angeles

$37.50

Doors at 8pm Wednesday, November 21st

Everyone’s favorite Newcastle-based dance/funk/rock band brings its distinctive brand of dance, funk, and rock to the Wiltern LG in Los Angeles, so you can grab your sweetheart and dance the night away while the lead singer sings about how “The Coast Is Always Changing” in his fantastically thick cockney accent. If you’re not familiar with Maximo Park, pick up A Certain Trigger and then go see them.

Band of Horses The Avalon Hollywood

$19

Doors at 8pm Saturday, November 24th

Everyone’s favorite Seattle -based indie rock band brings its distinctive brand of music that kind of sounds like My Morning Jacket to the Avalon Theatre in Hollywood, California. Touring in support of their new album Cease to Begin, Band of Horses will be stopping at the beautifully-designed Avalon for an evening of wine, women, and grain.

6

rue, raw talent is hard to come by. And in the music world, frauds posing as musicians and vocalists are far more common than genuinely gifted people.

When I was introduced to the music of Uriah, I was surprised and impressed. Surprised, because of all the genres in the music world they could possibly belong to, they belonged to the “metal” genre. I have never been a metal fan. I was impressed because of the quality of the raw, intricate music that poured from the stereo speakers in my boyfriend’s car. Their music, in a word, was inspiring. The music was “heavy,” but it was still musical. Although I know little about metal in general, I do know that a lot of it is, in the words of Uriah’s pianist Ryan Wade, “heavy for the sake of being heavy.” I was refreshed to find a metal group that even I, a hardcore Dashboard Confessional fan, could easily fall in love with.

When I asked my boyfriend more about Uriah, I was shocked to find that they were a local band from my hometown, Santa Clarita, CA, which is known for being the home of Six Flags Magic Mountain. Besides the theme park, Santa Clarita has never produced anything even somewhat interesting. Uriah, I feel, might change that.

After becoming addicted to their debut album Letters in Blood, I decided to e-mail Uriah and see if I could set up an interview with them. I honestly expected them to blow me off. When I received a very pleasant response from their guitarist, Philip A. Beer, I was delighted to see that four of the five band mates would be available for an interview. The fifth member, Ralf Muegler, could not take the time off work.

Lucas Carbajal, Uriah’s lead singer, has one of the most attractive voices I have ever heard. In person, Lucas’s personality was just as appealing. In fact, all four members of the group that I had the pleasure to meet were ineffably friendly and outgoing. (Hell, how often are you going to find a group down-to-earth enough to admit that they “rock out” to their own album while “driving, working, and hitting the gym?”) When I asked them about how the group started, Lucas told me that it was “a romantic evening in January 2004,” and he and Ryan just “decided to start a band after a long night of jamming.” When I inquired as to how the group chose the name Uriah, I was shocked to find that it came directly from a Bible story. Chris Breedlove, Uriah’s guitarist, explained to me that “Uriah was a person that had a beautiful wife, and King David decided to seek out Uriah’s wife. King David ended up getting her pregnant, and he had to cover it up. He then decided to send Uriah out into battle and Uriah ended up dying.

Nothing ever happened to David, despite his horrible actions.”

After I recovered from that depressing story, I asked the group why they chose the name Letters in Blood for their debut album. They told me that they decided to name the album after track number two on their record, “Letters in Blood, David.” The song, in their words, is “one of the definitive tracks on the album” (it is also the song that explains the biblical story above). Personally, the song has grown on me like a relentless fungus, and I

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

will follow suit by stating that it is one of the best songs on the album.

Uriah was a Top 12 finalist at Bodog Entertainment’s Battle of the Bands. The group that knocked them out of the running ended up making it to the Top 2. The competition included “around 4,000 bands,” and Lucas explained that they were all “giddy” when they realized how far they got. To me, their success at Bodog came as no surprise. I am so enamored by their sound that I’m surprised they didn’t win the entire competition.

As far as their musical inspirations, the band mates agreed upon heavy hitters such as “Killswitch Engage, Mudvayne, Tool, Avenged Sevenfold, and Guns N’ Roses.” Individually, of course, they all have their own preferences. When asked if they could tour with any group to ever walk the earth, Lucas and Chris both stated “Killswitch or Avenged Sevenfold,” while Ryan said “Metallica or Led Zepplin.” They also told me that they would “love to collaborate with any group on their next album” because “collaboration is on a steady decline in every genre except hip-hop and pop.”

Uriah recently played in the Long Beach area at the SoCal Rock Revolution. Being that it was one of their few “all ages” shows, I jumped at the opportunity to see them perform. All in all, I was thoroughly impressed.

Despite having some technical issues, the group held it together spectacularly. The crowd loved Uriah—Chris, the bassist, had a wireless setup and even moshed with the crowd during a few songs. All of the females in the audience were swooning over Lucas and his entrancing voice. I was amazed at how many men and women were screaming their throats sore for Uriah.

Despite their terrific performance at Battle of the Bands and at the SoCal Rock Revolution, Uriah has yet to find a record label. In fact, the group paid out of pocket to have their album made in a top-notch recording studio. For every CD that sells, Uriah comes one step closer to paying themselves back for recording the album out of pocket. The album is available at their shows, on the internet through their MySpace page, and now also on iTunes. To any of you non-believers out there: I encourage you to buy the album in its entirety or download a few songs on iTunes. I promise that any musical enthusiast out there will be as astounded by their sound as I was.

Uriah will be performing at the Blue Cafe on Saturday, November 3rd. The Blue Cafe is located at: 17208 Pacific Coast Hwy Huntington Beach, CA 92649 The show will begin at 6pm, and the cover charge is $3.

“It’s the kickoff show for a series of shows put together

by Orange County Freedom Rocks and Left Coast Productions where we’ll be performing with six other bands (namely Manakin) at various military bases around the region twice a month, always on saturdays.

A compilation CD will be available soon and a portion of the proceeds will go towards soldiers families affected by the war in Iraq.”

You want more music?

Then get your sweet ass over to the online music section, and enjoy yourself at our expense! www.lbunion.com

29 OCTOBER 2007

Long Beach Union Oct 29

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Halloween Has Never Been This Sexy Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

7

John Layman, Fabiano Neves, June Chung

128 Pages, $19.99

20th Century Ghosts

By Joe Hill William Marrow 336 Pages $24.95

Reviewed by Philip Vargas

W Reviewed by Sara Vargas In years past Robert Kirkman’s insatiable love for the dead and the undead, has been evident in his zombie epics The Walking Dead and last year’s Marvel Zombies. This year he passed the unquenchable thirst for blood to John Layman, writer of Marvel Zombies vs.

Army of Darkness.

The exploration into another dimension is this: the infamous chainsaw and “boomstick” wielding Ash Williams attempts to save the rest of the world from becoming infected with the plague that will turn them into undead flesh-eaters. Throughout his quest his brain gets rearranged in more than one way. Despite Ash’s efforts to save the world, heroes and villains transform into flesh-eating zombies who eventually conquer the dimension in which they live.

This comic is not for the faint of heart or those who fear being eaten alive by the people who they put their trust in: superheroes.

Though if one looks into the twisted meaning of this comic, one will see the true meaning that what appears normal is just a blood-thirsty

diet. For example, the all-loving, innocent Daffy Duck craves “chicken” mixed with a special sauce that tastes a lot like copper.

Aside from the moral issues presented, the blood and gore keeps one wanting to turn to the next page. The majority of the book consists of terrible acts happening to the socalled innocents. Unlike Robert Kirkman’s Marvel Zombies which consisted of a series of “What if?” scenarios, this book presents the fact that those who provide stability to the world can just as easily destroy it.

On a visual note, Fabiano Neves, Fernando Blanco, and Sean Phillips create a bloodcovered environment. The art shall be praised, due to the fact that the zombies give the reader chills with their sharpened teeth and demonic white eyes, the land becomes scorched, people and heroes are either eaten alive or ripped apart and the sight of blood never becomes old.

If you are fascinated by the dead, undead, zombies, or blood and gore, you should feed your cravings and check out Marvel Zombies vs. Army of Darkness.

Z o m b i e

Hooowwwwl of the Dead

by Zombie Ginsberg I saw the best minds in refrigeration destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging myself across the kitchen floor at dawn looking for a midnight snack, in poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and undead I sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz, men bared their brains for my dining pleasure under the El and saw more half-eaten Anglos staggering on tenement roofs illuminated, who passed through universities with missing eyes hallucinating parking lots and wasteland tragedy among the scholars of war, who were expelled from the academies for crazy & scooping of obscene foods from the windows of the skull,

8

Late Night Bite

hen I first picked up this book by an author I had never heard of before, I expected a series of cheesy ghost stories slapped together in order to make a quick buck during the Halloween season. You can imagine my surprise when I found a treasure hidden bound behind the cover of this seemingly simple-titled book. It’s rare in this day and age to come across a book that can rightfully take its place on the shelves next to the real masters of horror such as Clive Barker, Stephen King, and H.P. Lovecraft, but Joe Hill’s 20th Century Ghosts is such a find.

The title perfectly depicts the kinds of stories that have been collected in this book. While some tales involve a ghostly apparition, in one form or another, others reflect the effects that the 20th century has had on the present. Particularly in the case of the story, “You Will Hear The Locust Sing.” Echoes of the 1950s and the monsters dreamt up in that time by authors such as Kafka are obvious in the tale of a boy who wakes up one morning to find himself a little bit different.

Hill’s talent is apparent as each tale unravels throughout the pages. His skill lies

by Zombie Bukowski

groans at night carrion crows at the windowsill waiting as I eat yesterday’s forgotten dentist at 3 a.m. on a quiet tuesday night. one half-leg in the corner standing upright the other laying on its side. yes, some lives were made to be eaten. who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their infected in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall who ate flesh in paint hotels or drank wound ooze in Paradise Alley, death, or refried their torsos night after night who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge, “MRRRARRRNNMM ARRRRRRRNNN NRRRR”

in crafting a story that is only complete with the arrival of an audience. He clearly entices the reader to become part of the story, whether by providing emotional content to the material or by anticipating what lies behind the next page.

Usually in a collection of stories such as this, I expect to run across one or two duds that lie dead in the water but that isn’t what I found after reaching the end of my journey through 20th Century Ghosts.

Each terrifying and fulfilling short story that followed the other was just as good if not better than the last. The tales resonate in the mind long after they’ve been told, leaving any reader craving whatever is to come next from the imagination of Joe Hill.

P o e t r y

Ode to the Brainthe filialoilessence

The street drowns in brains: noon, summer, light breaks in two brain halves, and the streets run with juice.

In December the brain cuts loose, invades kitchens, takes over lunches, settles at rest on sideboards, with the glasses, butter dishes, blue salt-cellars.

It has its own radiance, a goodly majesty.

Too bad we must assassinate: a knife plunges into its living pulp, red viscera, a fresh, deep, inexhaustible sun floods the salads of Chile, beds cheerfully with the blonde onion, and to celebrate

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

by Zombie Neruda

of the olive tree lets itself fall over its gaping hemispheres, the pimiento adds its fragrance, salt its magnetism— we have the day’s wedding: parsley flaunts its little flags, potatoes thump to a boil, the roasts beat down the door with their aromas: it’s time! let’s go! and upon the table, belted by summer, brains, stars of the earth, stars multiplied and fertile show off their convolutions, canals and plenitudes and the abundance boneless, without husk, or scale or thorn, grant us the festival of ardent colour and all-embracing freshness.

29 October 2007

29 October 2007

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

9

Murky Water Method of Attack:

Known to hide monsters, serpents, and other creepy shit Ideal Enviornment: Small-town lakes and ponds, open ocean, forrest rivers, dark pools, dark baths, dark drinking fountains.

Most Famous Kill: People who borrowed money from the mafia and Horny teens from the 70's and 80's. Possible others are currently under investigation.

Career Kills: 9 people a day.

How to Kill: Chlorine, a wirebrush, and an obscene amount of time.

Teddy Ruxpin Method of Attack:

While Teddy sure does have a grin that will melt your heart, he has the soul of Lucifer himself. He waits 'til you fall asleep listening to him sing you songs, then he pulls out his eight-inch butcher knife and goes to town on your everso-delicate limbs. He really is a sick fuck!

Ideal Enviornment: The friendly confines of a warm bed.

Most Famous Kill: Pop culture tells us that Teddy was single-handedly responsible for killing the '80s.

Career Kills: 17,876 children died in their beds while Teddy was being mass produced.

Graboids Method of Attack:

Originally appearing in the film Tremors, the Graboids are giant worm-like monsters that burrow their way through the earth, preying on victims by bursting up through the dirt.

Since these creatures have no eyes, they sense their victims presence by their movement on the ground above.

Ideal Enviornment: Empty deserts with few buildings or concrete and lots of dumb yokels.

Most Famous Kill: When Walter Chang gets swallowed whole in his General Store.

Career Kills: Having appeared in four films and a tv show, the number of kills was tabulated until the horrible tv show came on and went entirely unnoticed.

Zombie Tornado

Method of Attack:

Essentially it’s a tornado comprised of an army of zombies.

It travels from town to town, zombies get thrown about and out of the tornado, attacking townsfolk. The zombies do what they do, infecting innocent farmers and the like, then of course they get sucked up into the tornado which in turn only grows in size, becoming more of a threat with each passing city.

Ideal Enviornment: The Midwest.

Most Famous Kill: One of the zombies picked up in the tornado is Brian Austin Green.

Career Kills: Just Brian Austin Green’s. But we’re pretty sure his career was killed before the tornado came along.

Zelda Rubinstein Method of Attack:

Telling young folks stories about how things used to be (and should be again).

Ideal Enviornment: Curled up on a big comfy chair with five of her six favorite cats.

Special Move: Having her hip give out during a spat of cold weather.

Most Famous Kill: The Great Maternity Ward Massacre of '92.

Career Kills: Legion.

Lepreclown Method of Attack:

Molesting Children (so far no takers). But the Lepreclown is a resourcefull vilian. If for some reason the child isn't afraid of his clown outfit, all he has to do is remind the child that his is only two-feet tall and has six-inch fangs.

Ideal Enviornment: A playground with a clown or lepreclown theme (where he would be nearly invisible).

Most Famous Kill: It's a tie between cancelling Star Trek and getting rid of the Arch Deluxe.

Career Kills: None yet, but the therapy bills of his victims are estimated to be in the millions.

Corners Method of Attack:

To loom in the distance and get closer as you walk towards them, concealing hidden perils with razor-sharp right angles.

Special Move: The Elevator Exit, most effective after a trip to the grocery store where both hands are occupied and a baguette hinders your forward vision. You never see your perpetrator (neighbor Jim) coming.

Ideal Environment: Corners love brick walls and hallways with good acoustics. The clacking of heels (or more precisely, the sound of your eminent doom) adds to the fear that what is just around that corner is, in fact, another corner. Paralyzing fright.

The Hewitt Family

Method of Attack:

A family of sadistic southerners, the Hewitt's live in a completely dead town somewhere along a lone road in Texas.

The hitchiking brother and father, who's the town's Sheriff, gather the majority of the victims, but it's Leatherface, the most famous of the bunch, that does the dirty work.

Ideal Enviornment: The family home in Texas.

Most Famous Kill: In the original 1974 Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Leatherface clubs a man in the head, pulls him into his workshop, and then swiftly shoves the door shut.

Career Kills: Lots.

Loneliness Method of Attack: Steady binges of Haagen-Dazs and blogging are common, but haircuts every 13 days to keep things spunky can seemingly take the edge off of a fruitless week. Cat food mixed in with cereal can be a most traumatizing discovery.

Ideal Enviornment: Bakersfield, and within the pages of your Hustler. Bottoms of whisky bottles also have proved a safe haven for Loneliness, especially if said bottle is in a post-Randy Travis Bakersfield apartment.

Most Famous Kill: Eleanor Rigby, the cat (Curiosity being the scapegoat for a most gruesome homicide).

Career Kills: The number is expected to be in the gazillions.

Hannibal Lecture Method of Attack:

An oral fixation and taste for human flesh make Hannibal prefer to kill his victims by tearing them apart via his teeth. Although he claims his pallet does not differentiate between race, rumor has it that Filipinos have the mosttender meat, while The Slavic are often times gamey and, frankly, in no way delectable, regardless of how you prepare them.

Special Move: The Face Mask: He rips the skin from your face and wears it as his own. Gnarly.

Most Famous Kill: Jodie Foster’s Heterosexuality.

Career Kills: More than you can shake a finger at.

Alcoholic Step-Dad Method of Attack:

Gin, gin, and more gin. He may sneak up on you while you sleep, or throw a steak at your face during dinner, but alcoholic step-father is a brass-tacks kinda guy. While the good old leather belt is his weapon of choice, he does chain smoke, thus ensuring your receipt of multiple cig burns.

Ideal Enviornment: A seedy bar somewhere close to home and his living room.

Most Famous Kill: Three red-headed step children bludgeoned to death in Ohio.

Career Kills: No one can be completely sure, but the numbers are estimated to be staggering.Thousands each year will fall victim to this horrible human being.

Diabetic Dracula

Method of Attack:

After years of eating too much Count Chocula cereal, Dracula’s body has lost the ability to produce Insulin. Now his only way of attacking victims is by luring helpful strangers in with his pathetic cardboard sign and surly demeanor. Which astoundingly continues to work.

Ideal Enviornment: Late-night busy street corners with dimly lit alleyways.

Most Famous Kill: One time he got this guy to buy him dinner first.

Career Kills: He claims over a thousand, but his blood sugar says otherwise.

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29 October 2006

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

11

Nostalgia

By Erin Hickey

“It’s been a while.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Why did you come back?”

“Boredom, nostalgia, I’m not sure.”

“Fair enough. I’ve missed you.”

“I figured as much.”

“Haven’t you missed me?”

“Irene?”

“Well, haven’t you?”

“You know I still love you.”

“I know. It’s disgusting.”

“Not even a little?”

“Tom, it’s complicated, you know that.”

“Complicated.”

“Yes, complicated.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

“So you do miss me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure, but you implied it. Complicated means you have mixed feelings.”

“I suppose so.”

“Guilt?”

“No.” “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not. I’m glad I did it.”

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

“You’re fucking sick.”

“Maybe fear.”

“Of me?”

“Cops.”

“Oh.”

“No, I’m sorry Tom, I didn’t mean that.

Disgusting’s the wrong word. It’s pathetic.”

“Is that what you came here for?”

“Funds have been kind of short.”

“So you came to me?”

“I assume you’re still wearing your wedding band.”

“You’re going to pawn it?”

“No, I’d like to keep it for sentimental value.”

“How much do you think you can get for it?”

“Enough.”

“Well, I’d love to reach up and hand it to you, but I’m not exactly mobile.”

“I brought a shovel.”

4 12 3

1

14

T

he Amalekites (blotted out from history by the hand of Yahweh) had an interesting literary philosophy: authors often only wrote the first page of a work, leaving the rest to conjecture or dust, imagination or the unknown.

One particularly unnerving narrative was translated into English from an obscure Italian text known as La Prima Pagina found in a closet-sized hotel room close to the harbor in Trieste. In this story a person of sorts is described, known to the faceless author of Exodus as Azazel of the wilderness (or desert). He is described as a demon, cast out and inflicted with contagious insanity.

Around the same time the Babylonians of Ur set down in their eager but directionless cuneiform a horrific and violent account of Chash-Razel, a god who inhabits the deserts alone, maddened continually by opium, coming into the city after dark to inhabit the citizen’s nightmares. Travelers of the vast expanses who saw a column of dust, rising on the horizon knew that they would soon fall victim to a dementing and untranslatable fate.

In 1929, an expedition of stout Britons in white hats traversed the Arabian desert of the Jordan, setting off from their administrative office on the Sinai Peninsula.

Fourteen men, total, on camel back witnessed a great dust cloud swarming on the sparse frontier and proceeded to dismount. As the last heel sunk into the sand a hollow noise and wretched smell began to affect the air. Soon enough the pale and torn legs of a goat appeared from under the sand with the wild bray of a drunken maniac.

Three months later a blind white man was briefly witnessed huddled in the rear of a Bedouin tent, mumbling indecipherably and rocking. Sgt. Loye is to this day the only known survivor, though his family, upon his return to England, would say that he died in the desert and was never found.

5

9 10 1 78 1

13

Creative Arts

By Michael Veremans

6

2

Azazel of the Desert

The Elevator

By Ryan Kobane “Nate, wake up. I think I heard something! Nate, stop fucking around, I think someone may be outside.”

“You’re hearing shit again. That’s just the wind, just like it’s been the wind the last ten times you thought someone was coming to help.”

“Someone could be out there, you don’t know. HELP HELP! WE NEED HELP!” “Stop fucking screaming, it’s useless and it’s killing my goddamn ears.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can stand this Nate. My whole body won’t stop shaking I’m so hungry.”

“Listen, someone has to be looking for us by now.”

“What if they’re not? What if no one ever finds us? NATE I CAN’T DIE LIKE THIS! I can’t die in an elevator.”

“Kelly. Kelly. KELLY!” “What?”

“I don’t think Nate’s breathing!”

“Well what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know, but we have to do something.”

“You should eat him.”

“WHAT!” “You should eat him.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not eating Nate, I’m not even sure if he’s dead.”

“If we don’t eat soon we’re going to be dead just like Nate. I know it’s fucked up, but if we don’t eat soon we’re going to be dead just like Nate.

“Guys, guys! KELLY! NATE! Someone’s out there, I fucking hear something. It’s not just the wind. I hear people talking. HELP HELP HELP HELPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!

“Hello? Holy shit man, is there someone in there?”

“YES! THANK GOD! There are three of us in here and we’ve been in here for weeks.”

“Ok. I’ll go get help. Just hold on for a few hours and I’ll be back with help, ok?”

“Just hurry. Kelly and Nate haven’t said much for a few days, I think they may be sick.”

“Son are you ok?”

“I’m fine, but Nate and Kelly aren’t doing so well.”

“Stand back, we’re gonna break the door down.”

Womb Raider

By Damien Kachooloo

The table was cold metal and the plastic straps chafed Denise’s wrists fiercely. The multitude of tall strangers peered down at her silently. They were preparing for something, and Denise was sure she didn’t want to find out what. Her head pounded from the car crash earlier that night, and the strangers’ bandages itched just as painfully.

She had suffered a flat tire on the highway; that was the last thing she remembered. Then she woke up on the table, stark naked, bound at the ankles, thighs, elbows, and wrists.

One of the strangers wheeled out a small cart with a small, toad-like creature with pale blue skin. The strangers all turned their faces away and the creature leapt between Denise’s legs. Denise screamed and kicked, but the creature was too strong and pried her legs apart. She could feel it clawing its way inside of her when one of the strangers slammed a syringe into her neck.

She woke up in her own bed, trying desperately to convince herself it was just a dream despite the obvious bulge that had formed in her belly. She cautiously searched her house for signs of the strangers, and

12

finding none she dressed quickly and left. A blinking display on her local bank gave the date as March 7th, almost 2 weeks since the night of the flat tire (which was now curiously repaired). The Planned Parenthood clinic refused to destroy the creature, and Denise’s insistence that it was the spawn of an alien race did not help. She went home and poured herself glass after glass of rum and pondered how exactly she would kill the monster growing inside of her. She settled on the coat hanger— the most destructive and vicious thing she could possibly imagine. She was going to teach this outer space piece of shit why you don’t invade other people’s bodies.

She sat on the bathroom floor and stared at the bent metal wire for what must’ve been an hour.

Prepare for the pain, she told herself, because it’s going to be so much worse later. She gritted her teeth and lowered the wire into position. A spike of pain washed over her and she could feel the thing squirming angrily. She winced momentarily before steeling herself for the attack. And just before she could move to stab the horrible creature to death, a tiny claw burst from her stomach and gripped the coat-hanger wire.

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

29 October 2007

By Kathy Miranda

I

can barely open my eyes. The harsh taste of iron and salt linger in my mouth. The smell of sweat and urine make it hard to breathe. The darkness is blinding.

I take aimless steps forward and back, bumping into walls, unaware of what lies in front, in back or behind me. The air is thick and slimy. How long I’ve been here, I can’t even say.

Last I remember was seeing an empty bottle of whiskey and a pack smokes sitting on the far end of the bar. The Airliner was empty. Only the loners surrounded me. The perverts, the recluses. All trying to find comfort at the bottom of the bottle. Was I becoming one of them?

The image of Julia comes to mind. In a sea of

darkness, she brings me the only light. I loved her. Sure, I had a unique way of showing it. When I wasn’t drunk, when she wasn’t covered in bruises, crying, yelling, wanting—waiting to leave, to escape, we were happy, we had fun…right? What was I thinking? She hated me. Julia was beautiful but she was timid. She was vulnerable. She needed someone to love her, to control her. The power she gave me was inconceivable. She gave me purpose.

And selfishly, I took advantage.

My mind is rambling. Where the fuck am I? The darkness is daunting. You become unconscious to reality. Have I been living my life like this all this time?

“Someone get me outta here!” I’m screaming now,

panicked, genuinely afraid. The walls are closing in on me. What have I done?

“Turn on the fucking lights!” Still screaming.

Nothing left to do but wait. Wait to die. I close my eyes and whisper to myself, “Julia, I’m sorry.”

A sudden mist of smoke pervades the room. Fluorescent yellow lights flicker, faintly lighting the space. I observe my surroundings. No doors, no windows. Still can’t see.

The flickering stops and a bright white light makes its presence from the ceiling.

Julia. Hanging by the neck from the beams of the vaulted celing. Smeared blood stains the wall with her last words: I will always love you.

Cat Attack

By Katie Reinman

The skies were glowing orange, and the air was thick with smoke. It had been years since she had last seen a blue sky. Her skin hung on her frail frame, her eyes sunk back into her head and her feet fell heavily upon the broken concrete. She turned the corner, only three more blocks’ til she would be back in the one room run down apartment she shared with four other members of her family. The streets were empty.

She had noticed this at first, but she didn’t mind, she rarely got a chance to be alone.

But where were the children who were always playing tag in the street and those who would sit out on their porches waiting for their loved ones to come home. Their absence began to chill her bones. She became cautious of her surroundings; where was everyone?

She turned another corner. No one. She strained to hear the faint sound of a car

engine, but there was nothing. Her pace quickened as she continued her desolate walk home. Some cans crashed on the street in front of her, she jumped and stopped dead in her tracks. A black cat jumped out from between two trashcans and stretched its back. She did not move. At first it seemed the cat did not see her, but as soon as it lifted its head, it’s eyes locked onto hers. Tears began streaming down her face. She felt as if her eyes were slowly being carved out of her head. Her nose began bleeding, and her body was becoming weaker. The cat’s stare stayed consistent as the girl began to scream. As she laid in the street, unable to move, more cats were appearing from every dark shadow. The first cat then walked towards her, opened it’s mouth and let it’s teeth dig into her flesh. The rest began to follow, and slowly the girl was eaten alive.

Creative Arts

The Dark Night

Zombie

By Ashley Weis

Isabelle was always intuitive. So when she woke up that day feeling like something had taken up residence in her stomach and then died, she knew something was up. Her coffee had no taste, the shower was like ice and oddly enough, there was no traffic whatsoever as she made her way to work. Rather than let it get to her she took the lack of cars as a blessing as she would actually be able to arrive at her job early. But still, she knew something was going on.

She pulled into the parking garage at work and started towards the doctor’s office where she worked. Immediately she noticed that not only were there no cars in the lot, but the building was completely dark—something extremely out of the ordinary. The nauseous Long Beach Union Wkly Oct. 29 feeling in her stomach was beginning to worsen and she wished she had called in sick that day. But she ignored it and let herself in to the office to start on her tasks for the day.

Revolution m o d n o C

Within minutes she heard the door open and the familiar sound of her boss’s heels clickclacking on the cold linoleum. Feeling relieved at the thought of seeing another human being, she spun around only to find her boss standing in front of her, but looking terribly sick—her skin cracked and blue, her eyes glazed over and focused slightly off to the left, and her walk had become more of a stagger.

She stood there with a blank expression on her face. Isabelle opened her mouth to speak but it felt as if someone had sucked every last breath she had straight from her lungs.

The feeling of death in her stomach was worsening—it was almost as if she herself was dying. That’s when it hit her—she was. Realizing that there was very little that she could do at this point (it would only be a short while before everyone succumbed to the same fate) and feeling to weak to fight it, she let it take over her body. She was finally one of them.

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949-366-9977 conrev.com 29 October 2007

Halloween Has Never Been This Sexy Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

13

ConocoPhillips

INTERNSHIP &VOLUNTEER FAIR THURS. NOVEMBER 1ST

11:00 AM - 3:00 PM USU Ballroom

A few of the internship employers Attend the 07Universal, InternshipThe & Volunteer include: NBC Disney Fair Thursday, November 1, 11am-3pm at the College Program, and Universal Univerity Student Union Ballroom. This is Music Group,way just to a few. an excellent to name get valuable experience in your major.

You can find volunteer opportunities at the California Mentoring Initiative for Nearly 50 employers will be recruiting for Youth and the Los internships andDisabilities volunteerand positions.

A few of the internship include: Angeles County employers Community Development Commission.

- Port of Los Angeles - Toyota Sales regarding the For moreMotor information -Internship Los Angeles Unified School and Volunteer FairDistrict visit the -Career PeaceDevelopment Corps Center - Working Wardrobes for a New Start Website at http://careers.csulb.edu.

- DreamWorks Animation

Click on Internship and Volunteer Fair for current list of employers.

Foramore information regarding the Internship and Volunteer Fair, visit the Career Development Center website at http://careers.csulb.edu.

Click on Internship and Volunteer Fair for a current list of employers.

You’re STUCK Here! By Victor! Perfecto

[Comics]

yourestuckhere@gmail.com

Crossword puzzles provided by BestCrosswords.com. Used with permission.

Girly-Girl by Christopher Troutman

Across

www.funatronics.com/kookoo

Ask Father Holey

myspace.com/askfatherholey

54- Umbrella 58- Ancient musician 62- Spoken 63- Rate 66- Mimic 67- Trigonometric function 68- Surrounded by 69- Jump lightly 70- Codlike fish 71- Crackers 72- Class

Down 1- Molecular component 2- Destiny 3- Dry and waterless 4- Prescription 5- Metaphysics 6- Sea arm 7- And so on 8- Indian form of address 9- Fragrant resin 10- Loud, deep utterance, especially used by lions 11- Impulse to act 12- Frozen treats 13- American space agency 21- Mongrel dog 23- Flower segment 25- Cereal grass 26- Pains 27- Valuable collection

28- Pertaining to people 29- Pop’s partner 31- Yale student 32- Lute of India 33- Coniferous evergreen forest 34- Horse race venue in England 39- Eccentric 40- Bird homes 41- Monetary unit of Burma 42- The treatment of cancer 44- Law enforcement agency 48- Small low island 49- Take into custody 51- Every sixty minutes 52- San Antonio landmark 54- Luxurious 55- La Scala solo 56- Social standing 57- Sheltered, nautically 59- Distasteful 60- Vessel 61- Drink to excess 64- Also 65- Tavern

HARD

Koo-Koo & Luke by Jesse Blake

1- From a distance 5- Corpulent 10- Undoing 14- Shipping deduction 15- Pertaining to birth 16- Killer whale 17- Auricular 18- Greek goddess of fortune 19- Matures 20- Physician 22- Emblem 24- Monetary unit of Afghanistan 25- Off-Broadway theater award 26- Sebaceous cyst 30- Outer coat of a seed 35- French vineyard 36- Obtained 37- Assumed name 38- Namesake 41- Tactful 43- Elude 44- Island of Denmark 45- Gone by 46- Transmits 47- Card game 50- Baht spender 53- Lever for rowing

Mmm! Comics! Yay! Send them to editor Victor Camba: yourestuckhere@gmail.com Or drop them off at the Union office Student Union Office 256a

29 October 2007

Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper

15

VOLUME 61

GRUNION.LBUNION.COM

Apple releases iPatch in time for Halloween

Headlines

Area Man’s Oedipus Costume Leads to Complex

Such a Motherfucker: There is comfort in the fact that tubes were indeed tied.

Bay-Area Zombie Strictly Eats Tofumans

Arnold Fails to Find Humor in Bush’s “Flamer” Jokes

‘APPY ALLOWEEN, MATE. LONDON

See Long Jobs Silver page 2

ISSUE 9

See Too Soon page 11

Lone Standing House in Fire-Ravaged Neighborhood Burdened by Escalated Trick-or-Treating Responsibilities

By Calamitous Jones GRUNION PEA COAT

A

fter returning to their almost completely fire-ravaged neighborhood Saturday, homeowners Tom and Debbie Hawthorne were amazed and overjoyed to discover that their home was spared, standing as a singular edifice among the otherwise charred remains of what was once their wellmanicured street.

Upon returning, the Hawthornes waved politely to the surrounding families standing at the feet of what used to be their living space, proceeded back into their still-standing house and began watching television. But their homecoming would be abruptly interrupted.

“We realized pretty quickly that Halloween is coming up soon, so I sent Debbie out to buy some candy” said Tom from his back porch, staring out at his now scenic view. “But, I realized just after she left that out usual purchase of two jumbo bags of Milk Duds just might not be enough. I mean, we’re literally the only house still standing within two miles.”

Tom however, was quick to show his indignation at the predicament. “How the hell is this fair?” He demanded, adjusting his glasses and sighing. “I mean this is absolutely unjust. Why do I have to supply candy to the entire area? God really does have an odd way of showing his supposed unconditional love.”

Tom then attempted in vain to reach his wife

Debbie on her cell phone to tell her to get more candy, but got a busy signal, thus further igniting the anger in Tom. “Ha! Busy? With what I pay per month? Please.

I know for a fact that I have call waiting.”

In actuality, the grid was almost completely swamped with rescue and aid workers tracking down those in need as well as displaced families attempting to lo- So Many Fucking New Kids on This Block: I mean, come on! cate one another. Not to mention that many local cell towers had been something.”

At this point, Tom was struck with how badly damaged during the recent fire. unfair the situation was. “I mean its just unDebbie later pulled back into the driveway fair.

I’m always the one who has shitty things empty-handed, as the local CVS was closed happen to me, and here is just another perfect while the Ralph’s had burnt down. example of Tom Hawthorne getting screwed “Closed?” Tom yelled, meeting her in the over.

Might as well just call me Willie Loman driveway, “How is CVS closed? Its twenty-four hours! How am I supposed to buy Halloween for Christ-sake.”

Several hours later Debbie returned with candy for the entire goddamn world if CVS, of several massive bags of candy from a nearby all places, is closed?”

Debbie then attempted to console her hus- Costco, further infuriating Tom, who was band, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder upset about the money spent on a Costco but found that Tom was inconsolable. “Don’t membership and gas. He then sunk into a pity touch me. Just go buy some goddamn candy. party.

“This is just my life, one problem after the A jumbo bag of dum-dums is not going to cut it either. Get some fun sized snickers or other, I guess I should just get used to it.”

My Peers Need To Start Taking Halloween a Little More Seriously

By Alec Tompkins GRUNION SCHNOOKUMS

Deadheads: Other zombie friends sick and tired of constant preaching,.

Coors Announces “Silver Bullet” Now Safe For Werewolves

Here we are again. All Hallow’s Eve. Just another Western holiday watered-down to a point where it scarcely resembles the pagan ritual it was born from.

What a pathetic parade we have become.

Although I have long been exposed to the parody that is October 31st, I was not prepared for the farce of Mrs. Kessinger’s 4th grade class.

It started years ago, back in Kindergarten.

At the time, my parents still insisted on dressing me in ridiculous costumes; cute little outfits that were more vanity projects for them than means of expression for me. I complied nonetheless, dressed in my pumpkin suit, but my disgust was festering. In my 5th year of life, I would humour them no longer.

That year I went as the Lindbergh baby. I figured if I were to partake in this ridiculous charade, I would do so in a way that refuses to conform to the standards set out for me and my age group. There would no longer be any pumpkin costumes, nor ninjas, princes or firefighters. It would be my own Halloween celebration, an act of nihilism: I would have nothing to do with either the celebration of the dead, nor the laughable American routine.

My outfits would be dictated by the cultural and political landscape of the time.

My Lindbergh costume, for instance, was a commentary on the lost youth of America.

The next year, I came to school draped in an American flag, drenched in sugar custard, an obvious metaphor for post-911 faux-patriotism. As would be expected, no one, not even my 2nd grade teacher, picked up on the cynicism. She thought instead I had a cupcake binge before class. Trollop.

Halloween of my 3rd grade year was what I believed to be well-thought-out protest on the information age, specifically big kid’s reliance on social-networking sites to interact with one another. My mother, damn her,

thought otherwise, and would not let me out of the house dressed in her slip, mascara running down my face, with a webcam ductaped to my forehead.

The next year was spent in a quaint psychiatric home in the Nebraska countryside under strict observation by one Dr. Fredrick Miller.

While Dr. Miller was a relatively intelligent man, he was also a proud one, and I was able to return home after I showered him in constant, childlike awe.

So here I am now, in Mrs. Kessinger’s 4th grade class, and my peers have remained livestock to the slaughter.

Just look at poor Tommy Hall: He was a Native American last year, and this year he shows up as Christopher Columbus. Does anyone else see the irony in that? If said irony was intentional, I would have considered it to be viable satire. But of course, it was not, and Tommy just waltzed into the class, perfectly content with himself, ready to gorge his already portly figure with sugar and corn syrup.

And then there is that Raven Sellers, whose parents consider themselves to be avant-garde and chose to let their child make her own costume using recycled household items. Yes, Raven, I understand you are supposed to look like a witch behind that dress made of newspaper and plastic, but you look like a heap of trash.

Get fucked Tommy. Get fucked Raven.

Disclaimer: The Grunion is now more than 3 decades old, and we have only become more debonair with age. But there is one thing that has not changed in our epic, occasionally violent history: We still are neither ASI nor GOP. The views and opinions explicitly stated or alluded to on this page still do not represent the views and opinions of the CSULB campus, nor do they necessarily adhere to the moral fabric of the writers. We do this to secure the cheap seats in the deeper, more satirical bowels of Hell, and because the elephant in the room is becoming a bit of a sass-mouth. Send rags to earlgrey@lbunion.com.

Boogity! Boogity!