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CHEL ME ABOUT IT LETTER FROM THE EDITOR CHELSEA STEVENS CHELSEA STEVENS 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
alison.union@gmail.com
STEVE BESSETTE
steveb.union@gmail.com
News Director
Entertainment Editor
JOHN VILLANUEVA Music Editor
LEO PORTUGAL Literature Editor
VINCENT CHAVEZ Culture Editor
vincha.union@gmail.com
OCTOPUS GIRL
octogirl.grun@gmail.com
GABE FERREIRA
Art Director, Cover Design
CONNOR O’BRIEN
Photo Editor, Cover Photos
CHRIS FABELA
On-Campus Distribution
STEVE BESSETTE
Advertising Executive
gabe.union@gmail.com connor.union@gmail.com cfab.union@gmail.com steveb.union@gmail.com
FOLASHADE ALFORD folashade.union@gmail.com PR Specialist
Contributors: NICOLE STREET BRIAN WANGENHEIM LISA VAN WIJK JAMES G. MORALES WES VERNER TORIE RIVERA LAUREN HANNIGAN MIKE CLELAND INGRID ROSALES NATHAN CRUZ
MARIHA LOWE
UNION STAFFER
leop.union@gmail.com
cfab.union@gmail.com
Grunion Editor
Illustrations
johnv.union@gmail.com
CHRIS FABELA Comics Editor
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
LAURA KAISER NICHOLE DANIELS MOLLY SHANNON BEN NOVOTNY JOSE COREA ERICA MEDRANO TANYA PAZ JOSH STEINBERG ROSE FEDUK VIOLET BANKS
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? MAIL : 1212 Bellflower Blvd. Suite 239, Long Beach, CA 90815 PHONE : 562.985.4867 FAX : 562.985.8161 E-MAIL : lbunion.info@gmail.com WEB : www.asicsulb.org/lbunion
W
alter Ellis Disney is solely responsible for defining the first seven years of my life. I ate, slept, and breathed Disney princess; every morning began with a spirited rendition of “Belle,” and ended with a dramatically emotive “Part of Your World” (okay, this might still be true, but I don’t talk about it). Disneymania was a common disease for little girls in the ’90s, but mine was a very special case. My parents met while working together at Disneyland. My mother played everything from Chip (a la Chip and Dale), to Happy of “Seven Dwarves” fame, to Snow White herself. My father played drums on the Mark Twain and in the Golden Horseshoe (back when shows in there were actually worth watching). They got married in 1989, and the subsequent result was a blonde, blue-eyed ball of Disney magic. The constant flow of Disney culture into my tiny impressionable brain had an irreparable effect. When I was old enough to pick my own outfits, I would only leave the house in one of my multitude of princess dresses. I once wore my Mary Poppins dress to preschool for two weeks straight. To this day, my crippling Disneymania hasn’t subsided in the slightest. I continue to judge men by how similar they look to Eric (the only Disney prince worth dating), and I swear the Union staff will murder me the next time I force them to listen to my Lion King playlist. I still go to the park for my birthday every single year. My parents eventually divorced, but my dad soon remarried my step-mom, who worked with him in the Horseshoe as a can-can dancer. My sister now dances at Disneyland herself, in the Soundsational parade. We all remain a very proud Disney family.
Last week, a few members of the Union staff and I visited the Forest Lawn Memorial Park of Glendale. This particular cemetery is known worldwide for holding some of Hollywood’s most timeless celebrities, and upon entering the park, we realized why famous people would want to spend the rest of eternity there. The site is so expansive, it could probably fit two Disneylands within its wrought iron gates. The front gates themselves are dripping with rich graveyard swag; you can practically hear the diamonds of the interned raining down across the entire property. I wouldn’t be surprised if Disney modeled the Haunted Mansion after this very place. With such shameless grandeur, one would expect the celebrities buried here to be lavished with the most exquisite grave site furnishings available, but this is entirely the opposite at Glendale’s Forest Lawn. Without a map, someone simply looking through the cemetery to find their favorite stars could literally spend a week roaming the grounds without a single sighting. In fact, the graves that were garnished with gorgeous statues and marble decor were for normal people, with no celebrity status whatsoever. I first experienced this shock when we came across the grave of Nat King Cole, one of the most celebrated singers of all time, and one of my personal heroes. Nat was unceremoniously shoved in a wall, between scores of other nondescript cadavers, with only his name scrawled across the box to mark his eternal residence. The same treatment was given to Jimmy Stewart, also a timeless name in Hollywood history, best known for his leading role in It’s a Wonderful Life. But Jimmy is stuck in a hill along with about three
thousand other unadorned headstones. There wasn’t a single flower near his grave. I put one there just to make him feel better. Apparently there are even bigger stars after-living at Forest Lawn, but most of them are placed in private areas unreachable by the public’s prying eyes. This kind of treatment was given to Humphrey Bogart, Elizabeth Taylor, and Michael Jackson. Luckily for me, the fine people of Forest Lawn didn’t find the same treatment necessary for Walt Disney. After twenty minutes of searching, I finally found Disney’s grave in the back corner of the “Court of Freedom.” Walt has his very own garden about the size of a closet, enclosed with a simple brick wall and low iron gate. The gate was unlocked, and as I swung it open, I was taken down by a borrage of emotions. The first, “Holy shit, I’m on Walt Disney’s grave,” was quickly replaced with a sadness that the only token left by a visitor was a weathered, Mickeyshaped Christmas ornament. Walt’s small garden was well-taken care of, but that’s all that was left of him: a simple array of flowers, surrounding a statuette of the original Little Mermaid. The man whose imagination had shaped my entire childhood will lie there forever, one in an endless sea of graves. Even more than Hollywood’s forgotten stars and their dully average tombstones, I feel for the people whose idols are locked away in the caverns of Forest Lawn, who can never experience what I did when I read Disney’s name on his headstone and knelt beside his grave. Now that I know where Walt hangs out, I’ll probably drive up to see him more often. Have a magical week everyone, and thanks for reading. UNION WEEKLY
5 MARCH 2012
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HELTER SHELTER AN ARGUMENT FOR AN ANIMAL’S SOUL BEN NOVOTNY UNION STAFFER
H
umans are not the only ones being affected by the California budget crisis. Governor Jerry Brown has proposed cutting $23 million in funding for state animal shelters, which could cut the amount of time that lost or stray animals are kept alive before they are euthanized. Currently, shelters have to wait six days from the day after they bring in an animal to the time they can euthanize it. The cost of feeding the animal, giving it water and shelter, and taking care of it are paid for by the city, the county, and the state. The city and county pay for the first three days, while the remaining three days are paid for by the state. The requirement
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MARIAH LOWE UNION STAFFER
that the state pay for the first three days is under a bill called Hayden’s law. No, it has nothing to do with Hayden Panettiere (animal activist she may be); it was named after State Senator Tom Hayden. He first proposed the law, which was passed in 1998. The bill also requires that animal shelters stay open after business hours on weekends and weekday nights so that animal owners can find their lost pets that have gone missing. But Governor Brown wants to repeal Hayden’s Law, and allow shelters to euthanize animals within three days of bringing them in, rather than six. Many animal rights activists in California are furious at the Governor, who has a
dog himself that he sometimes uses for publicity purposes. On Thursday, February 23, 45,000 signatures were turned in to the Governor’s office urging him not to repeal Hayden’s law. Governor Brown has said that repealing this law would save the state $46 million annually, but seriously Governor, isn’t there any other way for the state to save money? California currently has a $13 billion budget deficit, and you want to pay off not even 1% of that money by killing innocent animals? Shame on you, Governor. As Thomas Hayden said recently, this is not a fiscal issue. This is a moral issue. I decided to write this article because of an experience I had at an animal shelter six years
ago. I went to the Long Beach Animal Shelter with my dad and stepmother to get a new cat because the one they had just ran away and was never found. There I saw this little dog with one eye, and I remember one of the guys working there saying that if nobody adopted this little dog then it would be euthanized. I hope a loving family adopted that dog, and Hayden’s law made it more likely that it was. But what bothers me is that the state of California allows animals to be euthanized in the first place. Contrary to what some people may say, animals do have souls, and if the governor decides he wants to have innocent stray dogs, cats, or other animals euthanized so he could save the state a few bucks, then he’s completely soulless.
MO’ MONEY MO’ PROBLEMS EXCEPT I HAVE NO MONEY BEN ROBERTS UNION STAFFER
Working: it sucks. No one truly likes to go to work. That’s why it is called “work.” If you really liked how you make money, you would say, “Hey, I’m on my way to my job! Woo!” But no, most of you, including me, say, “Ugh, I gotta go to work. Fuck.” It doesn’t even matter where you’re employed. After a while, you just don’t like going to work anymore. I used to have a job in a restaurant, and for a while, I really did enjoy working there. But then after a while, it just became another duty. A stupid, dumb routine. I started to hate serving food to idiotic people that were rude, having to refill the ice machine all
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the time, and having to explain to people why the breadsticks aren’t free. They aren’t because they cost the restaurant money. It is not that hard to understand that breadsticks cost the business as well! Even my friend Skylar, who works in a skateshop, doesn’t like his job anymore. His complaints include having to sit around all day, talking to the occasional people that come by, and playing with a bouncy ball for most of his shift. He finds it extremely boring. I, on the other hand, find it to be the ideal job. He gets paid to do nothing, how awesome! I understand that it could get boring after a while, but
still, that’s just a first world problem. At my new job, I work in retail. Does that sound exciting to you?! Well, it should not sound exciting. All I do when I work is fold clothes. Literally, I will be there for five or more hours spending 99% of the time folding clothes; folding the same fucking t-shirt all the time, so it can look “nice and cripsy.” Fuck looking nice and crispy, it isn’t the end of the world if one t-shirt is a little wrinkly or is a “loose” fold. No one notices. It’s okay if all the shoelaces aren’t tied. It honestly doesn’t make a single difference at the end of the day. The last thing I want to hear at the end of a shift is, “Oh, hey Ben,
could you refold that stack of shirts? It doesn’t look crispy enough.” Fuck you and your crispy shirts! I thought working in retail would be better than working in a restaurant, but no. It’s just more busy work. If I got paid by the amount of shirts I fold, then maybe I wouldn’t complain. But I don’t, and it sucks. I only get paid $8.50 an hour. That is not enough to justify how many clothes I fold every day. The only positive out of working in retail is my 40% off discount, but even then, that just drains the little money that I get, so I rarely even use it. Fuck work.
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PARENTS GET REVENGE
ALL YOUR TEEN-ANGSTY POETRY WAS WRONG VIOLET BANKS CONTRIBUTOR
After two years on my own I have to come to one very uneasy conclusion about life. My parents were actually kind of... right. Between the nagging and short-term punishments, they were actually trying tell me something. When I moved out I could throw caution to the wind. It turns out caution is like a boomerang, and it’s taken these two years to hit me in the face. Taking 12+ units and working has resulted in me constantly ignoring my stomach. I figure I’ll eat when I arrive at my next destination and never do. My mom always made sure I at least had breakfast and fulfilling dinner. I miss that because as I’m typing this, my stomach is eating away at itself. Go ahead and laugh all you want, but I Googled “Can your stomach eat itself ” and apparently your stomach eats remaining fat and eventually the protective lining, or something like that, when you don’t feed yourself. This alone is creepy enough for me to take my mom’s advice and pack a lunch the night before. One parental rule always got to me was bedtimes. As embarrassing as it sounds, I had a bedtime up until 11th grade. I had to
Illustration
CHRIS FABELA COMICS EDITOR
be in bed by 10 on school nights. My dad would pop his head in my room around 9:45pm to make sure I was settling in. And I mean this pissed me off because I missed countless re-runs of Seinfeld while people my age got to stay up on the phone. Three years later I have 8am classes and subject myself a 10:30pm bedtime and despise getting calls after 9pm. If by some chance I try staying up, I leave for class the next day half dressed and barely conscious. One important note to self: Hulu has everything and Saturday nights are re-run night on E! Growing up I never really did my own laundry. My mom would wash, dry, and dump my clothes on my bed. All she asked was that I fold them. Unless you’re some gleeful freak of nature, you don’t like folding clothes. This is why she would scold me every time she entered my room and found I hadn’t touched the pile. When I moved out I knew no one cared whether I put up laundry. And because of this, I left clean clothes in a hamper for weeks before discovering shirts identical to prunes. It got so bad that I had to rewash them to undo some of the manmade wrinkles.
Once again, my parents proved to have a valid point. The same thing applies for dishes. In my household I had to do dishes every night. If there were still dishes in the sink the next morning I would never hear the end of it. Now I know that it’s because after two or more days in the sink an unpleasant smell forms around the sink. Don’t get me wrong I’m probably the most germaphobic person you will ever meet, but doing dishes every night isn’t
my thing. And don’t get me started on the reason why your mom would throw out the week old leftovers you hoped to come home to. I’m in no way advocating living on the straight and narrow. For example, last week’s laundry still has yet to be folded. I realize that I have just admitted—in print—that everything my parents told me about chores and responsibility is true, but I never plan on telling them that to their faces.
TRYING TO SHAKE THE FLAKE WORSE THAN ANY CASE OF DANDRUFF YOU’LL EVER HAVE ALISON ERNST NEWS EDITOR
A commitment is a commitment. When you say to someone that you’re going to do something together, you do it. It’s called following-through. For some reason, people have been applying different meanings when they agree to hang out. This bothers me. If I ask someone to do something with me and they accept, I expect him/her to follow through and do said activity with me. I do not expect him/her to cancel roughly 24 hours in advance before said concert, leaving me with an extra $35 concert ticket when no one else is available to go. This
situation sucks. If you’re going to bail on someone, you better come with some pretty good excuses or at least have the decency to decline the invitation in the first place. Someone might ask you out and you might not be interested. Instead of beating around the stupid bush, you should be honest and just tell him/her that you just are not interested. Yeah, initially they might be a little hurt, but they will get over it and realize that they are better than you anyway. Why are we so freaking afraid of honesty? It kills me. I would rather have
someone tell me that they don’t want to hang out with me, then be left hanging. Gah. Excuses. I am so young and yet, I have already heard so many excuses. Facebook is possibly the best stalking device ever invented. If you say you can’t do something and I just happen to see your name popping up on my “News Feed,” I get a little suspicious. If you say that you can’t do anything because you are so devastated that you failed your last midterm, do not go and “Check-In” at Disneyland. I’m not trying to stalk you, but when it gets Facebookpublished, everyone sees it. Flake.
Honesty might feel more difficult in the short-run, but looking ahead, it will save both parties quite a bit of time when they aren’t stuck in an awkward limbo. If you’re a flake, just stop making these commitments that you cannot followthrough on. If you have that flake in your life, just stop inviting them places and distance yourself. Maybe they’ll realize how important you are to them and they’ll come back. If not, just think about all of the non-flakers you can invite to join you on the fun times. Flakes never prosper. And they die alone. UNION WEEKLY
5 MARCH 2012
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LIBRARY, HERE, FREE LIBRARY, FRESH FISH, SHAVE AND A HAIRCUT ALAMITOS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION LENDS A LIBRARY SHELLEY DOORIGHTVILLE WOMAN OF THE SEA
Long Beach, CA-1910-Here, here, gatha ‘round you nannynuckers and fancy dancing Californ-eye-ans, please take knee (gentlelads only) and lift your skirts (only above the ankle, lady darlings) for the great and powerful Oz of the free world all around, Mister Andrew Carnegie. You know, I heard from that filthy Mary Hartman down on 4th Street that Mister Andrew Carnegie doesn’t even have a middle name slapped betwixt the first and last. Well, well, well, I just don’t see how it could be such a matter, since a woman so gutter filthy as Mary Hartman has no heavenly right to question such a man as Mister Andrew Carnegie, ever
since he’s been giving out library buildings all around. Now that we as citizens in this frothy beach town are no longer the maître d’s and sooty chimney sweepers under the diamond crested heels of the Los Angeleans, but becoming a town in our own right. According to the census, we are indeed the fastest growing community in the entirety of these God-forsaken United States of America, that’s right, that’s right. As a city, we can send most thanks to the fact of being awarded a tax-run library open to the very public reading this fine, fine rag. But Mister Andre Carnegie’s beautiful wrinkled hand wouldn’t have harvested our
need for enlightenment without the faithful guidance of the women of the Alamitos Library Association. Now, these women aren’t necessarily all born and bred spitting Long Beach fodder, but they are just the sweetest things since rosemary and thyme made themselves known to us ladybeths as fine cooking additions. The ladies of the ALA donated the site that has become the Alamitos Library, the very first branch of the Long Beach Public Library service. Now I as a woman am proud to be a woman, and don’t you dare drop this yellowed paper in horse doodle just because of that, Mister Steel Mill Tycoon. We may
not have the right to vote in a common election just as we have the right, nay the obligation, to bear a dozen or so children for the faithful upbringing in the Lord Almighty, and capitalism. We as women, though, are the only beings allowed to be librarians, and we accept this not as a lower managing position needing fulfillment by the lowest denominator, but as a duty and a privilege. All of these women- wait. Looky here at the woman down in the front, second to the right from the young boy, in the white dress. Is that a woman? Look at that face. Mary Hartman would get a kick out of this assuredly.
ACCOUNTING FOR OUR LOSSES
CSULB UNIT CAPS PROHIBIT SOME STUDENTS FROM OBTAINING THEIR CPA LICENSE ALISON ERNST NEWS DIRECTOR
First of all, you should be aware of the 140-unit cap that is imposed on all CSULB accounting students. That means that we cannot take more than 140 units at CSULB, which sucks. I understand the perspective of the school and state, and how we need to banish the super seniors. It probably impacts a lot of degrees, but it definitely impacts accounting majors. In order to become a CPA (Certified Public Accountant), you must pass the CPA exam, pass an ethics exam, take a certain numbers of units in accounting and business-related subjects, and complete a
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total of 150 units. 150 units is more than 140 units. How can one become a licensed CPA without taking the required number of units? You can’t. In order to obtain the necessary number of units, some accounting students are choosing to take classes at a community college. Another option that has become available to accounting students is through pursing master’s degree in accounting. UC Riverside has recently created a program that enables students to pursue their fifth year in order to obtain the units necessary to become a CPA. More and more students
are choosing to get their master’s degree. It does help in making them more attractive to future employers by having that fifth year of education under their belts. It just sucks for accounting students that intend on becoming public accountants. The unit-cap creates extra work. The CPA exam also has a reputation for being an incredibly difficult test, with a nation wide pass rate around 45-50%. So students not only have to plan their schedule to accommodate the extra units, but they also have to study and spend a lot of time preparing for the exam.
UC Riverside is currently accepting applications for its master’s program that will begin on September 1. The deadline to apply is May 1. This is a great way for students to earn the units they need and expand their accounting knowledge. If you are possibly thinking about becoming an accounting major, you should definitely look into it. The world needs more accountants; it is estimated by the Bureau of Labor and Statistics that the demand for accountants will increase by 22% by 2018. There are not many majors where the demand is expected to increase.
FEATURE
HOLLYWOOD ENDINGS
Searching for Celebrity Tombs in the City’s Most Famous Graveyard
MARCO BELTRAN SENIOR EDITOR
I
t’s a strange thing to visit a graveyard you have no emotional connection to. That’s all I could think about as I walked around Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, amongst the dead of the greater Los Angeles County’s past. I don’t do well with dead people. I’ve never gone close to a body during a wake for fear of them waking up or it being a big dead body prank that everyone was in on except me. With no person to bury and no loved one to visit, my mind was telling me that I should feel bad for everyone that died because they left behind someone that loved them enough to bury their body, or that I should at least acknowledge that I’m walking over centuries of dead bodies that deserve my admiration and
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LAURA KAISER CONTRIBUTOR
respect, but I couldn’t keep that up. I just felt really awkward trying to equate some kind of emotional attachment to someone I’ve never met, and will never meet because they’re dead and rotting in the ground. As much as I wanted to, and I honestly did try to—as I walked around reading each grave stone and plate, between the enormous statues of historical figures and random deities, I counted the years between the deaths among the married couples and tried to relate how it might feel to live for 20 or 30 years without the person I loved—it just didn’t feel natural. Once I realized that this was just a beautiful place to visit, my mind started to wander towards random things—zombierelated things along the lines of Night
of the Living Dead 2, mostly, as well as how many people were buried alive, or a ghost party that the janitors clean up before the park opens—stupid things to distract myself from my own paranoia of breathing in the rotting particles of the dead people that surrounded me. I, along with my fellow adventurers, quickly became bored with all the sights. Sure there were some cool things: a random museum with three large rooms full of sculptures, stainedglass windows, and suits of armor, and the graves of celebrities like Nat King Cole, Chico Marx, Walt Disney, and Jimmy Stewart. We came across a garden area protected by a large replica of the Statue of David; the metal doors like Secret Garden, and
they guarded an actual secret garden where Sammy Davis Jr., Mary Pickford, and Humphrey Bogart are buried. We got a peek over the brick walls and considered climbing over, but figured if we were going to get arrested, it’d be for something more dangerous than jumping a garden wall. That’s when we decided to go for the score of a lifetime: to find the very secret tomb of the late pop icon, Michael Jackson. Under the pretense of going to see a presentation of a stainedglass version of “The Last Supper” in Forest Lawn’s Great Mausoleum, from which I came out thinking Leonardo Da Vinci was an asshole for the reason he gave for not finishing Jesus’ face, we embarked on our search.
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FEATURE
STEVE BESSETTE ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR
The main hall of the Great Mausoleum had two staircases leading downward, both blocked off by a simple chain link. Somewhere down in the hidden caverns of hell were the resting places of Liz Taylor and Michael Jackson, whose casket hasn’t been seen since his funeral. Photographer Laura suggested we just do it, just hop on over. Like a typical green I didn’t think it was good idea. She told us to hold on, looked both ways and slid under the chain. Within seconds she was coming back up the other set of stairs, over the other chain. She reported it was pretty expansive down there, but all blocked off by a metal gate. For some reason when she said “gate” I thought something waist high. “Just come down and see it,” she said. I slid my lanky build under the chain like I was a douchey Tom Cruise-ian character evading an armed laser in a museum of the dead. Immediately the gate in question was before Laura and I. It was actually taller than both of us, reaching from floor to ceiling and looked like the entrance to a jail cell. I tugged on one of the bars. It was unlocked. I might as well have unlocked the gate to hell. The Great Mausoleum is built on a hill, so part of the lower annals are underground and some aren’t. This not only made it difficult to spatially orient myself, but also added to the creep factor, and this was a labyrinth of creep. There are four floors that descend down past the initial floor. Each one has its own corridors, columbaria (storage/display rooms for urns,
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THERE IT WAS, 70 FEET FROM US: THE SARCOPHAGUS OF MICHAEL JACKSON. ashes and all), and its own multiple hallways with multiple hallways within those. I felt like an insane rat in a sadistic death maze. The crisp coldness wafting around the corridors seemed to generate from the tall glassy marble walls packed with plots of the dead with gold plated names and small bronze flower holders. Or torch holders for cult gatherings. Either one. Some people’s spots on the walls had the standard crosses, American flags, military branch insignias, and then some had big brass Masonry symbols and pentagrams symbolizing the Order of the Eastern Star, a Freemason spin-off group. It was agonizing walking through the halls knowing there were hundred-year-old skeletons packed in the walls like sardines. Some had tiny sitting areas that looked like flower-less gardens. It was all dimly lit from ceiling lamps and dozens of stained glass windows depicting ghostly mourning, painting shadows over distressed sculptures. Makes your hair stand up. Marco: Meanwhile, the rest of our group stayed behind to keep watch for any security and wait for Steve and Laura to
report back on what they found. Like the best heist team, we sat around talking as loudly and obnoxiously as possible. No one kept watch around the corner for security or even looked around the room for cameras in case we were all ready caught. I felt a little anxious when ten minutes passed and started walking around looking for another way down, only to run into more coffins and urns. As beautiful as the Great Mausoleum is, it’s a really shitty place to bring kids. You’re limited in what you can do because most of the place is restricted. I walked through the six halls looking for open doors and tugging on anything, hoping it would reveal an open coffin and I would get to see a dead body. No such luck, but I did kill enough time until Steve and Laura came back up, ripe with fear and excitement. After reconvening upstairs, we went back down to scour every corner, on every level. It was more of the same. That’s when Laura, armed with her camera hidden in Chelsea’s purse, took me to a passage she stopped at. This passage seemed to go on and on, until we rounded a cor-
ner and the space opened up. The white marble ground changed to amber and the walls circled out. Above us was a Sistine Chapel like ceiling. I was taking all of this in as we stepped into this new area. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a tiny camera above us to the right jetting out of the wall. I put my arm out to stop Laura and brought her backwards. “Is it worth it?” She said. “It could be. But it also couldn’t be.” “It might be right there.” “I know. Well, what can they do to us?” “Security could kick us out.” “Yeah. Could they arrest us? For trespassing?” “Maybe.” “What if we just sneak past, stay close to the wall?” Like cat burglars scaling a building, we crept close to the wall, right under the camera’s nose, up a giant staircase to the right. I could feel my palms perspiring at the end of my hasty swaying arms, making my hands even chillier. Down to the left, further and further into darkness, the sounds made by our four scurrying feet were cacophonous and thundering, bouncing off the high ceilings and around the walls closing us in. “Wait, stop. Stop,” I ordered. We froze and I listened. “Sorry, I thought I heard someone else.” I could hear the blood pulsing through my head. The insane tunnel vision was making it hard to walk straight. I half expected Satan to come around the corner mopping the floors.
FEATURE
Marco: I was standing near the chain were Steve and Laura had gone down. I was half concerned with their well-being and half anxious to make my way down to the lower levels. I stood there pointing at the stairs hoping someone else shared my need for adventure, but no. Everyone just sat there. Right as I was about to slide under the chain, a woman in a suit jacket walked into my line of vision and said, “The exhibit is about to close and we’ve already called security on your friends.” Oh fuck, I thought to myself. Steve is fucking dead. We came to another crux. To the right, more hallways, to the left... “That’s it,” Laura said. There it was, 70 feet from us: the sarcophagus of Michael Jackson. Running through my stupid head was, “I’m Indiana Jones and this is the Ark of the Covenant. Nice.” His lily-white tomb was raised above colorful flora and below a thin stained glass window. We walked at normal speed for the first time. I kept looking behind and above us to spot any cameras, but it was difficult because the hallway had a lot of ridges where a camera could have easily been hung. “Should I take a picture?” Laura asked, already taking her camera out of the purse. Within an instant I knew we were screwed. There, in the upper-right crux of the opening of his area was a large take-yourpicture-if-you-run-a-red-light camera looking directly at us. I dodged to the side into a hallway out of sight and yelled in a loud whisper. “Laura, camera!”
She didn’t hear me and continued taking the camera out of the purse. She saw me over in the hallway. “What?” “There’s a fucking camera, right there.” “Oh, shit, let’s go, fuck it, let’s go.” We started with our typical scurry, then just started booking it. With that camera still on us, yeah, I was Indiana Jones, and that camera was a giant rolling boulder. I felt like we had seen a few doors coming down, but with every corner retracing our steps there were none. We finally found one that happened to lead right out to the parking lot. We stepped toward it. It clicked as we neared it and that made us dart away, like it was a bomb. Oh, God, dear God, they’re locking us in, this is it, no escaping, game over, man. Then it clicked again. “It’s gotta be a sensor,” Laura said. We crouched and neared it again, waiting for the click. Then, from somewhere behind us, “You guys need to get out of here, now.” “Fuck it, just go!” We burst through to the parking lot where Laura ducked behind Chelsea’s car and I behind some other person’s. I later realized that we, Laura Kaiser and Steve Bessette, are the last people in the entire world to have seen Michael Jackson’s grave, and some of the only people ever to see it after he was moved to Glendale. Millions had purchased hundred-dollar concert tickets to barely witness the glittering glove. We made 20 feet away from the King of Pop, just by virtue of sheer determination.
Caption of this images goes here.
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THE PAINS OF BEING OLD AT HEART
TAYLOR WILLIAMSON ON HIS PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE IN STAND-UP COMEDY CHRISTY BONHAM UNION STAFFER
O
n Thursday night there was the “Really Really Big Comedy Show” on campus at The Nugget. Oh, you didn’t know? Apparently neither did anyone else. That’s a damn shame, because there were some pretty talented comics sharing their magic on stage. Headlining was Taylor Williamson, who was a semifinalist on Last Comic Standing a couple years ago. I met him a few weeks back after he did a show at The Improv Space. I was immediately a fan. Not only did I find him funny, but after the show I got to talk to him and he was friendly, sincere, and gave me some pretty sound advice about the comedy biz. I highly recommend that you and a bunch of your pals come to the next show here on campus because if we don’t support them, we could lose these great free entertainment opportunities. Union Weekly: Do you notice, in stand- up comedy, that there’s this trend where you have to have a comedy jacket—a hoody or leather jacket? Taylor Williamson: I mean old school comedians wore a tie—a keyboard tie like Uncle Joey on Full House. UW: Very late ’80s, early ’90s. TW: Yeah. There were blazers. Guys who wore suits. Now, it’s like casual. Hoody is the way to go now. It’s not a comedy thing. It’s more like a young, lazy guy thing. I can go on a date wearing a hoody…but I don’t get second dates. UW: You need a leather jacket in that case. TW: Yeah.
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UW: I notice all my friends who are young comedians wear leather jackets but I can’t pull one off. TW: There is no uniform. Just be you. UW: When did you decide to pursue comedy? TW: In high school I decided to write jokes and then I wrote jokes for about a year. When I was 17, I decided to try it out. It worked. UW: So you’re saying someone in their 20s is past their prime? TW: No, no. That’s the cool thing about comedy—it’s never too late to pursue your dreams, unless your dream is to be the youngest comedian ever. But I’m lucky I started early. I got to be jaded in life earlier than most people. UW: Did your sense of humor develop from your family or did you discover it on your own? TW: My family is not on purpose funny. They don’t mean to be funny, but they’re crazy funny. Like my grandma explaining to me that eating at her place is better than eating at The Olive Garden. I’ve been aware of their ridiculousness, but they’re not funny. They’re not hilarious people. They’re crazy. They’re fun. They’re funny without meaning to be. They’re wacky. I was able to separate myself and be aware of the situation. UW: Does your family think you’re funny? TW: Some of them. I don’t know if they all understand what I’m doing, but I’m paying my bills so they are happy about that. My family will sit in the audience and not laugh. But I don’t know, everyone’s different. Some
of them laugh at everything. Some of them don’t get it. They don’t see me as that guy. But of course some of them laugh. I’m a professional comedian. UW: How was your experience on Last Comic Standing? TW: I don’t know if you heard but I lost. It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever done. Even if I get to be on Conan or something, it’s still the biggest thing I’ve ever done. I got to be on at 9 o’clock at night on primetime TV for a little while. It’s like five Tonight Show’s. I didn’t win, but it impacted my career tremendously. It was fun. UW: Where is your favorite place to perform? TW: Cal State Long Beach. UW: Save that for later. We’ll see. TW: College crowds can be fun, but they can be really PC and annoying. I can’t stand that. College campuses can be awesome though. They’re not wasted. They pay attention. A lot of them come because they want to. Some are in the middle of nowhere and there’s nothing better to do. Sometimes it’s the worst when they have to be there and they get a stamp for officially participating in an on campus activity. I do schools for a living. Every school’s different. Like, I’m lucky if I get 10 minutes in LA. Here, or at that show you saw me at, it’s like 35 minutes. That was great. I don’t know if [The Improv Space] knows how great they are for letting me do that. UW: How was your experience at Cal State Northridge and did it help you at all in your comedy career? TW: What bio did you read?
UW: I think you told me. TW: I went there for two years. Then I started paying my bills. This comedian I looked up to told me to drop out of college. It was stupid. It worked out but I missed out socially. I would go to class and not talk to anybody then I would go out and hang out with a bunch of comedians in their 40s. Every night I would do that. It was weird because I didn’t hang out with anyone my age from when I was 18 to 21. UW: Who are some comedians you look up to? TW: Todd Glass is a favorite. Zack Galifinakis. I liked him before all his success. Mitch Hedberg. I like the dead comedians. UW: Have you ever been starstruck? TW: When Zack Galifinakis remembered my name it was so cool. Sarah Silverman is really sweet. She’s a good person. I meet so many douchebags in life. I don’t know why it’s like, “You’re so nice, that’s great!” because you should just be like that by default. UW: That’s cool. I agree. That’s like you. You are really nice and also very talented. TW: You need to set your bar higher. UW: What would you be doing if not comedy? TW: I’d probably be in therapy a lot. Maybe a lawyer. I don’t know. I don’t know what else I’d be happy doing. I’m kind of trapped. UW: How would you describe your comedy style? TW: Very talented. Can that be a style? UW: Sure. What’s your ultimate ambition? TW: I think it’s cool when people quote a comedian and say, “Oh, that’s a Sarah Silverman joke.” I’d like one day for people to quote me. That would make me feel special.
FROM PIXAR TO PLANETS
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JOHN CARTER DIRECTOR ANDREW STANTON SHARES A FEW WORDS JOSE COREA CONTRIBUTOR
If you’re unfamiliar with Andrew Stanton, you definitely know his work and the impact it has had in your movie going experience. Stanton has brought about over a decade’s worth of movie traditions that include Toy Story, A Bug’s Life, Finding Nemo, and, lastly, WALL-E. These contributions have introduced us to such wonderful characters such as Woody and Buzz, Nemo, and of course WALL-E—characters that have become so close to us that we consider them almost like extended family as well as part of our movie watching rituals. Now Stanton is returning with his first live-action movie, John Carter, the story of a Civil War vet transported to Mars where he finds himself prisoner to 12-foot tall green barbarians, and must plan his escape back to Earth. Stanton was recently interviewed about his upcoming movie and the differences between making an animated film and a live-action film with real actors. Here’s a redux of what went down: Q: Did you approach JC any differently than you have with an animated film? Andrew Stanton: I didn’t approach the story any differently. I think that’s the misconception about animation. We just treat every character like an actor is going to play it, and that we’re going to have a real set with real locations—we have since day one on Toy Story. Everything else is for
dramatic reasons. Q: It’s interesting you mention characters. What is the difference between working with human actors compared to characters that can be animated from a computer? AS: To me, talking with actors is really no different than talking to an animator. Animators are just shy actors. The way an actor is thinking is exactly how an animator is thinking. They’re trying to figure out, “what’s my character’s motivation? What are all the choices I have or the tools at my disposal as the character I am? Where are my marks? When do I come in, when do I exit?” Q: When it comes to the message you want to give audiences, what do you hope your movies achieve? AS: My interest has always been what’s the timeless human aspect about the character and the story. It’s about having a person that discovers that they think their purpose in life is over and was misguided to begin with, and suddenly finding where they really do fit in. I think that’s what all of us are searching for. Heck, that’s why you’re all in college, right? You’re all trying to figure out, “where do I fit in and what’s my true calling?” You can watch Andrew Stanton’s John Carter this Friday, March 9.
ELDER SCROLLS V: SKYRIM A DRUNK REVIEW
UFA CABBAGESNATCH DRUNK, NERD
Skyrim is intesne. I mean intense. I got it on opening night at midnight at gamestop wehn ift first came out. I have enjoyed it, and I have a level 52 haracter, for those of you that know what thant means. For those of you who don’t, it means for a week I had no life. There are more than a few bugs, but with a game as massive as this it is to be expected. For my secon play ( as I made a second character for this review, i decided to play
Gandalf.) oops. I mean I deceide to play as Gandalf motherfucker. I was cappin n00bs with magic all ofer the place. First, almost all the clothes make you look badass. Second, for those of you familiar with obliveion., th e magic loodks waaaaaay better. Fire sits in your fists for fireball and stucf. The story line is kinda cool, but its also a little lame. At least it ends lame. But the biggest rooul e of a review is don’t give away the ending so I wont. But its
stkupid.. there s dragons and stuff and if you play as the organization in wanted I JUST LEVELED UP!!!! Anyway, the organization from Wanted with all the assassins then you get to kill lots of people including The (spoiler alert SSHH!!) EMPEROR OF tHE WOrLD!!! Or at least the emperor of Cyrodiil. It seems like Emperors aleways be dyin and shit. I mean, Patrick Stewart is in Oblivion for literally 5 minutes. And then he gets killed
by th KKK of The Elder Scrolls universe. I may be making that up. Anyrway, Skyrim is fun as heck. Its challenging and gets a little grindy at times but stikc with it and you’ll have a great time. Especially with freiends and while drunk. Ich liebe Die Eltern Schriftrollen Fünf. I speak german. If you really don’t get it go onto google translate. Ill give you a hint. It means I love th elder scrolls five. I guess that’s not really a hint actually.
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FAMILY MATTERS
TALENTED SISTERS ROCK OUT, TALK PRINGLES FOLASHADE ALFORD
Photos
PR SPECIALIST
B
ack in August I had the pleasure of interviewing my old pal Ludwig (see volume 69 issue 3). During our interview he played me some snippet of a band he was producing. He prefaced that by saying, “These are three sisters that play every instrument, a band called Haim.” It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds of an unmixed track, a skeleton really, yet I couldn’t get them out of my head. The sibling formula isn’t a new thing, and it doesn’t always produce the best results, but Haim is so much more than three sisters. They truly are a band because they’ve mastered the meshing needed to complete one amazing product. I drove out to the valley (a place I had sworn off for reasons I can’t even remember) to meet the ladies behind the music. I arrived at their house greeted by Mama and Papa Haim and met the girls Este, Danielle, and Alana. Before we got down to the important stuff we just talked, like serious girl talk. It felt like I was meeting up with some best friends I hadn’t seen in forever. We hit it off, like, for realsies. We got some fro-yo(so bomb) and swapped stories each one crazier than the next. At times it was apparent that there was some serious sister telepathy going on as one stopped to think and another finalized the thought with words. After talking to them I saw that, yes, these were some girls I could go party at all the gay bars with, but were also musicians who really cared and put the time and energy into perfecting their craft. Their music is infectious and has the potential to resonate with anyone as it doesn’t confine itself to one genre and has themes that everyone can relate to. It was amazing talking to these ladies. Union Weekly: How long have you guys been making music? Have you been doing it together all along or separate entities? Haim: We used to play with our parents in a cover band when we were little. I was four, Danielle was seven, and Este was ten. We would just play covers of The Eagles, The Beatles, kind of just classic rock stuff. I’d say four or five years ago we started writing songs. It just made sense to lose our parents
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and make our own band and play originals. It just felt like a better route. We just started playing around for like four years and then picked up some traction. UW: So you guys play everything? All the instruments? That’s what Ludwig told me. Haim: Yeah, we don’t know how to play trumpet that’s, like, the only thing. We play like the basic stuff. We all started on drums because my dad’s a drummer which is like the best for a baby, you just put sticks in a baby’s hand and just let them go wild. Then my dad was like, ‘kay you should learn how to play piano,” which is smart because it’s the basis of all instruments, and we all kind of moved on from piano. Danielle’s calling was the guitar, Este’s calling was the bass, and my dad was like “you have to play piano so we can have this whole band perfect thing.” But I didn’t like piano so I played guitar and we kind of just went on from there. But we all picked up random stuff along the way, like Este and her ethnic musicology background. I never thought one of us would learn how to play tabla. I’m a tabla master, I also play berimbau which is this crazy Brazilian instrument, just a bunch of weird shit. I play shakuhachi which is like a Japanese flute, whatevs. Recording wise we’ve played everything with Ludwig’s help with producing but live we have a drummer. UW: Do you like working together? I mean, you guys know each other very well. Haim: I mean, I wouldn’t want to be in a band with anyone else. I know they feel the same way. I’ve been in a bands with other dudes and other girls and it doesn’t feel the same way when I look over and I see my sisters playing with me. It’s this weird comforting feeling. I wouldn’t want to write music with anyone else. I’ve tried writing songs with other people and the synergy just isn’t there. It’s not the same thing. We are basically joined at the hips. I like hanging out with my sisters more than I like hanging out with any of my friends. They’re the only people that really make me laugh, so it’s like, why wouldn’t I want to hang out with them 24/7? There are also
times when we’re all playing with each other where we know each other so well that we know what’s going to come next even if we haven’t rehearsed it. We all have the same instincts, like, weird sister telepathy. There will be a part where we’re just jamming and in one weird moment we’ll all come down at the same time. Like, “What is going on? Oh my god.” Yeah, they’re the shit. UW: How did you come to work with Ludwig on your music? Haim: Our manager met Ludwig through Ezra randomly at a party. We were playing as a trio at this club called Teddy’s at the Roosevelt. (Sister aside: No, we played Freak City. No, we knew Ludwig by then because he was at the show. I hadn’t even met Ludwig.) What happened was my manager introduced me to him, “oh, he’s like this producer.” We had just played the show and I was sweaty as balls and I meet this guy, ans I’m like, he’s kind of a babe, ok. Who am I meeting? And he opens his mouth, and he has an accent and he’s foreign so I’m down. So we start talking about music and he’s like “oh, I do the music for Community,” and I’m like “oh, I love Community, that’s so crazy.” We start talking about jamming, I was like, we jam all day every day. Every day that ends in “y” we will jam, so why don’t we, you know, get together and like, play music? Danielle and Alana you guys were like busy dancing on the dance floor, so they didn’t meet Ludwig. So I had to kind of set up this thing, we should figure something out and see what happens. So one thing lead to another and we made a plan like a week later and we all went over to his house, and played music together and had lunch. Automatically the vibe was there. Also there was the fact that our musical taste runs the gamut and his musical taste runs the gamut. We love the fact that he’s really into orchestral instruments. All the elements kinda fell together. And he’s such a babe, it’s hard not to love him. He’s dreamy. We’ll do really lame stuff like talk about fashion and he’ll be like, “I just bought these Lanvin shoes.” and I’m like, “what the fuck? You bought Lanvin shoes?” and we’ll totally bro down on Lanvin and all
CONNOR O’BRIEN PHOTO EDITOR
these, like, retarded brands. He also looks like us weirdly enough, he totally has the same long hair. We’ll be walking down the street in Silverlake and say like, “yeah, that’s my brother,” “I didn’t know you had a brother.” “He’s from Sweden, we didn’t know either.” We asked him who his father was because he looked too much like us and it’s kinda creepy that we think he’s a babe. Whatever, it works. UW: I’ve only heard a little bit of your music, so if you had to put yourself in genre or make one up what would you classify yourself as? Haim: What did we come up with? Tribal… I don’t want it to be tribal, that sounds so lame. This is so hard, I wish we had like hipster runoff. Sub-alt-flash-wavegrunge pop. I don’t know, not to sound super douchey, but there’s not really someone that comes to mind that sounds like us. I know we’re definitely pop. It’s hard because I think we’re like pop-rock but when you say that it makes me think of everything played on KROQ or Ashley Simpson, which, don’t get me wrong, I love me some Ashley Simpson. I will listen to Autobiography every day that ends in “y”. I really think there are also elements of indie, but that sounds stupid. It’s really up in the air at this point. I’d say pop, indie, alternate rock, pop-rindy, pindy, or prindy, I guess. Pop rock indie? There you go there’s your new sub genre. It sounds like Pringles, once you pop the fun don’t stop. For real, I’m down. UW: Talk to me about the music that you like or inspirations that you have. Haim: We’re like, music nerds. We love every type of music. We just grew up listening to so many different things because our parents never let us listen to pop radio. When we were in the car with both of our parents it’d be KEarth, back in the ‘90s it was like Motown and a little bit of ‘70s. Now it’s like ‘80s and 90s now. KEarth is playing Michael Jackson, now it’s fucking weird because when I was on my way to school every day it’d be like Four Tops, The Spinners, Frankie Valli, The Shirelles, Buddy Holly, and Beatles too.
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LIFE SHOULD BE A MAGIC TRIP
A REVIEW OF TERRENCE MCKENNA’S PSYCHEDELIC-INFUSED FOOD OF THE GODS LAUREN HANNIGAN CONTRIBUTOR
I
’m a “Fight the Power” kind of girl. In middle and high school, I was always in detention. For an afternoon when I was 14, I “borrowed” my grandmother’s car. And wrecked it. I got three tattoos, a nose ring, and a nipple piercing as soon as I turned 18. You could say I’m a “Fight the Power” kind of book reader too. Literature and I are intimate. I spend the majority of my time with my head in a book. If I was to end up on any TV show in the future, I imagine it will be Hoarders, because my library has taken over my entire house. A book about Henry VIII fell on my cat last week and killed it, thusly proving that I do need help for my book obsession. However, I’m about a fraction of the badass Terrence McKenna is in Food of the Gods. This book is beyond epic. But seriously, let me tell you about Food of the Gods. My brother got me this book for Christmas and immediately upon looking at the cover, I thought, “My brother got me a book about magic mushrooms for Christmas. This is multilayered in awesomeness.” Quickly flipping through the pages, I found this book isn’t just about magic mushrooms, but about literally every drug substance you could imagine and its impact on our culture.
Illustration
ROSE FEDUK UNION STAFFER
Terrence McKenna was an American philosopher, researcher, teacher, writer, and psychonaut. What is a psychonaut, you ask? Psychonauts explore the human consciousness through psychedelic substances as a form of research. Much like astronauts explore outer space, psychonauts explore the inner mind. In the 1970s, McKenna was really into psychonautics and was famous for his lectures and radical philosophy. He studied at UC Berkley and wrote novels on the topics of shamanism, I Ching, language, the evolution of civilization, and of course… psychedelics. Drugs (such as marijuana, LSD, psilocybin mushrooms, DMT, ayawaska, and ibogaine) are generally seen as a societical taboo. We don’t like to bring up the fact that these things exist (and more often than not, grow in nature without human influence). We definitely don’t bring up the fact that psychedelic drugs might not be all that evil or as laced with sin as we were taught in 9th-grade health class. McKenna approaches the topic of psychedelic substances in his works as something from the gods; he believes psychedelics have been given to us to use for the betterment of our world. McKenna gives a detailed history of
a plethora of different psychedelics and how they affect our bodies and our society as a whole. He recaps Albert Hoffman’s discovery of LSD in a beautiful tone. His stance on the importance of shamanistic traditions is completely mind blowing. He also covers topics such as monotheism, male dominance, archaic sexuality, and the impact of television and alcohol on society. He explains the science of psychedelics from a point of view, dare I say it, that is cooler than Bill Nye the Science Guy. His voice and passion are present on every single page. McKenna gives, at the end of this incredible tale, a proposal to legalize all substances in America. McKenna says, “If the words ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’ don’t include the right to experiment with your own consciousness, then the Declaration of Independence isn’t worth the hemp it was written on.” If you have ever had any interest in science, religion, psychedelic drugs, or philosophy in general, you should totally read this book. McKenna has the famous quote, “The cost of sanity in this society, is a certain level of alienation,” and I urge you to be alienated no longer. Read this book. It will recreate the way your DMT-filled brain views the world we exist in.
A WORLD GONE ORGANIC
A REVIEW OF KAMERON HURLEY’S SCI FI/FANTASY ROMP, GOD’S WAR WESLEY VERNER
UNION STAFFER, BOOKWORM
Cal State Long Beach, I write to you now as a changed man. I have just finished reading the strangest book I’ve ever come across. But the weird thing is that it’s not really that weird of a story. It’s just so ridiculously different from anything I’ve ever considered normal—ever. That book is God’s War by Kameron Hurley. The tale takes place on an Earth-like planet, possibly called Umayma. Umayma also might be the continent. It’s never explicitly stated. The two principle nations, Nasheen and Chenja, are locked in a war that has been waged for an indeterminably long time. The cause boils down to what the cause always is for stuff like this: they don’t like each other. They’ve got some real Capulet and Montague shit goin on. The world is mostly Islamic-ish, meaning that their Holy Book is called something that
sounds like “Quran,” they pray five times a day, and so on and so forth. The story follows Nyx, a female bounty hunter with a propensity for getting abducted quite frequently. How is this conducive to bounty hunting, you ask? Got me. But she somehow keeps pulling it off. Before bounty hunting, she was a Bel Dame, which is apparently a cross between the Secret Service, the CIA, the FBI, and Delta Force. As in many of my favorite books, Nyx is nothing special. She is a mediocre bounty hunter who barely ekes out a living for her crew. Her crew includes Rhys, a mediocre magician; Taite, her comm tech; Anneke, a basic shoot ‘em up type; and Khos, a shapeshifter who changes into a dog. Nyx has a weird crush on Rhys, and it leaks into everything they do. Sometimes not in a good way.
The first strange difference is the absence of machinery. Everything mechanical is replaced by “Organics.” Bugs are a big part of it. It gets kind of gross sometimes, but it also gets kind of cool. Explosives take the form of things called “bursts,” which frequently have chemical weapon payloads, like handheld mustard gas that will melt your skin off. The odd thing is that the smells from said bad things are frequently described as smelling of “jasmine, orange, and yeast.” Back to the bugs now. Magicians can control them. It gets pretty badass, and would be even more badass if Rhys was better at it than he is. But that would kind of ruin the underdog element of the book. The second odd thing is gender roles in Nasheen are completely reversed. Women court men, women have all the rights (it
briefly mentions a rally for “boys’ rights”), and yet men are still subject to a draft and get sent off to the front to die in droves. Chenja is much more conservative, even though all of their men go off to die at the front as well. Many things are not explained, which is both good and bad. It lets you come up with your own idea of how things look, but it also keeps you in the dark and forces you to use context clues. So, if said context clues do not appear until well into the part you’re reading, then you might as well be imagining purple elephants everywhere. Not really, but you get the idea. At the very least, the book is pretty compelling. You will find yourself getting extremely frustrated when things do not go according to the plan. And they rarely do.
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MY SPIDER-SENSE IS CACKLING COMEDY AND COMIC BOOKS COLLIDE AT NERDIST THEATRE CHRISTY BONHAM UNION STAFFER
T
he Nerdist Theatre is one of my favorite finds of 2012. If you’re a comic book junkie, nerd, theatre geek, or a comedy freak like me, this is the place for you. The comic book store Meltdown is awesome in itself. However, the Nerdist Theatre located inside the store is a special treat on top of that. Think of it as your mom getting your favorite cereal and discovering a free video game download inside the box. Or going to a U2 concert and then Bono invites you up on stage. Or it’s a Saturday and a TBS marathon is on TV. If you’re not a comic book lover, Meltdown has books, magazines and fun trinkets as well. My friend got a really cool book on the civil rights era and I joked with the cashier about Shia LaBeouf ’s lame new “book” of totally artsy photographs only a moderately talented actor could take. What brought me to the Nerdist Theatre was An Evening with Spidey and Friends. I was invited by a friend from improv who did the choreography for The Spidey Project: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility. A few scenes from this cult classic superhero musical were previewed at the event. From what I saw, I think The Spidey Project is going to be awesome. The music was great, the actors were committed, Peter Parker was oh-so-hot, and it was funny to boot. In addition to the musical previews, An Evening with Spidey and Friends also
Illustration
JAMES G. MORALES UNION STAFFER
featured an illusionist, a stand-up comic and an improv troupe. All were well worth the $10 I paid for my ticket. The improv troupe was my favorite act of the night. The troupe called “Murdercliff ” was sharp, witty and incredibly entertaining. It consisted of a plump brown-haired guy, a tall red-headed girl and a mousy little blond guy with glasses (Swoon. He was so cute and tiny. P.S. I have a thing for nerds). They acted out a comic book scene which was really unique and brought a lot of laughs. The stand-up comedian was very talented as well. He told a great joke about the time he met Samuel L. Jackson on the set of a Nike commercial. In short, Samuel L. Jackson is indeed a badass. The illusionist was funny too, which I’m not sure is a good or bad thing, seeing as how I was more impressed by his humor than his illusions. Amidst all the beautiful people, nice hotels, shops, and restaurants on Sunset Boulevard sits this nerdy little place for artists and nerds alike. So if you’re in the neighborhood, check out the Nerdist Theatre in Hollywood. The Spidey Project: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility will be making its West Coast premiere March 8 at Theatre Unleashed in Los Angeles. If you’re interested, get tickets (online) soon before they’re sold out!
SUIT UP, BLOWOUT
PROJECT ETHOS IS PUTTING ON AN ART/MUSIC/FASHION SHOW FOR YOU AND YOURS SARA HATAKEYAMA UNION STAFFER
Ever want to go to a real life fashion show, but you’re just waiting until you get rich, famous and Karl Lagarfeld sends you a personal invite? Well here’s your chance to preview the life you’ve always wanted. Project Ethos is hosting a fashion, music, and art show Tuesday, March 13th at the Avalon in Hollywood for LA Fashion Week. What makes this event so unique is not only the combinination of these three forces of entertainment in one space, on one night, but also, Ethos is opening it up to the public. That means us, people! Rub elbows with artists and designers, and who
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knows, there may be minor celebrities there to take pictures with (you know, people you recognize but don’t know their name, but you put the pictures on Facebook anyway). This year’s event is sure to not disappoint. There will be musical performances from LA-based Hyper Crush, not one, but two fashion shows, an art gallery, and, let’s not forget, a sponsorship from Aston Martin. You know, the fancy, fancy car company. So here’s a little background on Project Ethos: it was one of the first companies to combine fashion, music, and art together. They really strive to help emerging artists,
designers, and musicians come into the light and give them a platform to succeed. In past years they’ve had LMFAO, Bruno Mars, and Far East Movement perform— which shows that they really have an eye for emerging mainstream talent. Their fashion designers have had their clothing picked up and sold in stores, and artists get their work seen by thousands of people. Project Ethos is expanding and recently started projectethos.tv, so you can watch the show lounging on the couch, just chilling in nothing but your Snuggie. So now that you’ve heard a “Project
Ethos is so great and awesome and you should come to their event” pitch, I’m going to say, “It’s going to be one hell of a night, on a school day.” It’s 21+, so you know what that means—people will be getting their drank on. There will also be a red carpet, so if anything, here’s a night to get dressed up, get a blowout (no, that’s not something dirty), and wear some fancy shoes, but as always, doing it while keeping it classy. We don’t want any hot messes on our hands. Tickets are $20 for general admission and $50 if you want to be gangsta and go V.I.P all up in this business.
UNION WEEKLY
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HARD
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FIST IMPRESSIONS
CONTRIBUTOR
CHELSEA MAY PEREZ
DISSECT MY BRAIN
UNION STAFFER
KEVIN NG
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Disclaimer: This page is a collection of reality, diced and skewed in an attempt to be satire. Why? I don’t know. No one’s ever asked me that. What can I answer to that? Woozle Wuzzle? Uh, we are not ASI, nor do we represent the CSULB campus, or the interest of this at Fox. This has been my weekly attempt at the funny. Email me at octogirl.grun@gmail.com if you consider me the reason why Santorum will or will not win. That was my attempt at a political joke. Thank you.
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#"&&'!(%"$&)#%#(*#+&&#,!"-( M5).%)('!//%)('!//!"-(#0)%%( .!//(01#,!"-2(/!3%#.4/% M/5!+#(M&1"./%##(M5).%)# BY HOWARD BERGSTEIN Jersey Shore star Nicole Polizzi, aka “Snooki,” is now sporting a baby bump along with that infamous hair bump of hers. The suspected father is none other than Snooki’s boyfriend/Sith Lord Jionni LaValle. Although Snooki has not officially announced the pregnancy— and even denied the rumors last month, sources say that she is planning on selling the announcement (much like every other part of her soul) to US Weekly magazine. Reports are swirling that the Jersey Shore star and TV trainwreck is going to take advantage of her unfortunate circumstances by starting a line of baby products featuring, but not limited to, hair extensions, bejeweled bottles and binkies, and self-tanner made of pureed carrots which, according to the directions, “must be fed to the baby, intravenously, seven times a day to achieve that real “Snooki glow.” Snooki is also working out details to start a clothing line for babies in conjunction with Ed Hardy who is, as Snooki so eloquently states, “designer of the century.” Snooki hopes that her plans will pave the way for expecting guidettes to let their babies be the “guidette or gorilla that they were destined to be.” Snooki reportedly achieved her weight loss goal of 98 pounds three months ago— and clearly celebrated her victory by filling her vagina with as much semen as she could collect in a twenty-four hour period. Snooki and on-air BFF Jenni “JWOWW” Farley have begun filming their spin-off series about the transformation from the hard partying lifestyle as seen on Jersey Shore to a “transition into adulthood.” Which is perfect timing, since Snooki is 25 and JWOWW is 26. The
BY JWEEB JORMPH III
show will feature the two women moving into an apartment and making more responsible choices. Getting pregnant out of wedlock plays a major part in proving Snooki’s ascent into adulthood and her ability to make mature, responsible decisions. Sources say that given her mental maturity being around fifteen or sixteen years old, the soon-to-be mother will be featured as a guest on MTV’s other hit TV show about responsible decision making, Teen Mom. The labor itself will be difficult. “Snooki understands what’s going to happen,” says a close friend of the orange blob, “She knows that Italian deliveries are pretty rough. There’s going to be marinara sauce all over the delivery room. But when she sees her mini meatball, it’ll all be worth it.” Guess that’s what happens when you stick your garlic bread in the oven without first wrapping it in aluminum foil. [Editor’s Note: Baby Snooki=Wookie]
The upcoming film, John Carter, has unintentionally set in motion a catastrophic series of events. A T-800 model terminator, who you may remember as Arnold Schwarzenegger in the Terminator documentary series, has been reactivated due to an error that occurred on account of its weird Austrianaccent filter that confused “John Carter” with “John Connor.” Upon arriving to the present day (naked as the day he was engineered), the terminator was unable to locate John Carter. We met with quantum physicist and time travel expert Quentin Flerndings to find out how John Carter managed to elude the T-800. His elusiveness was quickly determined to be due to the fact that he, in Flernding’s words, “is a fictional character from a book series and an upcoming movie.” He later added, “Quite frankly, I’m annoyed and embarrassed that I even have to make this distinction. Please leap quantumly from my home.” After learning this horrible truth, the terminator was spotted malfunctioning hysterically on the streets of New York. One man on the scene spotted the breakdown and described the terminator as looking “twitchy” and “tantrum-like.” It was immediately after this episode that the terminator started a Carter-based killing spree, hunting down various Carters. At-risk youth everywhere were hit hard last week when the news of Ken “Coach Carter” Carter’s death hit the media cycle. The second in the wave of Carter murders were brothers Aaron and Nick Carter. A tragedy album was recorded in honor of the
fallen pop idols, with the lead single entitled “Aaron’s Funeral.” Former President Jimmy Carter’s annual birthday bash was supposed to be a blast. Instead it ended with a blast of another kind—a shotgun blast. The T-800, concealed in President Carter’s giant birthday cake dressed in a revealing lacy number, popped out of the cake and said, “Ha-ppy death-day, Mis-tah Pre-suh-deh.” It was then that he shot the president fatally. Most recently, during their bi-monthly bad bitch bookclub, Lynda, Helena Bonham, and Beyoncé Knowles-Carter were attacked by the terminator. Lynda Carter, using the Lasso of Truth she stole from the set of Wonder Woman, subdued the assailant. Bonham Carter then used a mixture of black magic and feminine wiles to charm the terminator into a state of submission. Finally, Beyoncé halted the T-800’s killing spree permanently when she decapitated the cyborg with her thighs. The Carter Trio, as they’ve been dubbed, have become somewhat of a sensation with a book deal, a line of action figures, and a slew of selfdefense seminars in the works. “There would have been no confusion on the Terminator’s part if only we had titled the film like the book on which it was based. John Carter of Mars would have made it pretty clear because John Connor isn’t from Mars!” said John Carter director Andrew Stanton. “It would have been a more informative, less boring movie title and, more importantly, we could have avoided all this useless bloodshed.” Seeing a silver lining, all-around shithead James Cameron has signed on to the freshly written script loosely based on the Carter killing spree titled Terminator 5: Carter Sounds Like Connor and Other Mishaps.
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