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!""#$%70.01 Want to see your art or photography featured on the intro page? Send all submissions to Connor O’Brien at connor.union@gmail.com
Editor-in-Chief
chelsea.union@gmail.com
LEO PORTUGAL
leop.union@gmail.com
GABE FERREIRA
gabe.union@gmail.com
Managing Editor Managing Editor
MARCO BELTRAN
marco.union@gmail.com
COLLEEN BROWN
colleen.union@gmail.com
Senior Editor
Opinions Editor
ALISON ERNST News Director
STEVE BESSETTE
Entertainment Editor
JOHN VILLANUEVA Music Editor
LEO PORTUGAL Literature Editor
VINCENT CHAVEZ Culture Editor
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OCTOPUS GIRL
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Grunion Editor
GABE FERREIRA
Art Director, Cover Design
CONNOR O’BRIEN
Photo Editor, Cover Photos
CHRIS FABELA
On-Campus Distribution
STEVE BESSETTE
Advertising Executive
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Contributors: MELISSA CASAS DANIEL KRAMER NICHOLE DANIELS FOLASHADE ALFORD DANIEL SERRANO ERIC BRYAN JOSHUA STEINBERG GUADALUPE RUELAS TRAVIS BARON MARIHA LOWE
LETTERS TO AND FROM THE EDITOR CHELSEA STEVENS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
CHRIS FABELA Comics Editor
CHEL ME ABOUT IT
TANYA PAZ MONICA NGUYEN PARKER CHALMERS ALEXANDER BORG GENE KANG ERICA ABITO JANEK GWIZDALA NICHOLE GOUDARZIAN ROSE FEDUK MICHAEL MERMELSTEIN
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.
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y beloved Scion tC, which once contained more hazardous material than the Long Beach ocean, is now completely spotless from floor mat to backseat cup holder. At the end of last semester, my bedroom could have easily been featured on Hoarders, but now it looks like something sprung to life from Ikea’s winter catalogue. And the craziest part is, I cleaned it all myself. I, Chelsea Stevens, have become an altogether neat, organized, and together individual. I haven’t been late anywhere in two months. I didn’t write this letter two hours before we send the paper off to print. I have no idea what’s happened to me in the last six weeks. Actually, I managed to fit quite a lot into this winter break. I experienced a couple unfortunate deaths in the family, said goodbye to a dear friend who’s moving across the world to New Zealand, and worked far too many hours at my insufferable job with the city. On the cheerier side of things, I also turned 21, went to all four days of the NAMM show where I met seven of my bass idols in a single day, and played some awesome gigs myself. And, obviously, did more
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CONNOR O’BRIEN PHOTO EDITOR
cleaning than any sentient person should be allowed to do, ever. But really, none of these things contributed greatly to the unexpected birthing of this newly discovered me. I have proven myself, time and time again, to be an incurable representative of the utterly lazy. Not just the casual, “I’ll give myself an extra 15 minutes to sleep in tomorrow” apathy. Rather, lazy to the point of deciding not to change the channel when The Nanny comes on after Friends on Nick at Night, because if I move my arm out from under my covers, the cold air will hit it. Not even Fran Drescher’s excruciating laughter is enough to convince me to inconvenience myself in the slightest possible manner. And yet, here I am, currently color-coding the events on my new dry-erase calendar. Honestly, there’s only one thing that can drive someone so inexcusably lethargic to become an active and helpful member of society, and that thing is fear. As winter break slowly came to its inevitable end, my buried conscious suddenly presented a platter of truths to my vacationing brain. The
first truth was that last semester was easily the most intense, stressful, and adrenaline-driven four months of my entire life. The second was that spring semester is, without a shadow of a doubt, always more difficult than the fall. And with that, something happened. I knew that if I was going to come out of May alive, I had to get my shit together. More or less immediately. So here I am, a new Chelsea, ready to castrate spring of 2012 and whoever wants to go down with it. I feel a bit like Larry from The Stand, as he begins to walk through that pitch-black tunnel full of dead people, letting out a panicked scream every time he feels their bones crunch under his boots. I know there are more than enough brittle corpses waiting to hear my girly shrieks in the coming months, but with enough sanity and a little hope, I think I might make it to the blue sky on the other side. Good luck to you, all you cadaver crunchers out there, and thanks for reading. EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
MAJOR ROUND-UP
1. 2.
GUESS THE CSULB MAJORS FROM OUR CREATIVE SET OF CLUES Down 1. Because reading for fun just wasn’t good enough. 2. You’ll be lucky if your love for animals gets you through this 4. stats and physics-heavy major. 3. Your parents probably raised you to believe God is dead. 5. Talented folk whose lifetimes include either fancy gallery openings or children’s books and welfare. 8. Hot weather girls, intolerable radio show hosts, or the most popular 7. alternative to being undeclared. 9. Designers of everything from brass door knockers to street-legal airplane cars. Yeah, those exist. 12. Don’t talk about Spielberg. Ever. Across 9. 10. 4. Future career choices include Lewis or Clark. 6. This isn’t really a major, more like a free pass for people who like to work out and be attractive. 7. You project your own issues onto other people for a 11. 12. living, but your friends tell you you’re a good listener. 13. 10. Students share a love of numbers, an affinity for bank accounts, and mild cases of Asperger’s. 14. 11. Where boys are stupid and Katy Perry is worse. 13. Your degree seals your authority to write terrible poetry and constantly discuss that novel you’ve been working on. 14. This rare breed of hobbit sings and plays underground, rarely venturing above lower campus.
5.
3.
6. 8.
Answers
1. Literature 2. Zoology 3. Philosophy 4. Geography 5. Art 6. Athletics 7. Psychology 8. Communications 9. Industrial Design 10. Accounting 11. WGSS 12. Film 13. Creative Writing 14. Music
CHELSEA STEVENS
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KEEP YOUR BUDS CLOSE FEDS FEAR COLD HARD STEELE JOSHUA STEINBERG CONTRIBUTOR
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aybe some federal judges smoke pot. I mean we know that they can have a partiality to strippers and cocaine, so why not Judge Cormac J. Carney who is presiding over the Steele Smith case? I mean an officer of the federal court system would have to be fucking high to allow a medical marijuana defense in federal court. Because if he did that, as many people believe, the argument whether the state has the right to have medical marijuana laws or whether or not the government has the right to negate them, will be brought up in this case. I know I’m looking forward to the upcoming Steele Smith trial, assuming the government doesn’t do the obvious chicken-shit move of delaying the trial for the 17th time. This trial scares them and Smith’s case is the reason why. If you’re not familiar with the Steele Smith case, let me bring you up to speed. This is
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DANIEL KRAMER UNION STAFFER
California. It has medical marijuana laws and requires a very strict series of qualifications before one can open a clinic, which include having non-profit status and a caregiver’s license. Steele Smith, a guy with a rare, incurable, and excruciatingly painful disease called Zollinger-Ellison, did every single thing the state required to open a clinic. A medical marijuana patient himself, he was praised by police in Fullerton as having the perfect, lawabiding dispensary. In 2004, the DEA got involved, charged Smith, and threw him in prison for 10 months before he made bail. Now, Smith won’t take a plea deal. He wants to take it to trial. I don’t blame him. It’s easy to see why he’d be a little sore, not counting his painful disorder. So what’s the issue? Smith operated his clinic, nicknamed “C3,” lawfully and within regulation. The DEA respectfully disagreed
because marijuana is illegal to distribute under federal law. Naturally, this issue goes beyond sticky clinic bud. Our U.S. Constitution is not entirely specific about prohibiting any medicine or consumer products and the Tenth Amendment allows states to address issues that the Constitution forgot. And our state has addressed that issue by making green groceries legal for citizens to access for medical use. This trial has been rescheduled 17 times over three years. I have a feeling there is still strategic planning in the political theater of federal law enforcement as to how to handle this one issue in California that will very much be noticed by the remaining 49 states. Near the end of 2007, Judge Carney granted a motion filed by Smith’s attorney, Eric B. Shevin, to allow a “mistake of law” defense on Smith’s behalf. That means that he can prove
he had no intent to distribute marijuana illegally if he established that he acted in utter compliance with state laws. And he very much did act under state law as a medical marijuana patient and clinic operator. This means the federal courts are going to hear a contradiction of federal law and compliance with state law. And from there, well, a whole lot of constitutional jargon. Honestly, with all this delay, the federal government may have to acknowledge that they have no right keep California away from its best bud: marijuana. No matter how it is being used. When the trial starts though, I hope I can make it to the courtroom where the Smith trial begins in Santa Ana this January. If you’re there too, you can find me in row 4, seat 20.
Where the future stops, is accepting what we have as all there is. And that is exactly what we’ve done. You can put a video of your dog licking its nuts on what is essentially a global bulletin board in seconds. That’s the future. You can put a video of your dog licking your nuts on a slightly smaller (slightly) bulletin board. And that’s the future. Downloading Rilo Kiley’s discography from your boyfriend’s dorm room because you saw on your iPhone’s Facebook app that your aunt was listening to them on Spotify. That’s the future. Bullshit. That’s distraction. Without the present, there is no future. And we have no present. We have a hyperbolized version of the past that we covet so greatly as to call it some sort of gift. Steps to the side in shiny shoes. We have gadgets, and that’s amazing! It is! Make no mistake, I am
writing this from a Macbook Pro that has shown me the intimate photos of the deaths of world leaders. But these are no different than the electronic watch, the flashlight. Convenient, and forward thinking, but ultimately little more than luxuries. Pleasantries in a greater conversation. And we are stopping there. Saying hello to a greater world and walking back to the dregs of the atomic age, retaining its fear with none of its innovation. And we are better than that. You are better than that. Humanity, like any species, is in the place it is largely through caution. Through fear. And while that may keep us alive, it will also keep us still. Shaking and silent. If we are to get anywhere, we have to say what we have, with all of its bright light and brilliant chrome, is not good enough. We were promised a future we have not been given. Let’s go take it.
BACK TO THE FUTURE BECAUSE REALLY, FUCK BACK TO SCHOOL ERIC BRYAN UNION STAFFER
What happened to the future? I write this in the immediate wake of NASA’s call for new astronauts, for the first time asking for new staff to head their next program of as of yet unseen spacecrafts. According to spokespeople at NASA, not only will there be new mechanisms to take people to the moon, but for the first time, ships to take explorers beyond the pull of Earth’s gravity, and potentially into deep space. And society collectively yawned. There is some level of understanding to this. The death of the space shuttle program was essentially the final nail in the coffin to known spacecraft. The final tangible link between science fiction and reality severed. However, understanding does not mean sense. Nor rationality. Essentially what we, as a people, have done, is say, “If we don’t already know it, it’s
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not worth our time.” Essentially what we, as a people, have done, is collectively dismiss any active participation in the labor pains of the future. Which is, of course, the worst possible step to take: confidently to the side. We have decided that because we do not have jet packs and flying cars, that we have been wronged. The joke has overtaken reality. Look around you. Take the effort to sway your fucking neck around. Stop reading for a minute. What future have we been denied? There may not be a jet pack, you ridiculous person, but even air planes, archaic technology even two generations prior, can in a matter of hours, take you to wherever in the world you’d like to go. Your phones are Star Trek gadgets. The myths of 50 years ago made so real, so prevalent, that they have become almost banal in their existence. Traded readily for a new one.
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THAT ONE TIME I WAS PREGNANT THE POSSIBILITY OF BABIES CAN REALLY RUIN A GOOD TIME FOLASHADE ALFORD UNION STAFFER
“Your kids will have some bushy ass eyebrows.” Last spring this comment came from AJ as we discussed with Devon, MC, and the “gay-bors” that bomb pop guy I was sexing (see summer issue). I think I laughed and replied with a sassy “fuck no.” Aside from an STD, getting pregnant would ruin my life. It’s not that I don’t like kids, I love them. I’ve dedicated summers to making kids squeal with laughter and soothing tears from scraped knees. I even hope to have some of my own one day, but that day is not today or any day soon. Well, that was a truth I had believed. Before I started having sex I dreaded the onslaught of PMS that would be followed by cramps, bleeding, and cravings of French fries, burritos, and lo mein combined. Now I welcome my period. For me it is a reminder that I’m not pregnant and continue to beat the stereotype of becoming another young black girl with a “baby daddy,” like seriously it makes me wanna hi-five my vagina. So I’ve taken no chances and used condoms every time and would rather call it a night than give up this thin veil of protection. Things were going according to plan till I woke up in the New Year realizing it had been a while since I went on a Rom
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NICHOLE DANIELS UNION STAFFER
Com and ice cream binge. That’s when my brain started calculating, it can’t have been 2 months. Then I dredged up past events. The beginning of December in what I can only call an inevitable lapse in judgment, I slept with the aforementioned guy again and it was amazing, cuddly, and maybe even cute. Even though I couldn’t stop smiling days later I decided that had to be the last time. I was so concerned with moving on (this included lying to the guy saying a friend changed my contacts and he was now unknown to me) that I didn’t realize I was in deep shit till January. That’s when I let the thought cross my mind, I’m pregnant. I kinda laughed in my head. Then this thought became obsession, I texted a friend (THANKS FOR TEXTING ME BACK MC) and I scoured the internet for pregnancy signs and wives tales. I poured over symptoms and even took a quiz. I got a 17%, but my brain didn’t care it just whispered you still might be pregnant. Then I started to think about how I absolutely could not have a baby right now. I can hardly take care of myself. Oh and fucking child support, custody and all that bullshit. Then I thought, so be it, I’m pregnant, I’m getting an abortion. I made a list of possible abortion buddies who
would drive me to and from the clinic. Who I might let into the room with me to hold my hand or who would hug me after. Then the sane (small but present) part of me came to the forefront of all my thoughts and said, “Folashade. Calm the fuck down. You don’t even know if you’re pregnant.” Then I was like hey, I’m right, these scenarios are all ridiculous without anything to base it on. So I decided I was gonna take a pregnancy test. I ordered it from my doctor and it took me a week to actually pee in the god damn cup but I did it. The results would be posted later that day and I told myself you don’t get to react till you know. If you’re not pregnant then you’re just a crazy bitch, and if you are pregnant with his baby we can cry. So midday rolled around and I finally got the courage (and remembered my password) to log into my Kaiser account to look at my lab results. After staring at the word negative I was still confused. They tested me for HCG, what the hell is that? Why couldn’t it just say “bitch you pregnant” or “fuck yes we beat the statistics.” It turns out it’s a hormone you produce when pregnant, so that meant I was not with child. I finally sighed and thanked the gods, I even thought about showing gratitude at
the closest weirwood, but I just laughed at myself and went about my day. So what was the point of this story besides telling you I’m insane and temporarily scaring the shit out of that guy? (Sorry Chris.) Basically sometimes we just need to chill the fuck out and it’s hard. Your emotions and your imagination get in the way, but that’s wasted energy you could be using to actually figure out what’s going on. So before you start freaking out over that missed period, weird pee color, or mysterious bump you don’t remember being on your ball sack, take a breath and find your bearings. Whatever happens, the only thing you can do is move on from there, one step at a time.
CONSCIOUSNESS AND CREATIVITY IN OTHER WORDS, THIS ARTICLE WILL MAKE YOUR BRAIN HURT DANIEL SERRANO CONTRIBUTOR
I tried to think of a witty introduction to engage from the get-go, but I couldn’t, so I’ll present this idea straight forward and as matter of fact. Your consciousness doesn’t exist. Consciousness, as I use it here, refers to the waking state of perception that you are experiencing at this moment. The ability to perceive, categorize, and make sense of stimuli within the four dimensions in which existence occurs, those dimensions being height, width, length, and time. Time is a dimension, to clarify, through which three dimensional objects progress and move. Some things exist only because of time, such as a full moon. Though a full moon does not exist now, it will exist as time progresses. If there was no time, there could be no full moon, because the moon would have nothing to move through. This is the best definition I can construct, so I hope it clarifies the idea of time as a spatial dimension. We know things exist because we can measure or observe them. Dark matter, for instance, is not observable, but its gravitational pull is measurable, and therefore known to exist. Sound is measured by frequency, as are brain waves, just like electronic pulses are measured by the amount
of energy carried. Anything that is not measurable or observable is not known to exist, though can be theorized about. This leads to consciousness. Consciousness can be neither measured nor observed, yet is readily understood to exist. One may see another’s body, but that body is only the vehicle of consciousness, and not consciousness itself. One cannot open a person and find their consciousness, because it does not found in four dimensional space—it is unobservable and immeasurable. Consciousness, then, is a stand-alone occurrence in its presence in spite of physical absence. Now one can say brain wave’s can be measured, as can the blood flowing through veins. But neither of these, or any other life-sustaining process, is consciousness, they are instead, I believe, reactions to consciousness. As thoughts change different parts of the brain are used; when a weight is lifted, because of decision made by consciousness, increased blood flow follows. Biological processes, then, react to the consciousness that inhabits them. Biology is a process, for further clarification. There is no moment in which any body is self-sufficient and does not need nourishment for continued sustenance.
Metabolism and catabolism never stop building and destroying the components of our constructs. Because the body is never in a state of rest, because there is always a cell processing oxygen or energy from food, and muscle fibers are constantly consumed and built back up, a body is not a stable, complete structure. It is a state of flux which consciousness inhabits. Where does consciousness exist, then? Surely it does exist, as it allows me to type these words and you to give them meaning. If consciousness did not exist, society would not exist, and people would not interact. There is no way to pin point or locate it, but it is here, and this is the paradox, the point of enigma that does not hold a definite answer. There are only the facts leading to it. There is a fundamental unknowing in that moment that is amazing in its potential for limitless hypothesizing. There is a point to this, though, and it lies in creativity. Creativity is a product of consciousness in that consciousness is needed in order for a creative process to occur. If the location of consciousness is unknown, then the location of the ideas it creates, and the process of their creation, is even a further mystery. How does something that does not exist create an idea that
can be implemented and completely change the three dimensional world in which the vehicle of consciousness resides? Again, the point of befuddlement and the seeming end to reasonable logic has been reached. I believe, though, that attempting to understand the nature of consciousness allows the creative mind to grow. Because wherever consciousness might be, it brings with it the creative power, the ability to bear ideas and birth them into the world as art, literature, business ventures, or personal growth. Creativity can benefit everyone in either profession or leisure, and the utilization of the creative process, I’m almost entirely sure, improves mood and general well being. For that reason, these things should be thought over and pondered, especially for one who relies heavily on creativity or who enjoys the process of creation. As you walk around campus or sit in class, intermittently consider that your conscious state does not exist within the four dimensions it perceives. Your ideas and thoughts arise from nothing, and the entirety of your experience is understood by a means that is absent from the world it inhabits. This process fuels your creative nature, and the more you attempt understand it, the more creative you can become. UNION WEEKLY
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THE RACE TO THE RNC A LOOK AT THE GOP CANDIDATES GUADALUPE RUELAS CONTRIBUTOR
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DANIEL KRAMER UNION STAFFER
STATE OF THE BEACH
YOUR WEEKLY CAMPUS NEWS IN BRIEF TRAVIS BARON UNION STAFFER
The former Massachusetts governor won the New Hampshire primary by a 16% margin and almost tied with fellow candidate Rick Santorum at the Iowa caucus, establishing himself as the Republican frontrunner. Criticized by Democrats and Republicans alike for his “consistent inconsistencies” on issues such as abortion and gay rights, Romney’s biggest challenge is proving himself a steadfast conservative.
One of the co-authors of “Contract with America”, Gringrich is negatively characterized by the government shutdown of 1995 and 1996. The 84 ethics charges brought against him as Speaker of the House, among them the misuse of tax exempt donations, could harm his bid.
Background Worked for management consulting firm Bain and later headed his own private equity company, Bain Capital. Criticized for “destroying jobs” in the buyout business, although not all companies Bain took charge of, such as Dominoes and Staples, went bankrupt.
Political Experience Represented Georgia’s 6th congressional district from 1979 to 1999. Was House Minority Whip from 1989 to 1995 and Speaker of the House from 1995 until his resignation in 1999.
Political Experience Served as Massachusetts Governor from 2003 to 2007. On Issues Has voiced strong opposition to gay marriage and abortion during debates. In an interview with the Boston Herald in December, Romney proposed a three-tier approach to gay marriage: to support “traditional” marriage and allow past same-sex marriages to remain valid, but to bar new same-sex marriages. Although Romney opposes abortion, he is not on Susan B. Anthony’s list, a group of pro-life candidates who pledge to nominate only pro-life judges and cabinet members. Economics Plans to reduce corporate tax from 35% to 25%. Supports repealing ObamaCare and Dodd-Frank. Proposes issuing visas to foreigners who studied in the United States to promote human capital.
Background History professor at West Georgia College in the 1970s.
On Issues Supports strong border policy with a guest worker program. Pro-life and against gay marriage. Opposes limits on campaign contributions. Against the Kyoto Protocol on the basis that Europe and Asia benefit more than the United States. Does not endorse cap and trade systems for climate control, instead supporting flex fuel automobiles. Has attacked President Obama for being too lenient on North Korea and Iran. Economics Proposes a flat rate tax of 15% on all Americans, regardless of income. Supports a balanced budget, and claims that the 1997 Balanced Budget Act kept the budget neutral four times, although a variety of economic factors, such as Clinton tax increases, boosted government revenue.
“Dr. Ron Paul”, who ran under the Libertarian party in the 1988 election, is known for defying both party norms and mainstream political attitudes. In order to secure delegates, he must win over conservatives wary of his proposals to legalize prostitution and illegal drugs, which conversely make him popular with young voters. Background Physician. Was a flight surgeon in the U.S. Air Force and and established an obstetrics and gynecology private practice in Texas. Refused to take Medicare and Medicaid as a physician. Political Experience Represented Texas’s 14th congressional district intermittently since 1976, and uninterruptedly since 1997. Part of the House Committee of Foreign Affairs and House Committee of Financial Services and on the Joint Economic Committee. On Issues Nonintervention in foreign policy; for example, Paul voted against the Iraq War Resolution in 2002 and advocates U.S. withdrawal from the United Nations and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Considers global warming a hoax. Believes states have the right to decide matters not specified in the constitution. Opposes welfare and amnesty for illegal immigrants, and birthright citizenship. Economics Regularly votes against government spending, taxes, and initiatives. Calls for a return to the gold standard. Although he doesn’t necessarily advocate eradicating the dollar, he supports a parallel currency economy with goldbacked money competing against Federal Reserve notes.
Unexpectedly tying with Romney at the Iowa Caucus—although officially winning by a couple votes—Santorum is now vying with Gringrich to establish himself as Mitt Romney’s conservative alternative. Background Lawyer at Pittsburgh firm K&L Gates. Political Experience Represented Pennsylvania’s 18th congressional district from 1991 to 1997 and served as Senator of Pennsylvania from 1991 to 1997. As a congressmen, he was known for his frequent use of earmarks; Taxpayers for Common Sense estimated that as senator alone, Santorum secured $1 billion in earmarks. When confronted about earmarks, Santorum said he would oppose them as president. On Issues Sponsored the Iran Freedom and Support Act, and supports continued occupation of Iraq. Believes issues such as gay marriage should be decided by elected officials and the American public, not the Supreme Court. Known for supporting family values, although often at the expense of privacy; believes adultery, polygamy, and sodomy should be outlawed. Against Plan B, citing it as an abortifacient during a 2006 Senate debate. Economics Like Mitt Romney, Santorum proposes repealing Dodd-Frank and ObamaCare. Wants to abolish green regulations in favor of utilizing domestic resources.
Hello fellow CSULB academia, welcome [back] to a new semester filled with “fun” events and chances to show our sports teams all of your pride and school spirit. Okay, but really, welcome back to hell, where 16 units means 4 labs and 3 lecture sessions a week, plus an online. We all really know your time is valuable, so school events aren’t exactly the number one thing on your list to do. Even the school knows that because on Monday, January 23rd, there are no noteworthy events to attend. Yes, the school says enjoy your first day back, we won’t beg you to join us. But on Tuesday, January 24th... there still isn’t shit on their event calendar. Well, enjoy your first couple days back (not too much, this is still a dry campus). Wednesday, January 25th is chock full of events, though! We have Men’s Volleyball vs. Cal Baptist (we should beat the hell out of them) at 7pm at our own blue triangle. And also…wait, that’s it for Wednesday. What the hell, just one thing? What will I do with all my time?! I could go and watch Track & Field do Air Force Multi-events at the USAF Academy, Colorado on Thursday, January 26th. What the hell? Colorado? Fine, we also have Men’s basketball at UC Riverside, 7pm. Yeah, go all crazy in Riverside, you maniacs. Unless someone opts to drive me, I’ll “watch” from home. Okay here we go. Friday, January 27th is hosting a fistful of events, starting with the continuation of Colorado’s track and field Air Force events. But, we should all be excited to see “legendary musician Lou Reed and producer Bob Ezrin…” at the Carpenter Performing Arts Center (CPAC). Call [Cpac] for tickets! Our very own art museum (UAM) is presenting Lou Reed, Metal Machine Trio: The Creation of the Universe, so check that out. Also, they are presenting Static Noise: The Photographs of Rhona Bitner. Let’s all get our top hats and our classiness and go to the UAM. But most importantly, visit your loyal student writers at the Union Weekly office in the USU between the University Police office and Wells Fargo at 2pm on Friday! We want you there. We want you so badly. *cough* Sorry, it won’t be creepy, I promise. Be heard, voice your opinions, and get some ideas out there. We will enjoy your company, and you just might possibly probably not but maybe like us too. I sure might possibly probably maybe like you too. Enjoy your first week back! UNION WEEKLY
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MARCO BELTRAN
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SENIOR EDITOR
t’s the first week of school. If you’re a returning student, you’re back to eating from the same four restaurants for six months and discovering an appreciation for the King of Queens. If it’s your first day here, welcome! The next five/six years will either be uneventful or sort of fun. It all really depends on how willing you are to leave that persona you built in high school, stray slightly from your comfort zone, and become some other asshole. It works! If you were semi-smart, you packed in as many things the last week of vacation to make up for the nothing you did while staying at home,
collecting toe nails in a jar or openmouth kissing your significant other for hours on end. No one wants to start school. I guess it’s good to hone our skills and prepare ourselves, slightly, for adulthood, but it’s so hard to get out of bed and mentally prepare to be talked at for several hours. Just to have the building stress as you gear yourself towards finals and the ever lingering terror of graduation with no release is enough to drive anyone to consider becoming a hermit. It would be nice to have something to give you that release, something recreational that would require you to give up most of
your day, but you can’t become that guy or girl that sleeps the whole class. Not this semester. Or you started a new job, or have a job, that requires you to keep your body clean. Or it’s just not your thing. That’s where we come in. We’ve collected and attempted as many random things that can alter your mental state slightly, and we even busted some myths! Aside from inhaling a bag of shit, this should be something fun to help you relax that’s on the legal side. I can’t guarantee the amount of fun or how “high” you’ll get, but it’s something to do. That’s why you’re reading this.
COLLEEN BROWN OPINIONS EDITOR
A few years ago, I read a Cracked article that mentioned there was a way to hallucinate without using drugs. This idea definitely appealed to me, because I find brain functions and altered states incredibly interesting, but I’m far too much of a pussy to actually take LSD (also, too responsible? Nah, probably not). It turns out I only needed a few simple items: a Ping-Pong ball cut in half, tape, a red light bulb, headphones, and a radio turned to a static-y station for white noise. I was slightly skeptical about the whole thing, but I figured I would give it a shot. To set myself up to trip out, I taped one half of the Ping-Pong ball over each of my eyes. A lamp was set up with a red light bulb so I would be looking into the red light. I put on my headphones, turned the radio to static, and chilled out for half an hour, like the directions I used recommended. If all goes well, you’re eventually supposed to start hallucinating due to sensory deprivation. When the brain doesn’t receive any
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signals, it apparently creates its own. In my experience with it, here’s what I felt: at first, it was very apparent to me that I was staring through Ping-Pong balls at a red light bulb. There was a dark seam running through the plastic of the balls that I thought was going to be really distracting, but eventually everything sort of… flattened out. The seams disappeared completely, and it felt like my eyes were closed even though they weren’t. It became less like “whoa my vision is funky” and more like “this makes sense, the world is a fuzzy reddish-white without dimensional planes, of course.” After maybe 20 minutes or so, I started feeling like the floor all around me had dropped out, except for the exact parts I was laying on. The carpet even sort of felt like it was pushing up on me with the equal but opposite force I was laying on it with, but I’m not sure if I was thinking about Newton’s Laws and then imagined that, or if I felt that and then started thinking about Newton’s Laws. But unfortunately, I had no hallucinations,
which I had really been looking forward to. The closest I got to that was feeling like I do right before I fall asleep, where you start semi-dreaming and thinking about weird shit. But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen for you, and here’s why: I was pretty tired, and was finding it difficult to not fall asleep. I imagine if your brain is more alert, it will be more likely to self-create cool stuff. Also, the insides of the Ping-Pong ball I was using seemed to be rubbed with Vick’s, which, as you can probably figure out, was making my eyes burn with the fires of hell and made it that much harder to keep them open. But worst of all, halfway through the experiment my static radio station suddenly picked up a strong signal for a Mexican channel, and so I was unpleasantly interrupted by what sounded like Spanish-speaking vampires (or maybe THAT was my hallucination, oohh!). If anything, I felt super relaxed, and the whole feeling asleep/awake at the same time was pretty cool. I’d say the experiment is worth a try if you have an hour free and are good at emptying your mind, just don’t expect it to kick any drug habits.
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GABE FERREIRA ART DIRECTOR
Thought you’ve heard it all about painkillers? A group of biologists at Oxford University claim that it is possible to manipulate the amount of pain you feel at a wounded or injured part of your body by looking at it through the wrong end of binoculars. Backed by their study published in the November 25th, 2008 issue of Current Biology, the researchers found that the ten participants who used inverted binoculars to make their hurting hands appear smaller felt significantly less pain than those who looked at their
hands without any apparatus. Intrigued by the compelling conclusion of this thorough research, I decided to try the technique myself and enjoy a pain-free body. I bought a pair of decent-quality binoculars, ran a few miles to make my bad knee hurt more than it often does, and began the trial. After 20 minutes staring at the injured region, I was frustrated to notice nothing more than the usual decline in pain one feels when resting. I didn’t know if I should have felt good
about mythbusting Oxford scientists, bad because I found no substitute to Vicodin, or dumb due to my inability to experience what the British geniuses said I should have. Either way, it was time to take the trial up a notch. Using the same binoculars, I stood in front of a large mirror and looked through the inverted lenses for a rather long period of time. If looking at small hands can kill the pain there, why wouldn’t it work for my entire body? I know, I had just tried it on my knee and it didn’t work, but it never
“hurts” to be hopeful. Unfortunately, nothing changed, and I gave up. Though I experienced no success with my inverted binoculars and the scientific reasoning behind this is dubious at best, you should still try it, especially if unprescribed dosages of OxyContin are part of your weekend fun. You might get some laughs from those who see your experiment, but that is about as bad as binoculars will ever get.
CHRIS FABELA COMICS EDITOR
I’ll cut right to the chase for all you would-be drug users: this shit didn’t work for me. Maybe I did it wrong, maybe I didn’t listen hard enough, but I experienced nothing. Getting high off of sound looked easy enough. All the instructions said were to relax, plug in your headphones and listen. As exciting as getting high off of an mp3 sounds, cool your jets, it’s not like getting high for real. Binaural beats, as they are called, as a collection of electronic tones used to confuse your brain and create an auditory hallucination, causing the listener to hear a three-dimensional imagined tone. The listener hears a sound that is not actually being played
and will often experience the source of the sound to move in front of them or at least away from your headphones. The tones can also alter your mood, and there is even a tone that supposedly helps ease one’s hangover. Your brain isn’t used to hearing these frequencies in such close proximity and with such intensity, and our little monkey brains have not evolved to understand them. The brain’s superior olivary nucleus (the part of the brain which regulates sound perception) attempts to make sense of the tones, causing the auditory hallucinations. I approached this extremely excited to trick my brain. In essence I thought these would be Magic Eyes images for my ears.
Sadly, this was not what I experienced. I sat down and listened for over a quarter hour on two separate occasions, listening to the most grating noises it has ever been my displeasure to hear. Think someone with tinnitus listening to their AOL dialup modem connect to decade-old prelolcatz internet. If anything, these tones were a major buzz kill. Being high off of sound is about as realistic as being high off of God (RIP James Brown). Next time I want a noise high, I’ll listen to some Rush and then remember that I am a college student in California so I can go buy real drugs almost anywhere.
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FINCHER VS. OPLEV
TWO COUNTRIES AND A GIRL WITH A DRAGON TATTOO ALEXANDER BORG UNION STAFFER
I
am a strong believer in the notion that how artists express themselves is of equal importance to what they are expressing. Justin Bieber’s “Baby” uses the same chord progression as the similarly titled “The KKK Took My Baby Away” by seminal New York City punk rock band, the Ramones. My favorite artists, writers, and filmmakers are those who recognize the accomplishments of their predecessors and infuse their own unique styles to compel and innovate. It is for this reason that David Fincher is my favorite director and why I prefer his film adaptation of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo to the Swedish version. The key difference between Fincher’s film and the Swedish film (directed by Niels Arden Oplev) is that of atmosphere. Oplev chose to direct his film very bluntly in order to give it a very raw emotional impact. Contrastingly, Fincher chose to embellish his film with almost unrelenting atmosphere.
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Illustrations
MARIHA LOWE CONTRIBUTOR
In his first film, Se7en, Detective Mills (Brad Pitt) and Somerset (Morgan Freeman) futilely fought crime in a decaying city of constant downpour that reflected its moral desolation. Fincher juxtaposed the darkness of the city during the climatic showdown with John Doe, which takes place in a desert during the day. When (Spoiler Alert) evil has prevailed, the last shot the audience is shown takes place at night, which perfectly compliments the devastating Ernest Hemingway quote Somerset twists (“The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.”), reiterating the futility of his fight. Fincher would continue to hone his talent of crafting dark moods in The Game, Fight Club, Panic Room, and Zodiac. The atmosphere that Fincher creates in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is his best most-engaging yet. Shots of icy expanses reiterate the film’s themes of isolation and buried secrets. The way the camera moves
around staircases and through narrow doorways furthers the film’s already high sense of tension. Not all of the film’s atmosphere is created visually though. Trent Reznor (of Nine Inch Nails fame) and Atticus Ross reunite once again to soundtrack the film. While their minimalist piano and electronic compositions don’t stray very far stylistically from their work on Fincher’s previous film The Social Network, the industrial version of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” featuring Karen O (of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs) that opens the film retains the fervent energy of the original song while re-contextualizing it for the film. Devotees to the Swedish film will undoubtedly point to Noomi Rapace’s portrayal of the titular protagonist as a reason for its superiority. Hell, Roger Ebert even campaigned to have her reprise her role in American films. While I did appreciate
Rapace’s understated portrayal of cyberpunk hacker Lisbeth Salander, I enjoyed newcomer Rooney Mara’s performance more. Lisbeth is an incredibly complicated character that required an actor that could masterfully portray sadistic pleasure, cold intelligence, tremendous pain, and even blunt humor. Mara truly devoted herself to the role (she has the all the piercings to prove it) and her devotion came through in her performance. If she isn’t holding a golden statue come February 26th, the Academy will have hell to pay. In summation, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo currently playing at your local multiplex is an amazing film thanks to masterful direction the Swedish version lacked. Both films are strong, but Fincher’s golden touch, Rooney Mara’s powerful performance, and Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ badass score are unique to my favorite film of last year.
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LARSSON VS. FINCHER EVERYBODY IS A WINNER
MELISSA CASAS UNION STAFFER
I
t’s against my religion to see a film without reading its corresponding novel beforehand. Last summer, when I heard that David Fincher was making an adaptation of Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, I raced to get my hands on a copy of the book to see what I was in for when the film hit theaters. Fast-forward to December. After hours of cringing, nail-biting, and whispering plot points to confused friends that hadn’t read the novel, I was in awe. From experience, we know that great films aren’t always great book adaptations (i.e. the last Harry Potter film). However, Dragon Tattoo succeeds at being an impressive movie and a cohesive adaptation of Larsson’s complicated behemoth of a novel. The filmmakers weren’t afraid to push the boundaries of acceptable cinema and truthfully, I would have been upset if they had censored the graphic aspects of the plot for the sake of delicate viewers. Rooney Mara was just as much of a badass as I could have hoped for portraying Lisbeth Salander, the titular tattooed girl. Although I haven’t seen the first film adaptation starring Noomi Rapace, I can comfortably say that Rooney is perfect. I can already hear people sneering in disgust at this comment; after all, Rapace was applauded so widely for her work that she was asked to reprise the character for Fincher. Nonetheless, she declined and we were graced with Rooney’s transformation from the girl next door to a motorcycle-riding, leather-clad, sailor-mouthed bisexual. Although I can’t pass judgment on Rapace’s performance, I can conclude that Rooney may have been even more of a badass than the novel’s original character. This may be because the novel focuses more heavily on the story of journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig in Fincher’s film)
Illustration
than Lisbeth and that the film does the opposite, but the noncanononical scenes in the film, one of which includes Lisbeth threatening her guardian in an elevator, bolster her unrepentant attitude and troubled reputation. Although the filmmakers focused more on Lisbeth than Blomkvist, I enjoyed this amendment to the plot. Larsson’s novel starts off more slowly than Fincher’s film because of its larger focus on Mikael’s job at Millenium, his lawsuit with corrupt financier Hans-Erik Wennerström, his personal relationships, and his life in general as he tries to pick up the pieces of his career and finances after being convicted of libel. Though I’m typically a purist when it comes to film adaptations, these changes were welcome. From a cinematographer’s and moviegoer’s perspective, a large reliance on Mikael’s perspective wouldn’t have been as marketable or enjoyable as focusing the film on the character that corresponds to its title; Lisbeth’s story holds my interest much more than Blomkvist’s ever did. The tempo of Fincher’s film is much faster than the novel’s slow pace, which adds to the “aha!” factor of certain moments, but it can be agonizing. Martin Vanger’s penchant for Enya was an addition to the plot; although innately terrifying, there’s something magical about murderers who play ironic music while doing their dirty deeds (American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman, anyone?). Lisbeth’s fashion was just as delineated in the novel and more: black on black á la Johnny Cash, studded leather, ripped attire, and the pièce de résistance: a shirt that proclaimed in all caps, “fuck you you fucking fuck.” In the end, I equally enjoyed the book and film. If hot Swedes don’t persuade you to take a look at either, I don’t know what will.
MARIHA LOWE CONTRIBUTOR
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SUGAR, SPICE, AND
EVERYTHING NICE A PRINTED FASHION BLOG
ERICA ABITO CONTRIBUTOR
T
his month we found love in a hopeless place. And lust. And high heels. And lots and lots of lipstick. During winter break, I had a bit of a creative epiphany. Or maybe it was more of a social epiphany. I’m not exactly sure, but I do know that recklessness and friends and music and fashion are all essential. Honestly, I’m obsessed with each and every one of those things and I have a feeling I’m not alone. Therefore, I’ve decided to take this printed blog in a whole new direction. And that direction is wherever the party is. So from now on, my team and I will be throwing a themed soiree for every editorial. Yes, there will be intoxicating substances and scenes of young lust, but equally important, there will be fierce fashion, hair, make-up, and other sparkly things. That is why this month’s theme is titled “Pretty Damn Reckless.” I’ve realized that I can’t really tell the difference between love and lust anymore. Or between having a good time and getting
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into trouble. That’s kind of the beauty of being young these days, though. Maybe it’s always been the beauty of it. The more failed relationships and hook-ups I have, the more I have to write songs about. I think I’m addicted to the idea of a heart breaking, whether it’s his or my very own. I’m obsessed with everything that’s not good for me. It’s kind of sick, I know, but think of it as a new age ’60s-esque revolution— when the question isn’t “why” anymore, but “why not?” To quote a seriously over-played Drake song, “you only live once.” So this year, instead of making pristine resolutions you will never keep, why don’t you try to be happy? Keep on playing your favorite played-out top 40 rap-gone-house songs and making those bad decisions in and out of Vegas while you still can. I know the flowerstudded hippies had it pretty good, but I don’t think there’s ever been a better time to just be young and dumb. So live it up, kids.
The FASHION: 1. Tiffany’s blue or any hue of turquoise. Buy any accessories you see in this color, especially shoes and bags. It’s obviously pretty bright, so I wouldn’t recommend making it your new black, but suede heels or denim shorts in this color will add just enough of a pop to your overall look. (You can see these photos in color at trend diary. tumblr.com) 2. Leopard. Yes, again. I know leopardprint was part of December’s Schoolhouse Rockabilly piece, but it is definitely worth repeating. So wear it. 3. Faux fur. I don’t care if I have an official Spring Break countdown on my iPhone, it’s still cold out right now. Well, Californiacold at least. So why not use any chance you get to rock some faux fur? I really don’t wanna see anyone walking to class in this kind of coat, but anywhere else is pretty much a green light. If Carrie Bradshaw can wear fur with pajama bottoms in the streets of New York on New Years Eve, then why can’t we sport ours to the grocery store? Or a house party, at least. Wear it with denim for a rebel-casual look. 4. DIY. Do it your damn self. Have fun with fashion, because that’s what it’s there for. There’s never been an easier time to make or edit clothes yourself because distressed is in, which means you don’t need to break out that dusty sewing machine. T-shirts, denim and tights are the easiest to work with. You can rip them, cut holes in them, and stud them for days. If you’re worried about fucking up some of your favorite pieces, hop on YouTube for a million and one tutorials. 5. Tights & Knee-highs. Another trend you need to take advantage of now, before
the sun burns the clouds away. Tights are a cheap and easy accessory that can completely change your look. Try ripped, lace, or fishnet tights for hopelessly glam look. Guys’ FASHION: 1. Think Rihanna’s Chris Brown-looking counterpart in the “We Found Love” video meets James Dean. Cardigans are always irresistible on guys, especially ones with old school stripes. 2. You NEED to own at least one pair of black fitted jeans, because they look good with almost anything. 3. If you can rock them, you should definitely wear boots. They’ll give you just enough of a bad boy edge, so your cardigan or letterman’s jacket doesn’t overpower your look. Love and Chanel, Ema. P.S. Drink responsibly. Or something nice like that. Fashion Stylist/Model: Erica Abito Hair & Makeup Artist/Creative Director: Chantrelle “Cici” Canas Lead Photographer: Cherish Rualo Photographer: Greg Campos Featured Male Model: Brandon Lopez Lovely Girlfriend Models: Hollie Fiscer, Jennifer Ehrke, Stephanie Wedde, & our one and only Cici. Home-Owner/Party Enthusiast: Aram Zorian
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Beauty by Cici Ema’s look was inspired by Rihanna’s video for “We Found Love” and the punk rock princess herself, Taylor Momson. I figured blacked-out eyes, wild lips, and “the higher the hair the closer you are to heaven” look seemed very much appropriate for this month’s rebel-like, drunk love, party-‘til -you-black-the-fuck-out photoshoot.
The HAIR: 1. Curl the hair with a 1-inch barrel all around. 2. Brush the hair out with a soft-bristle brush, so the curls loosen. 3. Spray the hair with a medium hold hairspray. 4. With a teasing brush and Big Sexy Hair’s Back-Comb in a Bottle (another absolute must—it’s like glue for your tresses), tease the hair. Tease the hair like there is no tomorrow. Tease at the root and tease at the ends to create a messy rocker look. Remember the higher the hair, the closer you are to going HAM in heaven. Amen.
The MAKEUP: 1. Prep and prime the face with your favorite moisturizer and face primer. This month, I’m loving MAC’s Prep + Prime Face Primer. 2. Prime the lids using Urban Decay’s Eye Potion. Because it’s the best. 3. Next, take the color Virgin from Urban Decays’ infamous Naked Palette and apply it all around the lid up to the brow bone. This will be your base color. 4. Take MAC’s satin eyeshadow in Scene, and brush it just slightly pass the lid, focusing on making the outer corners of the eyes the darkest for depth. Smoothly blend the color in at the inner corners of the eyes. Blend, blend, blend. 5. Take a black shadow (I used one from Coastal Scents Smokey Palette) and start from the outer corners towards the center.
Since this is such a dramatic look, blending is all you can do at this point to slightly bring the black down to the water line. 6. I used Almay’s Liquid liner in Noir to achieve a nice cat-eye. 7. Line your waterlines with your favorite black eyeliner. 8. Paint your lashes with your blackest black mascara. I used Makeup Forever’s Smokey Lash in black which is a MUST HAVE! 9. Apply false lashes for a more dramatic look. 10. The brighter your cheeks and the more defined your cheekbones, the better. Try MAC’s Love Thing. 11. Last, but absolutely not least, is the lipstick. In this shoot, we used MAC’s Ruby Woo, Lickable, & Hang-up. Remember, lipstick is an accessory. Wear it bold to wear it well.
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JOHN VILLANUEVA MUSIC EDITOR
BIG LIPS,
BIGGER PERSONA DISCUSSIONS ABOUT LANA DEL REY, A FAST RISE AND THE PITFALLS OF FAME
JOHN VILLANUEVA
GENE KANG
MUSIC EDITOR
I
mage is the backbone of stardom. For one to achieve a level of stardom within the music industry, this sad reality must be the first thing to set in. Those with dignity are few and far between, separated by a clutter of fake smiles and painted personas. These plastic performers, the antiDylan’s and anti-Diamond’s of our day, are sadly the ones we attempt to measure up to. Despite spouting banalities of life and love over froyo electronics or preschool chord progressions, the famous today are measured by how they don a meat dress or tell their heartlifting backstory of a poor Christian upbringing. Which is exactly why the existence of Lana Del Rey is such a tragic occurrence. Lana, who once traversed the earth as Lizzie Grant, took the route of one miss Stephanie Germanotta, now deemed by little monsters around the world as Lady Gaga. Reinventing herself in a ’50s pin up girl image, Lana now touts her new image, doused in Bond girl sexuality for the worldwide music community. In that part she succeeds, the distribution of her music and the garnering of fans. The music, on the other hand, isn’t tapping into her true calling. Espousing herself “a gangsta Nancy Sinatra,” her music is exactly that. Which isn’t exactly a good thing, because Lana
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CONTRIBUTOR
truly can sing. Lana has a voice born for lounge, a sultry coo that occasionally wanders into the almost childlike sexuality of a Monroe-esque whisper. My early viewings of her were promising: her performance of “Video Games” on Jools Holland, backed by a piano and a string quartet, showed the potential; a voice of pure sexuality thinly veiling an underlying fragility. Her tracks, however, lack that same sincerity, that simple, haunting purity. What we instead receive is again the product of the corporate music monster aimed at satisfying the fist pumping masses. Songs like “Off to the Races” and “Born to Die” apparently feel the need to incorporate garish drum tracks and ’90s era vocal samples over perfectly adequate strings. The sickness pervades other tracks like “Blue Jeans” with its Spaghetti Western guitar painting a sunset for Lana to ride off into. The song would have reached its destination too, if not for the cheap handclaps and incessant “yeahs” every couple of fucking seconds. This is what this music is reduced to, the cheap achievements of any basement beatmaker with basic skills in Reason software and a Neon Bape hoodie. That’s a shame, and one that will continue pursue Lana for the remainder of her career unless she chooses to do something. For her sake, I hope she does.
Before Lana Del Rey’s persona was born, she was an artist formerly known as Lizzie Grant. Lizzie Grant was signed to a major record label, but she failed to gain any buzz. So, in order to move Grant into Hollywood territory, her label “rebranded” her image. Grant had lip implants and changed her name and persona to Lana Del Rey. And how is Del Rey’s music different from Grant’s? Not much really. A few tweaks of sound here and there to let her ’50s persona shine through, but Del Rey’s music sounds very similar to Grant’s. Lana Del Rey’s recent performance on Saturday Night Live was disastrous, awkward, and amateurish. The so-called performance was nothing more than an outcast waddling on stage, like an angst-filled teenager stumbling to ask out the prettiest girl in class. Del Rey’s American television debut was an uneasy start to fame and glamour, fame and glamour that was given to her on a gold-coated plate. However, Del Rey is not a tasteless artist. She has a vivid ’50s American persona and is jaw-droppingly sexy. Her three singles, “Video Games,” “Blue Jeans,” and “Born to Die” aren’t terrible, but she’s not doing anything musically striking-enough to be the next big thing. With only three songs under her
belt and a soon-to-be-released album, does Del Rey have the actual talent to make it big or is she just another average, over-hyped, plastic, manufactured, glamour-created hot shot coasting her way into Billboard charts? “Deservedness” lingers in the back of my mind when looking at Del Rey’s success. Even NBC Nightly News anchor Brian Williams had some criticism about Del Rey: “Brooklyn hipster Lana Del Rey had one of the worst outings in SNL history last night—booked on the strength of her TWO SONG web EP, the least-experienced musical guest in the show’s history, for starters.” Brian Williams’ statements about Del Rey are true, but Williams dismisses Del Rey’s star treatment shortcut to fame. Whether we like Del Rey or not, she says a lot about our current music culture and how music itself isn’t sufficient enough for an artist to gain popularity. Much of our culture nods irrationally at how we say if an artist is talented or not, apparently music isn’t the one and only factor to state if a musician is good or not, image is now how we judge our stars. Lizzie Grant decided to wear some new clothes, redo her hair, and inject her lips with collagen and became Lana Del Rey. And we believed every word of it.
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UNION STAFFER
NICOLE GOUDARZIAN
TUESDAYS WITH RINGO
UNION STAFFER
ROSE FEDUK
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Disclaimer:
This page is satire, but we support the creation of the Birth Cunt Troll. We are not ASI, nor do we represent the CSULB campus. We’d like some investor to help us get the Birth Cunt Troll off the ground, maybe get some toys going. Email me at octogirl. grun@gmail.com with all your money.
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>"%&'A&"B#&'7;&'C1$D'"E ' 37R&' ."++S' 0&T' .$DD' 37R&+'>&6$U&'K%&;HU7 FGH+'I";#6J BY POPE BENEDICT XVI “And He came unto them, and warned them of the folly of false worship. The stars are I, the sun is I, the sky is I, and you are alone in this Garden, save
for I.” And they fell upon their knees in the glory of He, and had no others. Sirach 30:13 I was watching the History Channel the other day, or as I like to call it, the liberal revisionist History Channel, so that I could make sure I tell my flock just what lies are being spread to those too young to have actually experienced these moments in life, when I stumbled upon a certain balding, yet poof-haired individual. This Giorgio Tsoukalos, the poor lost soul he is, tried to explain to me, the skeptical viewer, that aliens exist, and that they have influenced “primitive” man and helped design some of the most wonderful man-made structures on Earth. This is patently false, for many reasons. Namely due to the fact that aliens, much like the Holocaust, do not exist. Loyal reader, I’m sure that in order to keep such a skeptical mind to disbelieve this Tsoukalos, you must also have a skeptical mind with which to sometimes doubt my words. That is perfectly acceptable, my children, because faith is always strengthened from periods of doubt. I will prove to you that aliens do not exist, with such simple terms that even a poor Greek would understand. Ancient Aliens tries to perpetuate the
BY JURB BILL myth that aliens influenced architecture and art from thousands of years ago, for “primitive” man. The first reason why this would be impossible is because the Earth is clearly only 6,000 years old. But you say the pyramids and Babylon, were only four thousand years ago, if not sooner. That is correct, but these men and women were far from “primitive” as this show suggests. The only primitivity of those people is that they had yet to experience the Salvation known as Christ. Where are the records of these alien visitors? We have records of the Fall of Man, and the Great Flood, where are these space invaders? I would also like to point out that the Tower of Babel is concrete proof of the displeasure of blasphemic buildings. Obviously, especially from the quote that I opened this editorial with, that God would find any structure built in an image not of He would be smote to smithereens. Excuse my alliteration, I sometimes get carried away with myself. Clearly these Wonders and structures that still exist to this day could only have been made with God’s image and beauty in mind. Only His creativity could inspire the architects, and all those hands that crafted these marvels. Not aliens. Just as the Church denies the existence of gay love, the Church denies the existence of aliens. They have never existed, and they will never exist. We are alone on this lonely planet, in the vastness of space, and while we are alive, we are forever aching to be closer to our creator. No amount of anal penetration will fill that hole. Aliens do not exist. Gays do not love. These are facts.
Buddy Valastro, a.k.a. the Cake Boss, has garnered the attention of the sweet tooths (and sweet dicks) around the world, and has simultaneously given “hotcakes” an entirely new meaning with his latest cake creation: Fuckable Butt Cakes. “But I can’t take credit for this gem of an idea,” Valastro said. “This guy came in asking me to make him a fuckable butt cake and I telled the guy, ‘Yous got the best cake idea I’ve ever heard in my life. I’ll get it to you by tomorrow!’ And so we started making the cake. And, boy, what a cake it was! Sure I’ve made some really sexy cakes in my time. I mean, I’ve made life-size cake replicas of my sisters for Pete’s-sake! I’ve made erotic and exotic cakes, but this butt cake was a whole ‘nother shebang! We were making it out of modeling chocolate, and I say, ‘You know what, it’s a frickin’ butt, let’s make it authentic. We’ve all got ‘em. Butts, I mean. We’ve all got butts.’ So Tone-Tone made the cheeks, and I took the cheeks in my hands, and I was just inspired. It looked frickin’ ridiculous! It looked like a butt!” This universality of butts, and of wanting to fuck butts, that Valastro has tapped into is the reason that America can’t just “hit it and quit it,” but instead “hits it, and eats it, and then gets another cake.” And no one is celebrating Buddy’s success more than Buddy who has even changed his moniker to the “Butt Cake Boss.” The cable television network TLC has followed suit, changing the show’s name to match.
Derrick Dapper, the customer who had originally ordered the fuckable butt cake, says the beginning of this whole craze was entirely accidental. “Funnily enough, it all stems from a hilarious misunderstanding,” Dapper said. “Buddy misheard me when I ordered the cake. I actually asked for a bundt cake. A fuckable bundt cake.” Dapper has since asked Valastro if they could become business partners since the idea technically came from Dapper. Dapper states that he “could really use the money” because he is pretty “unemployed” and his family is “going hungry.” “I learned an important lesson from all this,” Dapper said. “You can’t fuck your cake and have your family eat it too.” “Tough noogies,” Valastro responded.
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Reeling from their mutual divorces, Zooey Deschanel and Katy Perry have decided to join together to become the holy union that tantalizes every teenage boy across America. In a sign of solidarity, Zooey, who will hence forth refer to herself as Zoty, will go under the knife to receive a breast augmentation similar to that of Katy Perry. Katy, will not change her name, but promises to be just as terrible of a person.
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