68.03

Learn about Congress

by working in Congress!

Expenses paid, while you earn up to 20 credits.

No matter what your major, if you’re an outstanding undergraduate (junior or senior) student leader with a strong academic record and a commitment to community or public service, apply now for a Panetta

Congressional Internship.

Each fall, the Panetta Institute for Public Policy, located on the beautiful Monterey Peninsula, provides selected California students a rigorous two-week training course on the workings of the U.S. Congress, then sends them to Washington, expenses paid, for 11 weeks of service to a California member of the U.S. House of Representatives. While in Washington, you’ll also attend special seminars with government leaders, journalists and policy experts. And with the submission of an experiential journal and a research paper, you will earn up to 20 academic credits at your school.

For more about the program qualifications and application process, go to:

www.csulb.edu/students

Open to junior and senior students at all CSU campuses, plus Santa Clara University and Dominican University of California. Apply thorough the office of the Vice President for Student Services. Travel to and from Washington, housing expenses and a stipend will be covered by the program.

ISSUE 68.03 KEVIN O’BRIEN Editor-in-Chief

ANDY KNEIS

Managing Editor

CLAY COOPER

Managing Editor

CHELSEA STEVENS Opinions Editor

NOAH KELLY

Campus Director

KATY PARKER Literature Editor

MARCO BELTRAN Entertainment Editor

kevinob.union@gmail.com andyk.union@gmail.com clay.union@gmail.com chelsea.union@gmail.com noah.union@gmail.com katy.union@gmail.com marcob.union@gmail.com

KEVIN-SENT A LETTER LIKE NOTHING ELSE

MICHAEL MERMELSTEIN merm.union@gmail.com Music Editor

CHRIS FABELA

cfab.union@gmailcom

LEO PORTUGAL

leop.union@gmail.com

Comics Editor Culture Editor

JEFF BRIDGES

jeffbridges.grun@gmail.com

CLAY COOPER

clay.union@gmail.com

Actor, Grunion Editor

Art Director

GABE FERREIRA

Assistant Art Director

gabe.union@gmail.com

JEFF CHANG

jeff.chang.art@gmail.com

CONNOR O’BRIEN

connor.union@gmail.com

Head Illustrator/Cover Photo Editor

CHRIS FABELA

On-Campus Distribution

cfab.union@gmail.com

ANDY KNEIS

andyk.union@gmail.com

STEVE BESSETTE

steveb.union@gmail.com

Web Editor

Advertising Executive Contributors:

MIKE PALLOTTA, PARKER CHALMERS, MATTHEW TOWLES, BRYAN WALTON, JAMIE KARSON, COLLEEN BROWN, FOLASHADE ALFORD, DEVIN O’NEIL, STEPHANIE HERNANDEZ, SOPHI MAISE, STEPHANIE PEREZ, JEFF BAER, COREY LEIS, MARY FUHRMAN, DEBORAH ROWE, ALLISON O’DELL, JACKIE ROSAS, PATRICK MCNALLY, ADRIENNE SHULTZ, ALISON ERNST, LISA VAN WIJK, JANTZEN PEAKE, RICHARD LEVINSON, NICOLE STREET, JESSICA MEISELS, KELSEY WEHSELS, JACKIE ROSAS, TANNER PARKER, KEVIN JORGE-CRUZ, CHRIS PAGE, MICHAEL IACOUCCI, JILLIAN WOLF, DANIEL PEREZ, VINCENT CHAVEZ, MONICA HOLMES, BRANDON STUHL, CHRISTINA MOTT, SHANE RUSING, KEVIN NICHOLSON, CHELSEA HOBBY, SARA HATAKEYAMA, KATIE BROWN, DANIEL SERRANO, JORDAN MAEVE, CHRIS COLEMAN, MARLON DELEON, ALLISON HUITT, JILLIAN THOMAN, KIMBERLY TORREZ, JARRED BLUNK, TYLER STAFFORD, JUSTIN JUNG, WES VERNER, KEVIN NG

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, 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 may or may not be edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, and length. The Union Weekly will publish anonymous letters, articles, editorials and illustrations, but 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.

Questions? Comments?

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I

KEVIN O’BRIEN EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

n the hours before my brief interview with Dr. Cornel West, I had honed my single question into a concise and referential inquiry. It was intended to sound as follows: “Dr. West, in your past speeches, you have touched on how love is about priorities. Where do you think a college student in 2011 should place their priorities?” But in the moment, after Dr. West graciously made his way around the room, meeting and speaking to everyone, my question was pockmarked with pauses and breaks.

In contrast, Dr. West’s response was eloquently thorough, stating that “…first you want a love of wisdom, which means you want to be disciplined, you want to work hard, you want to defer gratification and pursue the kind of intellectual work that’s very important here at Cal State University, Long Beach. But the love of wisdom ought to be tied to the love of justice.

So there ought to be some kind of internal work here at the university or extracur-

Photo

CHRISTINA ESPARZA CONTRIBUTOR

ricular activity; be it mentoring, connecting to prisons, young people, something that shows that you are concerned about something that is larger than just yourself and your own career.”

The “internal work at the university” that Dr. West encourages college students to pursue can be realized at the Union Weekly newspaper. Anyone reading this newspaper has the opportunity to contribute. Be it an article, an illustration, or a photograph, anyone at any time can submit work to the Union Weekly for publication the following week. In doing so, they will demonstrate that they are secure enough to present their work to the rest of the student body for consideration in the hopes of making a very basic and broad connection.

At the recent ASI Info Day on the Southwest Terrace, students seemed unaware that there was a venue on campus in which they could express themselves to other students. That is the primary pur-

pose of the Union Weekly: to propagate student opinion between other students regardless of department or program.

The quality of the content is secondary, spelling and grammar can be corrected and ideas can be questioned and considered before publication. The only prerequisite is student participation. You don’t need to be a seasoned writer or a talented photographer—you just need to be a student willing to concern yourself with the rest of the student body. As Dr. West said you’d be doing, “…something that shows that you are [concerned] about something larger than just yourself and your own career.” Its easy to remain isolated, it takes courage to step into the public forum and show your fellow student’s some love. We just want to help.

Ask Away!

Finished the paper but still have questions or comments? Send them to the editor at kevinob.union@gmail.com!

DID YOU GET THE MERMO? MERM PUTS HIS DEGREE TO WORK MICHAEL MERMELSTEIN MUSIC EDITOR

Within the past month, the Middle East has been boiling over as revolution and rumors of revolution have changed everything we thought we knew about that tumultuous region. The narrative coming out from the major news networks is how this situation affects American interests and actions in the area.

Does the Middle East’s democratic awakening validate Bush’s presidency? Does it threaten our allies in Israel? And so on.

However, this clouds the really exciting stuff going on in Egypt and Tunis. When Ayatollah Khamenei came meddling in Egypt’s affairs, the Egyptian group “The Muslim Brotherhood” spurned Khamenei’s advances, instead insisting that Egypt’s revolution was a people’s revolution, not an Islamic revolution.

Indeed, reports coming out of the region have suggested a nebulous non-hierarchical collaboration of students, Christians, leftists, Muslims, and countless other political groups working together without any concerns over leadership or supremacy.

Political theorists that I am quite fond of, Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, refer to this democratic organization as “the multitude”: a political body that cannot be reduced to simplistic goals or selfish partisanship. It remains to be seen whether such an organization can maintain strength in the face of mounting pressure and sobering realities of instituting a stable government.

However, the actions in January 2011 in Tunis and Egypt and the 2009 election

riots in Iran clearly hint at the shifting nature of political activism and organization going into this young century.

The power of the internet has been central in all of these protests. While some will try and criticize the effectiveness of the internet in light of the continued protests in Egypt after their internet capabilities were shut off, we should keep in mind that the biggest contribution of the internet is not in its use as a telecommunication device. Instead as a reminder that power does not have to be hierarchical as it is in modern governments, but can be as diffused and “horizontal” as the internet itself or these all-inclusive political movements we should expect to see on the news more and more frequently.

UNION WEEKLY

7 FEBRUARY 2011

OPINIONS

Illustration

CHRIS FABELA OPINIONS EDITOR

NECROPINIONS

MY ZOMBIE SIDEKICK ALISON ERNST

STEVE BESSETTE

UNION STAFFER

In the likely event of a zombie apocalypse, I would track down zombie-hunter Jesse Eisenberg. His character Columbus in the excellent movie Zombieland actually survives with relatively few close calls with the zombies. Using his tactics and knowledge (aka by employing “The Double Tap” and being wary of bathrooms), we could easily outsmart the undead and help locate other survivors.

Zombies are a nasty bunch, but are more easily conquered with an expert in the field. All government facilities devot-

VIEWS ON NECROPHILIA UNION STAFFER

ed to disease prevention will be assumed overrun with the zombie population and thus be unsafe for the living.

In such a case, it would be better to sit everything out in the local Costco. Why Costco? Because Costco has absolutely everything you could possibly need from food to tents and even cars; you only need to reinforce the doors. Costco provides a safehaven to wait for the natural decay of zombies. Eventually the undead will die out from starvation and allow for the survivors to once again rule the land.

There was this idiot I knew a while ago, I think he was two or three years younger than me, roughly resembling a mixture between between a hamster’s scrotum and Macauley Culkin, who actually, physically stated as pure truth and hard fact that he himself “didn’t condone necrophilia, but didn’t necessarily condemn it.” He said that if someone got into that situation, he probably wouldn’t watch, but he’d just let it go, like just leave the room and let what happens happen. This was probably just a bullshit red herring type announcement to get the guilt off his chest

after killing his elderly neighbor and sticking his formaldehyde-lubed penis into this poor dude’s dead butt. People were so grossed out that they didn’t even think that this was a plan to just talk it out. Also he said he had a fetish for being scratched really hard by “girls’” fingernails. My friend made a monologue for drama class out of this conversation and the kid got mad. Then my friend asked the kid to go out to dinner to talk with him and make fun of him the whole time and the kid agreed as long as my friend paid for it all. Anyway, necrophilia is dumb.

BURIED VS. CREMATED MIKE TAYLOR

JESSICA MEHSELS UNION STAFFER

This question provokes fierce debate amongst my family and friends. Quite frankly, both totally freak me out, because I have an added factor: I am terrified of being buried or cremated alive. This is a serious issue that plagues me on a dayto-day basis. There was no fucking way anyone was dragging me to see Buried, no matter how hot Ryan Reynolds sweating it out in a coffin for two hours may be.

Although the greatest relief would be to pull a Death Becomes Her, I reluctantly pick being laid to rest in the ground UNION WEEKLY

7 FEBRUARY 2011

UNION STAFFER

(where, if I was alive, I could choke myself to death and rest peacefully amongst the worms eating my liver) over being cremated (where, if I was alive, I would be SLOWLY BURNING AND FRYING my insides and would have to endure the pain before being turned to pieces of dust for Keith Richards to snort). I’m hoping by the year 3050, when I am ready to die, that I can simply live on as one of those weird bobbly heads from Futurama where no mobster can throw me in a trunk and watch me slowly get toasted.

When my dull, pathetic, and boring life finally comes to a halt, it will be marked with a lame funeral procession. A few poor saps, wearing black clothes, will try to force a few precious tears from their face. What’s worse, with my career ambitions involving writing and journalism, I won’t have anything of monetary value to give away as part of a will.

Those assholes better not use that against me and ruin my plans to get cremated when I perish. Being buried seems like a waste of space and gross. And I’m claustrophobic, so

that’s not going to work out for me. Cremation is the way to go. When I am cremated, I feel like I have some pretty cool plans as opposed to being spread around some exotic body of water or my “homeland,” which seems like a selfish way of dirtying up a place that you supposedly love.

Simple rules for whoever’s in charge: cremate me, use my ashes to cut some cocaine, and make sure it lands in the nostrils of Charlie Sheen. Don’t laugh about Chuck outliving me; his healthy diet of hookers and blow will keep him around until at least 2103.

OPINIONS DISMEMBERING MY INNOCENCE CHELSEA STEVENS

KATY PARKER

OPINIONS EDITOR

My view of my calm, comforting (east side) Long Beach hometown was changed forever on a frightful May evening of last year. I was visiting with a friend who came home for summer break when our Yogurtland excursion was interrupted by an unexpected call from her mother. An old family friend of theirs, Daniel Wozniak, had been detained by the police and was the prime suspect of a double homocide.

This wasn’t just any murder, mind you: this sick fuck dismembered his victims, Dexter style, and hid their parts in East Long Beach and Los Alamitos.

There’s a more terrifying side to this story than my best friend being associated with the murderer. No, the truly disturbing part of this nightmare was that the dude scattered his victims’ parts in El Dorado

MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT LITERATURE EDITOR

Nature Center, which happens to be my place of employment.

As a loyal Long Beach citizen, the Nature Center was my childhood stomping ground.

Most of my 10-year-old memories consist of being chased by skunks and angry ducks along its dirt trails and crickety wooden bridges. Now I can’t set foot in there without imagining a decapitated head floating behind me as I sprint away, snot and tears flying from my face.

Wozniak didn’t only take the lives of two Long Beach 20-something’s that night; he raped and plundered my childhood. I hope he knows what he’s done.

Illustrations

Hello, sexy descendants. I’m freshly dead, which means the year is roughly 2103. Like Virginia Woolf, I have filled the pockets of my overcoat with heavy things and gone out for a walk. It didn’t work though. I don’t know how she did it. So instead I’m going to pull this giant pile of old Daily 49er issues on top of myself and wait for the bad writing, poor layouts, and utter lack of self-awareness to suffocate and poison me. God, it’s dreadful.

This was all pre-meditated.

I figured that by age 115, I wouldn’t be as cute and lovable anymore and therefore useless as

KIMBERLY TORREZ CONTRIBUTOR

a person to you all. I was wrong, but it was time to go anyway. Hopefully you’ve found these specifications printed in this ancient copy of the Union Weekly. I knew ahead of time that you would be sexy.

Please just get me out of the house. I had a friend who was fond of poodles. In fact, every time her alarmingly strange family had managed to kill another pet poodle, the dog would be cremated, boxed, and then displayed somewhere in the house. I spent the entirety of my life having people stare at me uncomfortably, having people approach with friendly curiosity and then stagger away in disgust.

No more of this. Mix me with some glitter and wear me as eyeshadow. You will be helping to preserve the three whales we have left in the world. I don’t know. Figure it out!

WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH AN ARMY OF DEAD BODIES? LEO PORTUGAL

MIKE IACOUCCI

CULTURE EDITOR

Last week I was rummaging through an antique shop, rubbing all kinds of things, as I do. I was there with my little brother, and he was all like, “Leo, why the heck are you rubbing everything? You’re so annoying.”

Then I grabbed a dusty old lamp, and I made a dumb joke about rubbing it until a genie came out. “That’s such a dumb joke,” my brother said. Little did he know that the lamp actually was home to a magical genie, and my brother was the real dummy.

A purple cloud of smoke took the form of a genie, and he called me his master and informed me that he would grant me three wishes. Obviously, the first thing I wished for was “an army of dead,” and poof, thousands upon thousands of corpses materialized around me. A thousand stupid dead corpses that just laid there being dead. I puked so much. It

UNION STAFFER

turned out that this genie was one of those classic prankster genies. And worst of all, the lamp was lost in the tons of stinky dead bodies and I couldn’t find it again to make more wishes. Also, my brother was buried in the rotting mess. Search parties have yet to find him.

But there I was, stuck with a bunch of dead bodies. And what could I do with them? It was quite the conundrum.

I mean, you know what I always say, “Waste not, want not.” It’s a saying I invented for when I’m eating everyone’s leftovers at the dinner table and I don’t want people to think I’m a fatty.

In the end, I didn’t want to eat the bodies, so I guess I pretty much wasted a bunch of perfectly good cadavers. I feel bad about it, though.

his chest. “Son of a—don’t leave, no, no, no don’t…” but he was already making his way to the pool in the backyard. I saw him walk over the edge and unceremoniously fall into the water with the others. I think they like to swim since they don’t need to hold their breath.

“Billy?” I called. “Can you get the mop please? Is my computer charged?”

“Muhhg.”

I thought that meant yes, so I left to find a place on the couch, having lost my appetite. I sat down between two of the fresher members of the house and started for the remote.

“I am not watching Jersey Shore again, you guys.”

The zombie holding the remote glared at me, and proceeded to shove the channel changer under his exposed ribs.

I let out a sigh. “Mindless.”

JUSTIN JUNG

WES VERNER

CONTRIBUTOR

CONTRIBUTOR

If I had an army of dead bodies, presumably zombies, I would buy a large, rundown mansion. “But Wes,” you might be saying, “those two things don’t have anything to do with each other.” “Okay,” I say. “Have I finished? No. So shut up and let me stay on my soapbox!” Also presumably, these zombies would be under my control.

Ergo, they would not attempt to feast on my delicious, lean, white meat. Anyone else, however, is subject to a severe ass-chewing (literally) if not prepared.

So my plan is this: put the zombies into the mansion, add some freaky lighting,

“Seriously? Again?”

I had told them a thousand times to watch where their stray parts fall off. I was particularly annoyed at loose digits, but there had been far worse things to find, believe me. I was staring at a seemingly fine bowl of Frosted Flakes; seemingly fine except for the half of an index finger bobbing in the milk.

“Hey, Joel.” I said.

“Ungggh.”

“Bro. I know it’s not too much to ask. And I’ve told you guys like a million times.” I’ve found it helps to exaggerate with them. The rotting thing shuffled into the kitchen where I was standing and I brandished the tainted cereal at him. “What the hell? I can’t eat this. Take it.”

He grunted, took the bowl from my hands, and poured it on

put areas that the zombies can’t get into inside with guns and ammo and other weapons, and then charge people five hundred bucks a head to live Left for Dead.

People go in, and they either come out with their three friends, or I now have anywhere from one to four new zombies.

Plus $1,200. That’s important. With the money, I go out and buy enough guns and ammo to restock the rooms, and keep everything else. People will flock to it. And why shouldn’t they? It’d be freaking awesome.

If I were to have my own army of undead warriors willing to do my every bidding, I would take over the world… financially. After some heavy drinking and a strangely erotic game of Risk, I decided that any legitimate endeavor toward world domination would only end with a Navy SEAL putting a round in the back of my skull. So, what do you do with legion of corpses? Sell them, of course! My business model revolves around a two pronged attack on the United States Military’s wallet. First I would take all the average sized ones, duct tape some turbans on them and market

them as “Anatomically-Correct Human Analog Training Targets,” also available in pirate and zombie configurations; zombie models costs extra.

Second, I would take all the “big boned” undead and stuff them each with 15 pounds of plastic explosives. The hunt for Osama Bin Laden would be over in a week. Just send one into every Afghani cave you see and BAM; sweet, sweet ironic vengeance. The rest I would probably just sell off to the Soylent Corporation. I don’t really know why they offer so much for dead people but I do know those green crackers they sell are freakin’ delicious!

UNION WEEKLY

7 FEBRUARY 2011

CAMPUS OF DR. CORNEL WEST SPEAKS STATE THE BEACH PACKED USU BALLROOM LISTENS

YOUR WEEKLY CAMPUS NEWS IN BRIEF

ANDY KNEIS MANAGING EDITOR

W

hen I got the news that Dr. Cornel West was coming to campus, and that I would have the opportunity to meet him, and ask him a question, I was excited, nervous, and a little hungry. I bought a sandwich and started contemplating my situation. These emotions combined with the 12-inches of Subway sandwich that were being ingested gave me the energy to begin my research for the perfect question.

Much like the Subway sandwich earlier, I filled myself with the meaty, freshly prepared knowledge of Dr. West.

His credentials were impressive: a professor at Princeton, and a graduate of Harvard. Not to mention his roles in the second and third Matrix movies, which is a pretty good start for a first time actor, I guess. Dr. West seems to have the ability to take subjects that are normally rather dry and make them not only accessible, but give them weight. When Dr. West speaks about people in poverty or other injustices in the world, he channels these peoples’ pain and makes you feel their frustration. Like he said in his speech, when asked why he’s always “on fire” (figuratively of course, Dr. West has never been literally on fire according to his Wikipedia page), he answers that it is because he is so filled with love. You feel

that love when he speaks.

As I waited for Dr. West to arrive, each passing moment made me more nervous. I just write dumb things in a newspaper, what do I have to say to such a smart guy? As soon as Dr. West entered the room, I was comforted. Despite just landing from his cross-country flight, he was full of energy and the aforementioned love. He gave everyone in the room a hug and a smile. Even though he was on a tight schedule, he somehow found time to chat with me about journalists in Egypt, answer a couple of our questions, then pose for a picture where we were hugging and smiling.

One thing that Dr. West spoke of that really stood out to me was his distinction between greatness and success, meaning that financial success does not make one great, but rather “finding joy in the serving of others” or some such smartness. I wanted to know how a college student like me, surviving off of a salary of change found in ASI couches, could still strive towards personal greatness. Dr. West’s answer was simple, but profound, “One can be the hardest working, best student they can be, and Alexander the Great can be a gangster... When you add on that discipline and love of wisdom, and that love of justice, that for me is the

definition of greatness.”

I had the college students in mind as well. You’re welcome. I was curious about Dr. West’s statement about how love is about priorities, so EIC Kevin O’Brien and I asked where our priorities should be as college students in 2011. Dr. West explained that a “love of wisdom” and being “disciplined” is “very important here at CSULB.” Along with a love of wisdom and learning, a college student should also get involved in “something that shows you’re concerned about something larger than yourself.”

That’s just what Dr. West said to us in the span of our five minute introduction.

He went on to speak for another hour and a half in front of hundreds students in the Student Union about so many different topics and subjects I wouldn’t even dare try to sum them up here. Also we weren’t allowed to record, but just transcribing the words wouldn’t do them justice. Dr. West’s mannerisms and inflections were just as important as what he said. Dr. West is the kind of speaker you find yourself nodding your head to everything he’s saying, and wanting to clap during each pause. His philosophies are based in love and equality, and I don’t think anyone can accuse him of not practicing what he preaches.

MARCO BELTRAN ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR

Hey Dungus Bags, this week in campus events: February 7-10, come to the Women’s Resource Center during operating hours to make some cards for everyone you love and for women and children in the local shelters/ safe houses. Make some for the people you hate just to show them that you’re better than them. I know I will. Basic supplies (glue, staples, some sparkles, some trims, miscellaneous) will be at your disposal. You are invited to add your own. Heart cards will be delivered to the shelters on Valentine’s Day! February 8-10 is SEX POSITIVE WEEK! Time to learn stuff about sex you didn’t know before like how to have safe sex and how to have a baby, which I was under the assumption happened when people got naked and shared their pee. Each day is a new event that will help you figure all that stuff out. And it’s sponsored by F.O.R.C.E., so you know it’s good! Visit http://www.csulb.edu/divisions/students/wrc/ calendar for the full list of events.

February 9, Our Women's Basketball team faces-off against Cal State Northridge at 7pm in the Walter Pyramid. I heard from a reliable source that we’re going to win by such a sizable margin that we’ll have to send them to the Pyramid Dungeon to work off the points! For further information or tickets call (562) 985-4949 or visit the Pyramid Dungeon for yourself.

February 11, the Bob Cole Conservatory of Music presents University Symphony Orchestra at 8pm in Gerald Daniel Recital Hall. These first few weeks of school have been a bit hectic for everyone because the bookstore hasn’t had some of the books available, so come out and relax to some sweet orchestra music. For further information or tickets, call (562) 985-7000.

February 12, Women's Tennis will racket Cal State Northridge to death with their furious serves and volleys at 12pm on campus tennis courts. For further information, call (562) 985-4949.

Also on February 12, Women's Basketball battles UC Davis in Walter Pyramid at 4pm. This one will be a can’t-miss event. They’re going to light the line around the court on fire. Loser gets to go to Northridge, a fate worse than death. For further information or tickets, call (562) 985-4949.

UNION WEEKLY

7 FEBRUARY 2011

CAMPUS

FOOTBALL REFERENDUMB I WISH I HAD NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN MAKE UNNECESSARY PETITIONS NOAH KELLY CAMPUS EDITOR

If you were one of the 2,325 people who signed the “Bring Back 49er Football Referendum Petition,” then you should probably stop reading, because I’m going to call you an idiot. Perhaps that’s too harsh, perhaps blindly optimistic and naive would be better.

Because more than 5% of the total school population (about 1,650) signed the petition, and these signatures were verified to be existing students, this petition will be a referendum. A referendum means that this will be held as a vote during the ASI spring elections, for students to vote for football to be brought back.

If you didn’t happen to see the petition that was circling around campus, it calls for the return of an NCAA football team, along with an attached women’s crew, lacrosse, and field hockey teams. The 49er football team was discontinued in 1991 due to “overall apathy and lack of fan support,” the petition states. What makes now a time where people would really be interested in football, I have no idea.

The petition outlines a fee increase of a cumulative $86 per semester over six years. Year one would be a $25 increase, and every year after that a variable amount would increase it until finally in year six the fee increase would be $86. There is a humorous note near the end of the petition that says, “The dollar amount determined is subject to an increase of up to 5 dollars based on a margin of error and subject to decrease as well.”

If this doesn’t sound that ridiculous already, then keep reading.

Starting off, one of the biggest problems facing the return of 49er football is money.

If the fees started off high at $91 a semester, and if CSULB had 40,000 students (which we don’t), then that kind of revenue would only be around $7 million, and that’s if we started off with the fees at the highest expected right off the bat, not six years down the road. Right now we’re looking at significantly less than $7 million, and that’s for football, lacrosse, field hockey, and crew. Football really would require around a $10 million investment, and that’s coming from our President F*King Alexander.

A $10 million investment up front would be on par with other CSUs that have football. Why that much money? Well, we have to provide scholarships for 85 students, we have to have coaches, assistant coaches, groundskeepers, a marching band, and oh yeah, a stadium we don’t have.

Not just including the stadium, but there’s also travel. Are we going to be in the Big West Conference like we already are?

No, we can’t because there is no football in the Big West Conference. We would have to try for the WAC or Pac-10 if anyone were to actually care about us. And even if we got into those conferences, who is going

to want to travel to Long Beach to play us?

Parking can barely accommodate students going to class, where are we going to fit the number of students, family, and local fans who are interested in watching a home football game?

If we can’t even fill the Pyramid with fans, how are we supposed to fill an entire stadium? Blair Field, where we play baseball, can only fit some 3,500. CSU systems like Fresno, San Diego, and San Jose have stadiums that fit between 30-70,000 people. We would need something 10 times the size of Blair Field to house a respectable football team, and where could we even put a stadium? How much money will it take to buy the land and then build a stadium on top of that?

Not only that but it’s a giant pain in the ass to put together a football team, let alone an NCAA competitive team. There’s also a big assumption that we’re going to be a division I team, instead of a more appropriate division II or III team. Can Long Beach really sustain a fan base for a football team that doesn’t play bigger name schools? The NCAA makes it incredibly difficult for schools to actually make any kind of money off of football. Only the biggest name schools are really participating, and even then they still get shafted on money. Alabama’s Crimson Tide went to their bowl game and earned $18.5 million, yet after everyone took their cut, like the SEC, and everyone got paid, and all travel expenses accounted for, the bowl game cost Alabama $1.8 million. If interest was flagging back in 1991 for the team, how would we be able to sustain a team in the environment that NCAA has created for schools?

“The NCAA has done nothing to help the mid level schools keep football,” President Alexander said. There is no spending cap for big schools like USC or UCLA on their program, which means we would have to compete with big name schools in recruiting, scholarships, and facilities.

We currently have 18 NCAA sanctioned sports teams, and that accounts for the 300 athletic scholarships we give out. The referendum proposes to add four more teams to that, and scholarships. As a school, as fans, as students, we don’t support the current teams we have, or any of the phenomenal club sports either. Our club crew and hockey travel all over the country playing in competitions already, why do we need another four teams we give a shit about for one week a year and that’s it?

To even begin to pay for just a football team, around $10 million, we would need to double the current proposed semester fees. Okay, so maybe $300 dollars a year extra doesn’t sound like all that much?

Well, couple that with the already increasing “best case scenario” fees coming in

the fall and we’re looking at a considerable increase. If the special vote in June doesn’t extend the current taxes, then we’re already looking at a 40% increase in our fees. “This is the worst time in the world to be thinking about football,” said President Alexander.

Football is an exorbitant amount of money that will keep continually costing the school in hidden ways. How is this something that CSULB can really absorb now, or even in any kind of future that would require not only fan interest, but expensive coaches, scholarships to attract high caliber players, and providing the facilities with which to play the sport?

The referendum, as petitioners signed, isn’t really up to the students to write what will be on the ballot. That responsibility falls upon Dr. Jeane Caveness (Assistant Dean of Students), Richard Haller (ASI Executive Director), and ASI Attorney General Karen Calicdan. Their task is to write the verbage that will appear on the ballot, and also their task to write a realistic proposal that reflects the petition. If you signed this

petition, do not expect to see the fee increase that President Alexander describes as “incredibly unrealistic.”

The most important aspect of this wholly unnecessary vote, is that this vote can’t actually force the school to adopt football, and the other three sports. This vote is merely a strong suggestion to President Alexander. He can choose to heed this suggestion, or not. So we asked him what he thought about the ballot actually succeeding. “I appreciate the input, and I love college football as much as the next person, but it’s just absolutely unrealistic to think that would be financially feasible,” Alexander said.

With the current financial crisis that is plaguing the CSU system right now, football is one of the last things we should be focusing on. And this is also with the dearest sympathies for the three NCAA women’s teams that are unfortunately going to be ignored due to the fact that football will be all of what anyone talks about. Maybe next year, crew team.

UNION WEEKLY

7 FEBRUARY 2011

MUSIC

DEAD BANDS AND THE DIRTY GROUND

WHITE STRIPES CALL IT QUITS STEVE BESSETTE UNION STAFFER

THANKS FOR THE MERMELRIES MICHAEL MERMELSTEIN MUSIC EDITOR

P

eople were fucking rolling in the streets, bawling their pretty eyes out when Michael Jackson died. I’m sure most of the baby boomers had their post-war hearts broken when The Beatles broke up. And there’s been hundreds of other bands, either legendary or personal, that have broken up and let their biggest fans down.

Wednesday was ultra shitty for me, because my favorite band, The White Stripes, ended it.

The White Stripes were one of the leading bands in the early 2000s that were bringing back music that sounded just plain rad. They had raucous energy, real emotion that didn’t emasculate you while listening, and a knack for making any situation seem either badass or gnarly. Right along with groups like The Strokes and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Stripes were bringing back true rock n’ roll amidst the shit that your local “rock” radio station played on loop. Musical ipecac like Linkin Park, Fallout Boy, and Nickelback were becoming the standard. It was terrible. Thank goodness for the Detroit garage rock wave.

That’s where The White Stripes began their revolution. Late ‘90s Detroit was a hotbed for simple rock n’ roll bands (usually with only two or three members each) that would later be pinned as the garage rock genre.

Jack and Meg White were easily the most famous band to come out of that area. Their first studio album came out in 1999, then De Stijl in 2000, which were both noisy, bluesy, lower quality recordings that defined their clear difference from everything else in those UNION WEEKLY

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days. Once White Blood Cells (hailing the song “Fell In Love With A Girl,” which MTV fell in love with) and Elephant arrived, Jack and Meg were officially a force to be reckoned with (because they would have beat you at everything awesome). Get Behind Me Satan, though mysteriously addicting, was where they started branching out from their brazen, rough-edged sound, being more piano-heavy and injecting plenty of xylophone. 2007’s Icky Thump was their last album, and also unfortunately their worst. The bag pipe infestation, coupled with boring lyrics and guitar passages that sounded like leftovers, Icky Thump was not a good resting place for the band.

I personally idolized the shit out of The White Stripes. Especially Jack, who really is an eternally heartbroken blues man stuck in an electric guitar slinging young man’s body. He got me to start smoking (for a while) and made me think, hey, wearing dress shoes and hats and stuff looks fucking cool.

The simplicity, the dynamic, the iconic peppermint stripes, the personality of Jack and Meg was branded as the definition of cool in my mind. Jack’s guitar was divided between high gain distortion, clean crunched shredding that sliced like a knife, and acoustic tune that sounded like he was born with both despair and old fashioned style in his fingertips. Oh, and also, next time you’re on YouTube, look for the It Might Get Loud trailer (or just rent the movie). Jack White is such a rock genius, that he makes a functioning guitar you could plug into an amp out of an old glass Coke bottle, a small block

of wood, a wire, and a nail. He can create rock n’ roll out of the worthless shit you find in a shed. Who fucking does that? Meg’s simple drumming, that many deemed “too easy” was the perfect envelope for Jack’s riffs. It helped retain that simple badass sound that basically manufactured adrenaline.

Watching videos of their live performances on YouTube or in the Under Great White Northern Lights documentary made me cringe with envy of the audience. With practically every song, it looked like Jack was having an outof-body experience, like the music was possessing his soul. The way he would fly into conniptions of wild solos and beat the shit out his strings until he would bleed over that sweet guitar (1964 JB Hutto Montgomery Airline, Google image that shit), then come back up to the microphone, stringy black hair covering his face, and belt out a string of speeding lyrics of a madman. Meg would always switch between looking calm and collected, bewitched by the beat, then launch into a wave of crashing cymbals to accommodate Jack’s frenzy. These guys weren’t just playing music, they were totally into it, enveloping themselves in this raw power they were simultaneously creating. Even though they said they will never perform live again, I’m going to hope that maybe one day they will. Bands reunite, sometimes. Anyway, fuck The Raconteurs, fuck The Dead Weather, yeah, you guys rock, I guess, objectively, but you’ll never, ever, ever be anywhere near as legendary as Jack and Meg’s little garage band from Detroit.

I feel like I have been pretty lucky in my brief tenure as music editor. I have spearheaded two feature articles on the state of the music industry both locally and globally, interviewed some cool people, and generally ran this page my way. Which is why last week I felt only a twinge of regret as I let Opinions step all up on my toes. It was for the better of the continuity of this paper after all. Plus I have been trying to do this thing this semester where I try and be less of a raging douche-bag, so live and let live, right? Sure Che‘LOLsea’s argument for the purity of music gave me a brain tumor, but it was coming from a deeply personal place of fear, and she has a right to worry about her future, lord knows graduate school is scaring the shit out of me, and I haven’t even been accepted anywhere yet.

It’s really easy for people our age to feel existentially connected to their tastes and beliefs. We have, after all, only had a mature outlook on the world since we were about 16. It is extremely easy to add a great amount of importance to these “fundamental understandings” we have about ourselves, and fight tooth and nail to keep these ideas fixed. It is extremely hard to dull the righteous anger I used to have over people disagreeing with me, which believe me I know is fucking ridiculous. An old joke within my group of friends is that I would dramatically exit a date if the girl hasn’t seen Blade Runner or in some other way wasn’t part of my “tribe.’” It’s this sort of playground, us vs. them attitude that can be really hard to curb.

The problem with this juvenile mentality is that it almost always is focused outwords. We are far more likely to criticize the behavior of hipsters, normal ass people, or white people who love Japanese culture, but very rarely do we do anything productive with our passions. We see this behavior all the time from that freshman in that G.E. Class we have been putting off for awhile who is a fucking Marxist damn it, and don’t you forget it, to that asshole at the party who won’t shut up about Radiohead. As much as I am trying to fight this intolerant impulse, there is one very prevalent attitude or “tribe” within our generation that I will absolutely throw down with any place or time, people who identify with an older generation. I appreciate the contributions Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, Jazz musicians, Renaissance Poets have made to modern life, but to worship them instead of creating work for our generation or celebrating people living and creating now is for me the highest form of treason.

While I go around campus trying to refrain from working the word “hate” into every sentence, nothing distracts me from this resolution quite like an “Abby Road” shirt. Instead of fetishistically worshipping the past, or masochistically flagellate their peers with charges of stupidity or moral bankruptcy, these people need to take off the rosy-red rear-view mirror and create value in the present. Or else fuck ‘em.

ENTERTAINMENT

ultimate Comedy boner Just visit the Upright citizens brigade theatre already LEO PORTUGAL CULTURE EDITOR

T

he Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre is the home and birthing place of amazing comedy with locations in Los Angeles and New York. It’s like a superhero of comedy, with two identities. By day it is a comedy school, teaching improvisation skills and comedy writing, and by night it is a showcase of great comedic talent.

Shows at the UCB are always inexpensive, usually costing $8 or less. You can go to a show at the UCB and see greats like Amy Poehler, Matt Besser, Paul Scheer and Rob Huebel on a nightly basis. I recommend wetting your comedy dick with Doug Benson’s free Tuesday night show, “Doug Loves Movies,” which features amazing comedians talking about movies every week, and follow that up with the “Comedy Death-Ray” show, which is a steal at $5.

The UCB does comedy right. When you go to a show, the focus is on what’s important—the comedy. The venue itself is

intimate, seating a small audience. Often, audience members will actually take a seat on the stage, just sitting on the floor right next to the performers. I’ve been a foot away from Charlyne Yi and Eddie Pepitone performing a musical, and been at the feet of Matt Besser who solicited me for a one word improv suggestion. All I could muster up in the moment was “butt.”

And if you’ve ever wanted to get into comedy, whether it be in sketch or improv, the UCB Training Center is just the place to do it. A CSULB graduate and former Unionite, Conor Izzett, has gone through the UCB system, taking classes at both UCB Los Angeles and New York. “There are tons of people who are thinking about writing comedy, and there really isn’t anywhere better to learn than the UCB theatre,” Izzett said. “You’ll learn from the best, and be around people who are genuinely funny and generally supportive.”

Izzett said that comedy is so hard to evaluate, and that it requires working with a group of people to really determine if something is funny or not. “Even in standup comedy, probably the most solitary form of comedy, the comedian doesn’t know if the jokes are funny until they work in front of an audience,” Izzett said. Working as a writer and editor at the Union Weekly got Izzett interested in writing comedy at a serious level, as he enjoyed working with a group of like-minded and funny people. Along with former Unionite Elijah Bates, Izzett decided to take classes at the UCB, and once again was happy to find himself surrounded by funny people.

When deciding to move to New York his love of the UCB was a major factor.

Now Izzett is a co-writer for the UCB sketch show “The Sit Down and Shut Up NYPD Variety Hour.” In the show, three cops who think they’re funny put on a va-

riety show. “What the show is really about is that everybody thinks that they’re funny, but not many people actually are,” Izzett says. “[The cops] put on the show and it’s a total failure, and we’re laughing at their failure. The show is about how comedy is difficult. The show is about how these guys are idiots and they shouldn’t be on stage.

Them being cops is secondary.”

After spending some time in New York, Izzett is making his triumphant return to Los Angeles, bringing with him his NYPD Variety Hour. Be sure to check out his show and many others.

The Sit Down and Shut Up NYPD Variety Hour is coming to UCB Los Angeles February 10 at 8pm and February 11 at 7pm for $5.

5919 Franklin Ave Hollywood, CA 90028

The crapstack

shitty movies that i’ll pay to watch in 2011 MARCO BELTRAN ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR

UNION WEEKLY

7 FEBRUARY 2011

NOAH KELLY

Cadaver Illustrations

CAMPUS EDITOR

I

n a small, well-lit laboratory room, Alex Vance has a scalpel in one hand and a flap of skin in her other. She begins to flay Wayne, who is face down on a gurney, brown gauze wrapped around his head. Not but 10 feet away from her is Dr. Pal, the “Cadaver Queen,” who is forearmdeep inside the body cavity of Matilda, feeling around for something very specific.

“Aha!” Dr. Pal exclaims, and she indicates for Ms. Vance to come over and examine Matilda further. Ms. Vance coos, as though deep within Matilda a kitten was found, but that is not the case. What has been located is a rare find, “A uterus,” Dr. Jacqueline Pal

says. Jeremy Wallender looks up briefly, less enthused about the discovery, before going back to his work on the opposite side of Wayne from Ms. Vance, sheering away the flesh from Wayne’s shoulder.

This is not a scene from the reboot of Silence of the Lambs. This is actually happening on campus, and in person, it was quite heartfelt.

See, Matilda and Wayne have both been dead for some time now, years even, and have been preserved with chemicals (not formaldehyde though, as that is a toxic substance no longer able to be used in California) and have had their bodies donated to science. Matilda and Wayne are now essentially textbooks for students

JEFF CHANG HEAD ILLUSTRATOR

in the Prosection class, and also various other majors including anatomy, illustration, and kinesiology.

Past a nondescript door in one of the science buildings is the cadaver lab. In one of the two rooms is Wayne and Matilda, who are actively being operated on. In the other room stay the other cadavers: Sofia, Errol, Louise, Zoe, Leroy, and Francois. The other six are in various states of preservation, Francois being among the most deteriorated. His body was actually from the ’70s, back when formaldehyde was used, and because of this he is actually in better shape for his age. Sofia, who is from only 2001, doesn’t look all that dissimilar from François save for the color (François is red-

Title Illustration

CHRIS FABELA COMICS EDITOR

dish brown, reminiscent of deep rust, or a pulled-pork sandwich, while Sofia is much paler, close to buttermilk).

These cadavers are absolutely nothing like what appears on television. They are not distinctively defined in their faces, they are not plump and fresh like an actor with pale blue paint on them. These cadavers are desiccated and stiff, their skin a combination of yellow and white, and yet they still hold a wealth of information.

These cadavers are not actually named Wayne, or Matilda, or Sofia, but these are the nicknames given to them by students like Ms. Vance and Dr. Pal. The cadavers are still people, regardless of the fact that they are dead and are being used for science, and

François UNION WEEKLY

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Matilda as such, still hold the right to be treated with respect. Photography is not allowed, and an early indicator of class performance is student reaction upon their first visit to the cadaver lab. Anyone making disrespectful comments or not treating the deceased with utmost care are easily culled from the roster

by Dr. Pal. Despite being dead and completely unable to communicate (unless renowned psychic and politician John Edwards pays us a visit), the cadavers begin to develop their own personalities and quirks. Matilda was named after “Waltzing Matilda,” an Australian country folk song, due to Matilda constantly “waltzing” from one lab room to the other. Wayne was named (and the group is still on the fence about Wayne as a nickname) due to his large barrel chested-ness, reminding them of John Wayne.

Watching Dr. Pal, or lecturer Tiffany Price, or even Alex Vance perform their delicate procedures, it is clear they hold a great deal of respect and earnestness for their work and their charges. There is a certain intimacy that is achieved from prodding, cutting, and examining these bodies.

Price, Vance, and Dr. Pal all agree that the deeper one gets, peeling layer and layer off like an onion, the more the body speaks.

Not all too dissimilar from gardeners who

commune with their plants, there is a palpable level of affection this group has for all of their cadavers.

Not everything is flowers and puppies here in the lab though. There is a distinct smell that permeates the two lab rooms (something akin to plastic and alcohol) that reminds one of the dissection classes from middle school. The smell, even after only being in there for an hour and a half, still burns slightly in the nostrils several hours afterwards, and can infuse the clothes and hair of those who make prolonged visits to the lab.

As Ms. Vance takes her time scraping the top layer of skin from Wayne’s back, freeing it from the fatty layer resting below, she recounts that after her first day (two weeks ago) on which she peeled about a one 1’x 6” strip from Wayne. She went to eat an orange a little later that day, and upon the initial peeling said, “Nah, I don’t really want this anymore.” This is not the only time when one of the workers has been left hungry and unenthused about eating after their extended time working with the cadavers, and it’s not surprising; despite handling the cadavers with loving care, they are still working with the flesh and bone of a human being.

It is hard not to make correlations from

the human body to that of the animals we eat, and sometimes Dr. Pal and the others will make references to filet mignon, or ribs, or carne asada as running jokes as they examine different parts of the body.

It is not so much a strong stomach that is needed to partake in this, but really a strong desire to learn and be fascinated by the human body itself.

CSULB acquires these cadavers from UCI, at a ranging price of $3,500-$4,500.

They are delivered here by specifically licensed transporters, and usually when classes are not being held, so as to not alarm students by wheeling bright neon orange body bags INTO the building. The question remains though: which would be more perplexing, the wheeling of bodies into the science building, or the wheeling of bodies out of the science building?

Of the eight bodies that are currently in the lab, the cadaver lab has just very recently acquired two “fresh” bodies who haven’t even been seen by all of the students, let alone been named by anyone yet.

As semesters go on though, these two will undoubtedly join the ranks of the named and personified.

The bodies are unlike organ donors, in which they might come from healthy and young individuals. Instead, these cadavers

are almost exclusively over the age of 80, often times with organs that have been polluted by years of substance abuse, surgeries, or cancer. This state of being is what makes some of the organ finds so rare, and interesting. For instance, in the case of the uterus being found in Matilda, it is quite common for women of her age to have undergone a hysterectomy, thus depriving the lab students of a chance to explore a specific organ. In a humorous revelation, plastic mock-ups of these inner workings of the body are about twice as expensive as the cadavers themselves, and yet the cadavers are infinitely more interesting and informative.

In this fascinating, albeit cramped laboratory, semesters will flash by, and Dr. Pal, the curator of cadavers, will still be here, but students like Alex Vance and Jeremy Wallender will graduate and move on. New, young hands will take the reigns of unraveling all the secrets these cadavers, named and unnamed, still hold within their bodies.

However, after watching these students and their supervisor work painstakingly slowly and carefully, no one who spends any more than a brief stay in this laboratory would ever consider using the phrase “beauty is only skin deep,” ever again.

UNION WEEKLY

7 FEBRUARY 2011

LITERATURE

A PAGE OF INNOCENCE I HOPE THAT ONE DAY THEY’LL INVENT TINY, EDIBLE BOOKS FOR PREGNANT LADIES SO THAT PEOPLE CAN START READING IN THE WOMB. UNTIL THEN, HERE ARE SOME OF OUR FAVORITE BOOKS FROM CHILDHOOD, BEFORE THE MERCILESS, COLD TENDRILS OF ADULTHOOD CHOKED THE JOY OUT OF OUR LIVES. STEVE BESSETTE

DEREK KOSKO

UNION STAFFER

CONTRIBUTOR

H

atchet. The precursor to all things Man. This book served as a guiding star from the time I was old enough to read it to when I discovered books with curse words and magazines with scantilyclad girls (Thanks, Maxim!). Hatchet, penned

by Gary Paulsen, follows the trials of Brian, a 13-year-old boy who has been cut off from the rest of the world, following a plane crash in the Canadian wilderness. All he has with him is a hatchet.

He and his hatchet find shelter, make fire, and discover why one does not eat unknown plants. Growing into adolescence, I found that this story helped plant the seeds of independence and self-sufficiency. If Brian can survive in the woods with a hatchet, the realization rises over the horizon that I cannot rely on TV and a mom willing to drive me places. This book helped start the great divide between me and my parents known as

responsibility (they would say I was becoming a pain in the ass, but we know what it really was).

There was something else to this book, too. That pastoral call to the power of nature and a love of the outdoors was illustrated.

Between my first reading to the time I typed this vignette of a review, I have climbed the green peaks of the Sierra Nevadas, slept in the cold rains of the New Mexico Rockies, and endured the heat of the High Desert.

Hell, I even teach the Wilderness Survival merit badge to the scouts dumb enough to put their care in my hands (seriously, what’s wrong with these kids?).

All of that became a goal because of the reflections of nature in Hatchet. The only criticism to this book is the fact that Brian did not have a Brett Keisel (look him up) style beard by the time I turned to the last page, but he was only 13, so I guess that’s acceptable.

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7 FEBRUARY 2011

awesome secret society.

The V.F.D. society that Snicket (or really Daniel Handler) fictionalized was entwined throughout the entire series, and with each book there would be new pieces of the puzzle that would delve deeper into different mysteries that I desperately wanted to be real.

Ultimately, the series started my hate for constant optimism, for myself, for unbelievable happy endings in any medium, and my love for writers and characters who walk through the novels at their basest, shittiest level of humanity, progressing on amongst all the terror that’s being flung against them. Bukowski drank. The Baudelaire children invented things, read a lot of books, and bit stuff, but I’m sure once they would have grown up, they would have drank themselves to death.

MONICA HOLMES

COLLEEN BROWN After I read Norton Juster’s The Phantom Tollbooth in sixth grade, it immediately became my favorite book. And as a fairly wellread literature major, I can still say it is by far one of the best novels I have ever read.

It centers on Milo, a young boy who is bored with the world; he sees everything as a waste of time. But one day he finds a mysterious tollbooth in his room that transports him to The Kingdom of Wisdom, where he has the adventures of a lifetime. The story is just resplendent with cleverness. It’s thick with puns (like the Whether Man, who deals with whether things are or aren’t, rather than the weath-

I wasn’t allowed to read Harry Potter because obviously, after reading those books, I’d be a witch or whatever, and I never read any sort of underground pre-teen things that make you sound sort of cooler (or not) in college now, so I just read A Series Of Unfortunate Events.

If you’ve only seen the movie, you can’t base the series off that; it’s awful. My mom hated me reading the series because she saw how fucking depressing the front covers looked. Which they were—very damp and dower—and those words probably didn’t enter my vocabulary until I started reading those books. The Lemony Snicket books opened up a new door for what I wanted to read. It was apathetic towards positivity, brutally straightforward about how shitty life can be, and it had a fucking

er) and literal representations of idioms (such as the Island of Conclusions, which you have to jump to).

In the end, when Milo returns home, he suddenly sees that the world is a very beautiful place, and he can’t wait to explore all of the opportunities that await him. Reading that message at 12 years old had a profound effect on me, and it still does every time I read it now. The book actually delves into some heavy issues if you read it closely. But looking at it through the lens of a child, you can’t help but feel reassured that things will always get better. Sometimes you just need to look at life in a different way.

I truly love Nancy Drew. I consider Carolyn Keene to be one of the only authors capable of writing a series of over ten books without resorting to a formula. Every book is different and exciting, and sometimes I got so nervous for Nancy I had to remind myself that she had to live through this one, because otherwise there couldn’t be more Nancy Drew books!

The best in the series is Password to Larkspur Lane. Nancy Drew discovers, through a complicated plot involving carrier pigeons, that the man running the convalescent home is trying to steal money from and kill the patients. Nancy dresses up like an old woman in order to apprehend the offending businessman! She succeeds, of course, as Nancy

always does, but not without being thrown into a slimy pit full of rats first. How does she get out? By scraping footholds into the damp cement with a rusty nail, of course.

Nancy is resourceful to the point of superheroism and is always perfectly prepared.

What more could a girl want than permission to dress cute for her “special date,” Ned, and also to trespass on private property, get dirty, and stay up late sleuthing? Nancy could wear fancy dresses and also fix her own radiator. So can I. She carries lipstick and a flashlight. So do I. However, like Nancy, when I am either fleeing for my life or rushing to save someone else’s, I never, ever drive faster than the speed limit will allow.

LITERATURE Illustration

CHRISTINA MOTT

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DEBORAH ROWE UNION STAFFER

I remember starting chapter books in second grade. No longer was I coddled with the likes of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, for now I was expected to read lengthy, detailed books divided into multiple chapters. This concept was foreign and unacceptable to me because, up until this point, I was quite fond of picture dictionaries, which didn’t call for too much attention to plot development. However, I finally found my solace in the form of the Goosebumps books.

Being a strange child growing up, I enjoyed the supernatural and the morbid. I craved blood and longed for encounters from the other side, but since my life was absent of an abundance of either, the next best thing was Goosebumps. R.L. Stine fucked with my

JESSICA MEISELS

MARLON DELEON

UNION STAFFER

CONTRIBUTOR

Fish have blessed and plagued my life since I was a child. The most recent (and most popular) connection is to a clown fish with a lucky fin—Nemo. His father’s name is Marlin, and although it’s spelled differently from my own, the pronunciation is the same. Others have mentioned my “appearance” in Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea, where I battle a leathery fisherman.

In my younger years, another fish taught me an important lesson around the time my family moved and I transitioned from a parochial school to a public school. I was thrown into a bigger pond in my new school; there were more classes per grade, and there were much bigger fish, as opposed to the one class-

room per grade I was used to at that point.

Marcus Pfistner brilliantly paints an ocean in Rainbow Fish, the children’s story of a shimmering fish with multi-colored scales. Once admired for its underwater effervescence, it realizes that sharing its shiny glory is more admirable than being admired.

I was fortunate enough to have started my education early, and so became tagged as “the smart kid” in my class. It was fun for a short while, but as I noticed that I could help my classmates by sharing my shiny smart scales, I learned that sharing truly is caring. Being admired from afar is superficially satisfying, but sharing your skills among your peers as fulfilling as the ocean is deep.

FOLASHADE ALFORD

So, I looked up this book Letters From Felix on Amazon and just found out that it is one of many books about Felix’s travels around the world. I feel as though my childhood has been cheated, as I grew up with just the original. There are many books that we have connected to our childhood, but instead of listing here why The Baby-Sitter’s Club was the greatest series of all time (fact), I will talk about the children’s interactive picture book, Letters From Felix.

The story focuses on Sophie, a sixyear-old girl who loses her beloved toy rabbit, Felix, at the airport. However, Sophie and her family soon learn of Felix’s various adventures around the world

JUDY ROSEBERRY

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When I was a kid, I was a total book snob. The library at Morehead Elementary was set up to highlight those books that won the Caldecott or Newbery Medal.

Only the finest of words would touch my refined eyes. This was the only reason I picked up A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle. On a side note, don’t see the shitty film adaptation. L’Engle herself said “Yes, I expected it to be bad, and it is.”

Anyway, I read it in the second grade and didn’t understand a goddamned word.

I was pleased when adults were astounded by my feat. About two years later, I bought it at a book fair and read it for real this time. This was my foray into science fiction, and I was hooked. In the book we’re

mind and allowed it to grow in a world of ghosts, goblins, and unkempt houses. I especially grew partial to the Give Yourself Goosebumps books, which introduced me to the design of choosing your own adventure and the scheme of cheating your way through to arrive at the best ending.

Goosebumps saved me from illiteracy and created the curiosity that led me to classic horror fiction like Dracula and Frankenstein. I suppose I’m glad I grew up in the 90s, where children’s horror was restricted to short stories about kids triumphing over evil through clever means, while today’s generation reads about vampire lust and learns how important it is to have a boyfriend.

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introduced to Meg, whose teachers think she’s an idiot, and her brother, Charles Wallace, a child prodigy. The responsibility of saving their father and the world is placed on them.

My favorite concept in the book is the tesseract. This allows the kids to travel outside the realms of reality. You are introduced to fun characters such as Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which. The plethora of imagery made my kid-mind marvel. When I was introduced to the evil of this world, I hid under my blanket. A Wrinkle in Time is the first of four in the series, and I loved the shit out of them all. The first book remains my favorite, and I will read it to my kids. Okay, you’ve convinced me; I’ll read it to you too.

I loved The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. My fourth grade teacher read it to me and the rest of my class. It might have been my intense desire to have a family that led me to love it so. I later learned it was a series of stories about the family of Mamsie and the late Mr. Pepper. The children were born into poverty and lived in a little brown house.

The Peppers made do with whatever they had. Older children made things special for the younger ones. Tragedies often befell, but they beared it the best they could. They had gaiety and spirit even when Phronsie was kidnapped by an organ grinder. I loved Mrs. Pepper, called Mamsie by her children. Though

through the letters and souvenirs he posts from each country, enabling the reader to get involved by opening the envelopes and assorted gifts.

Letters From Felix is a great way to involve kids in learning about new countries and cultures around the globe. It was one of those books I would read over and over again, never allowing my sister to touch it because I knew she would invariably lose one of the treasured letters or stickers inside as younger siblings always do. Now a television series, I credit the book with starting my love of travel and yearning for the outside world, and would recommend it to anyone from ages six to 600 as one of the most charming children’s books of the 1990s.

SPECIAL GUEST WRITER she was a widow, she kept her five children healthy and educated. She was the backbone of the family. Ben was the eldest boy. He was a scholar. He helped manage the home and put his learning aside to help support the family.

There was Polly, the oldest girl. She was bright, busy and cheerful. She loved music and flowers and her baby sister. Joel was the middle boy and an enthusiastic sportsman. Davie was the youngest and quietest. And then there was Phronsie, the baby and pet of the family.

There are so many adventures in these stories, and every one was written with great skill.

The author was Margaret Sidney, and these stories were written between 1881 and 1916.

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7 FEBRUARY 2011

CULTURE

I WISH YOU WERE DEAD OR GETTING MARRIED

BLACK PHOENIX CHIPOTLE COFFEE STOUT IT’S A BEER WITH COFFEE IN IT

SO I COULD WEAR MY NICE SUIT JUSTIN JUNG

I

MICHAEL MERMELSTEIN

CONTRIBUTOR

MUSIC EDITOR

need to start crashing some funerals.

Why? I’ve got some sweet suits that needed wearing. Let me start by saying that I like suits. No, I love suits. Getting your first suit is a rite of passage. It’s that moment where you transcend from boy to man. For me, it was like losing my virginity; the world just opened up with possibilities and people to have sex with. Wearing a properly fitting suit is like wearing body armor, while riding a fire breathing dragon, while shooting a revolver in the air, while drinking a 40. Seriously, that’s how awesome you feel when you wear one; that and girls eye-bang the shit out of you. But I think the thing I like the most about suits is that they are so quintessentially manly. I don’t think there is any other article of clothing in the world that says, “I’m better than you,” so simply and as elegantly as a suit. The only problem is that nobody wears them anymore outside of funerals and weddings. So, if you know somebody who is tying the knot or, you know, dead, here are some quick tips for you sartorial novices.

1) Own a suit. You don’t want to be that guy, the guy whose idea of “dressing up” is wearing a shirt and a tie. That was fine in high school, but you’re a grown ass man now. You know who you are. You look like an asshole.

2) NEVER button the bottom button. The bottom button is purely cosmetic and pulls the blazer in a weird way when actually used.

3) Wear the right size. If you’re slim; wear slim suits, shirts, and ties. If you’re big; wear traditional suits, shirts, and ties. If you’re fat and wear a skinny suits and ties you are only going to look fatter. If you are skinny and wear traditional stuff, it is going to look like you’re drowning.

4) Get your suits tailored. Unless all the stars and the moon align, chances are you are going to want to have your suit tailored when you buy off the rack. Which is what most of us would have to do, as having one custom made would cost a kidney.

5) Accessorize. Cufflinks and pocket squares just make you look even more awesome by adding that little extra something.

I had initially written Bootlegger’s Black Phoenix Chipotle Coffee Stout off as an underwhelming stout that doesn’t deliver on the boldness of its title. However, after learning that my beloved Kean Coffee provides the coffee part of this beverage, I was willing to give it another go.

Bootlegger’s Brewery is a Fullertonbased craft brewery which boasts a couple different beers, from Palomino Pale Ale to a seasonal pumpkin ale. The brewery itself is a frequent host to many of Orange County’s finest food trucks, which is enough reason to pay this spot a visit.

I bought my bottle from Farmers Harvest, a local craft beer supplier, but I am sure your local BevMo offers it.

Pouring the drink into a little glass, I already began to see the same problems I had with the beer last time. It pours thinner than I like my stouts. The first sip is heavy on the coffee with a light chipotle essence underneath, but not too threatening. All of this is diluted by its thin pres-

OLVERA STREET ADVENTURE SARA HATAKEYAMA CONTRIBUTOR

Olvera Street is a little Mexican marketplace in one of the oldest parts of Los Angeles. Super adorable, if you ask me. I decided to be “green” and take the Goldline Metro there, reducing my carbon footprint by taking public transportation.

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7 FEBRUARY 2011

Illustration

KIMBERLY TORREZ CONTRIBUTOR

When I got to Union Station I was greeted by mariachi music and an array of colors. And when I got to Olvera Street, it kind of smelled like dead cow, but not because of rotting or dying cows or anything, but because of all of the super cute embossed leather handbags. Let me tell you, if I weren’t a recovering shop-aholic, I would have been all over that. At first I wanted to look at all the little merchants, but then a giant sign that said “Mr. Churro” was calling me. So I had what all superstars have for breakfast, churros and giant blue raspberry Icees. Delicious.

After all of that deliciousness, my blue tongue and I went exploring. I bought a flower hair garland with ribbons attached.You know, the kind you wear when you’re five and think you’re a princess. Yeah, I bought one. I wore it, and I rocked it. I saw a lot of lucha libre masks, like the one Jack Black wears in Nacho Libre. I saw one with a Dora the Explorer face and was pretty tempted to get it. I didn’t because I’m fully convinced that I have a funny shaped head. With lots of wrestling masks, Jesus candles, and leather handbags, I was immersed in Mexican culture.

I bounced around with a bunch of fake flowers on my head, and got distracted by loud drumming. Some people were

dancing to the loud drumming. It was so good, I stood there and watched for so long that my Icee melted. When the dancing was done, a girl walked around with a basket for people to put money into. It’s like dancing for money without having to take your clothes off. Pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. The only way I would make money while dancing with my clothes on would be people paying me to stop. So props to people who can make money dancing with their clothes on. But also, props to people who can make money dancing with their clothes off wearing seven-inch heels. Much love.

After the dancing, I decided to head back home on the train. This is where things actually turn green, and by “things” I mean me. I was fine on the train ride there, but on the way back my sensitivity to motion sickness started to kick in. Don’t worry though, I had a barf bag handy. Luckily, I didn’t have to use it, but I got so sick I literally turned green.

So I went green in a couple of different ways today. Score!

But anyway, in conclusion, go to Olvera Street because it’s super adorable and there’s kick ass Mexican food.

But most importantly, go because they have lucha libre masks with Dora the Explorer on them.

ence on your palate. It just sort of meekly passes down my throat without the decency to chill out a minute and let me chill out and enjoy it a minute.

However, the end of the glass has some promise that keeps me pouring. The chipotle flavors start to gel a little bit and a bourboney warmth begins to surface.

By the third little glass we are off to the races, the chipotle tingling on my tongue becomes more prominent than the coffee or chocolate flavors.

I would never put Black Phoenix in my pantheon of great stouts. It has none of the syrupy stone-fruit textures I like in a dark beer. For its five bucks and change price range, you can do much better for yourself.

Lost Coast has a new Imperial Stout called Epeteios that is way better for only a buck more. On the other side of the coin, Black Phoenix will get a pretty great buzz going, and is a tasty and unique divergence from traditional brewing and for that, Bootlegger’s should be commended.

STATE OF THE ART LEO PORTUGAL CULTURE EDITOR

A tribute show to Lisa Nguyen, The Fabulous Life of Lisa Nguyen, will be held in the Werby Gallery February 7 to 10. It will feature works inspired by and dedicated to Lisa Nguyen, as well as some of Lisa’s own work. Gallery hours are Monday – Thursday, 12-5pm, and Wednesday 12-7pm.

The Art Crawl Experience is coming to Anaheim February 12 and it’s totally free to enter. Featuring art galleries, unique clothing, photography, jewelry, and carnival games, the art walk sprawls from the Downtown Community Center Gallery to Rothick art haus.

Google has begun the Google Art Project, offering virtual tours of famous art galleries around the world. You can explore over 1,000 artworks without getting off your butt.

Check it out at www.googleartproject.com.

COMICS

YOU’RE STUCK HERE!

CONTRIBUTOR

TYLER STAFFORD CONTRIBUTOR

ANSWERS

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DISSECT MY BRAIN

VICTOR! PERFECTO

Disclaimer:

This page is satire. We are not ASI, nor do we represent the CSULB campus. Email any questions, concerns, ballhairs, to jeffbridges.grun@gmail.com, then go to hell.

Volume 68 Issue 3

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Solitaire Replicates Click Frequency of Hard Work

BY TEEJAY DINKLE Researchers at Harvard, Yale, Cornell, and other Very Smart Schools have all compiled their data to come to a surprising conclusion. Solitaire, while a very fun game in its own right, may be popular in the workplace due to its ability to perfectly replicate the frequency at which a person clicks when doing hard work. To a person in an adjacent cubicle, a worker playing solitaire sounds exactly like a worker, say, making a spreadsheet or researching important clients or whatever else people do to make their pathetic lives seem validated.

Solitaire, which has a player clicking cards, then dragging them onto other cards, was initially thought to only be popular in offices due to its omnipresence on all computers. Even the first computer made featured an extremely primitive version of solitaire, in which the computer instructed the user to “just buy your own pack of fucking cards and play, dipshit.” Since computers of that time used punch cards as their primary form of operation, a person playing an actual game of solitaire may

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ATTN Employees: Instead of “Crap Shoot” Please Say “Gap Shirt” MEMO FROM JAKE BOSSMAN

be believed to be working hard on some old ass computer program if someone was monitoring someone by the sound of their work alone. Researchers believe this is when solitaire first evolved from a card game for lonely people to a game that allows a person to not work, but not be paranoid about the sound and frequency of their clicks. Cool.

As computers evolved, so did the version of solitaire included, until we have our modern version which includes pictures on the back of cards and that’s all. That’s the only innovation, but it’s pretty cool. I like the ones with the cats.

Other tactics for avoiding work have seen their 15 minutes of fame. These include the Just Type Whatever tactic that had a brief stint during the mid-’90s, or cocaine, which was especially popular in the late-’80s before people knew how bad it was for you. Once workers around the world discovered each tactic’s ineffectiveness, they quickly reverted back to solitaire, the old standby, and still the best way to covertly not do work. Scares me every damn time those cards turn into a waterfall.

After the superfluous usage of the word “crapshoot” at yesterday’s meeting, we here at Office Co. have decided that the word “crapshoot” is far too offensive to be used in such a blase manner. From now on, we at Office Co. have decided that it would be in the best interest of the company to no longer say the offending word when talking about something that is left up to chance. It is a rather weak metaphor on top of its apparent offensiveness. We are creative, smart people here, and the upper management is sure you can come up with a much better phrase that is not related in any way to feces.

In case you can’t, we have created a mandatory alternative: instead of crapshoot, employees must now use the phrase “Gap Shirt.” Gap has proven to be a fine establishment for buying clothes of all kind (including shirts!) and we hope that this work alternative will prove much less offensive. We dream of a day at this company where employees will see a dirty blond male model with a sweater tossed over his shoulder wearing a respectable baby blue Gap Shirt, rather than the grisly image of

Here’s a picture of me. I’m just hanging out taking a little break from not saying the phrase “crap shoot.” Instead, I chose to wear my cool Gap Shirt and talk about that. I got it from Gap.

feces being shot out of a cannon or gun with perhaps the intent to maim or murder. This image is not conducive to a quality, stressfree work environment. Everyone deserves the right to not have someone discuss defecation that is being flung or shot in some way.

Perhaps with a trebuchet or some sort of slingshot? No one really knows how words are made.

The beauty of this new phrase is also that it almost exactly the same as the offending phrase. All of you godless heathens who have propagated this word and caused

certain workers to believe it was okay to say may have less trouble adapting to this new, and ultimately better way to do business.

Please use your personal time for swear words, and please use your company time to make the office a happier, more shirt-focused place to be.

Please do not throw away this memo, for its message is an important one. One that any worker must remember long after he is retired.

People are offended when you talk about shooting shit, so stop it and talk about shirts for God’s sake.

INSIDE

Sexual Harassment: Touching a Butt and Grabbing an Ass We here at the Grunion basement have had some recent complaints of a possible sexual harassment case. This is no laughing matter. The dispute is over the difference between “touching a butt,” and “grabbing an ass.” While one might argue that touching a butt consists of accidentally brushing up against a butt of a coworker, this act is most likely unintentional, and does not constitute sexual harassment. Grabbing an ass may be argued as intentionally squeezing the buttocks of a coworker, which is definitely sexual harassment. In reality, both are wrong.

The only true answer to any problem in this world is death.

Good day, fuckers. page SH

“You Know What They Say: Another Day, Another Ball-Hair” Hey li’l guy! Whatcha doing over there? Workin? Ha ha yeah right. No just kidding, I know you’re a very hard worker. Nice day out huh? Bet you’d like to be out at the beach with all your “bros” instead of cooped up in this office!

Most of my “bros” died last year in that sawmill explosion. We’re working here though, I doubt there’d be any explosions here! Right? Yeah I’m right. Got any big plans this weekend? I’m thinkin’ of goin’ to one of those surgery ampitheaters and askin’ the doctors how the surgery’s going. page WD

My Dick is Like Microsoft: Micro and Soft. Please Don’t Laugh.page

MS