Stuffed to the Gills by Union Weekly

Everybody mambo!

Issue 73.04

Goofy -A Goofy Movie

Rose Feduk, Editor-in-Chief editorinchief@lbunion.com Marco Beltran, Managing Editor marco.union@gmail.com Connor O’Brien, Managing Editor connor.union@gmail.com

Shereen Lisa Dudar, Opinions Editor opinions@lbunion.com Sierra Patheal, Campus Editor campus@lbunion.com Michael Wood, Music Editor music@lbunion.com Roque Renteria, Entertainment Editor entertainment@lbunion.com Katie Healy, Literature Editor literature@lbunion.com Alia Sabino, Culture Editor culture@lbunion.com Molly Shannon, Food Editor food@lbunion.com God Warrior, Grunion Editor grunion@lbunion.com Gabe Ferreira, Art Director gabe.union@lbunion.com Brian Mark, Art Director brian.union@lbunion.com Truc Nguyen, Web Manager web@lbunion.com Eddie Vedder, Design Guy info@lbunion.com Assistant Editors: Alfred Pallarca, Alyssa Keyne. Contributors: Joseph Phillips, Jon Bolin, Amy Patton, Lily Gossage, Colin Sayer, Wes Verner, Joseph Estrada, Allie Kaylor, Joseph Philips, Emily Wang, Chrissy Bastian, Allan Tolkoff, Brian Cacha, Lou Skant, Janelle Sarti, Cassandra Gearhart, David Hayter, Papa Squatch, Joshua Chan, Chelsea Harris, Joshua Chan, Jacob Hall, Krinkle Krunkle, Jessica Phung, Jeanette Ramirez, Trisha Davis. 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 Union weekly, not ASI or 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. Please include name and major for all submissions. They are subject toediting 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 illustration, 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 Questions? Comments? Coolios? Beach, CA 90815. E-mail: info@lbunion.com

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Rose and the Fire Hazards Rose Feduk Editor-in-Chief What up, nerds? We’re pretty proud of ourselves this week because we managed to get a ton of new contributors, thanks to the holy power of pizza at our Open Meeting and Marco’s overwhelming charisma at the ASI Beach Team event. The amount of chairs we had jammed into our wonky little office last Tuesday was most likely a fire hazard, but so long as we keep our cigarette smokers away from all the tankards of gasoline and hairspray that we keep in the office, we need not worry about our blocked exits. Although, having so many strangers in our office does bring up the fact that for the most part, it’s not so pretty in here. Our fridge is an eyesore, our couches are too angular, our cabinets are full of old CS2 bibles from the 1800s, and I keep finding trash in the weirdest places. So maybe it’s time for a little overhaul. Our Culture Editor, Alia, asserted that

throw pillows would be a nice touch, and memories flooded into my head of all the times that my fourth-grade self ground scratches into my parents’ expensive hardwood flooring by rearranging my furniture. The spurts of inspired redecorating stemmed from watching way too many home decorating shows on HGTV and the fact that my teacher had told me that interior designers made a lot of money. As I grew older, I realized that no one wants to pay someone buckets of money to tell them that they should put some ugly lamps in their room to “add a little mood lighting,” and that my teacher kind of did have a hankering for lying to impressionable children. My preferred career choices then evolved into either becoming a rock star in the image of Powerline from A Goofy Movie or a mail carrier (mostly because I wanted to wear shorts in my career).

While, unfortunately, none of those job prospects ever came to fruition and the office is only marginally more classy than a garbage dump, I figure that we can embrace our workspace as a work in progress. While we don’t have the nicest fridge and our water cooler sometimes dispenses some funky-tasting water, we don’t really need to measure our success in how presentable the office looks to other people. And hey, at least we have a PS2. We don’t have a feature this week, which just means that there’s more content to enjoy from each individual page. And in celebration of this bounty of content, we bought a stinky three-dollar fish to photograph for the cover. Read through it, love it, hate it, and send us articles, illustrations, or just pictures of your dog. And definitely consider joining in on this mess.

OPINIONS Union Weekly—16 September 2013

Getting Off On Greek Life Trying new things and not regretting them Jessica Phung Illustrator

Jacob Hall Contributor It has always been said that curiosity killed the cat. I never really understood that expression until recently, however, when I discovered how wrong it is. This semester, I decided to actually attend at least four different fraternities’ rush events. I’m not going to lie and say I was completely indifferent, because ever since I set foot in college, I have always wondered what the booze—I mean buzz—is all about. We have seen it in all the movies that guys in fraternities are considered to be the epitome of college life. I have dabbled here and there and attended different parties and events throughout my two years of college, but I never stuck to any. To be honest, I actually had a good time at the parties I attended, which wasn’t surprising. It was certainly an interesting experience. I met some interesting people who I suppose are doing interesting things. I played beer pong enough times that I am considering going pro. I was offered a countless amount of a variety of beers for

my enjoyment. In hindsight, I’m thinking I should have probably slowly and secretly stashed a few—or a lot—in my car for my future consumption. Different names were being thrown at me left and right that I could not keep up with, possibly because of my level of intoxication. It was an overwhelming experience, but I certainly see the appeal of having a brotherhood to share the craziest times of your life with. However, as this experience progressed, I realized I was slowly putting on a facade that I could not keep up with. To say the least, I was mentally exasperated after all the parties. I was juggling different kinds of emotions from exaltedness to jolliness that I did not know my sarcastic self even had. Guys were coming from everywhere inorganically interviewing me and trying to see what I’m all about. It was really hard to keep up with their questions, especially because the whole time I was pretty much undressing them with my eyes. Several of them had the nicest arms I have ever come

in close contact with in my life. It was as if I was Charlie inside the Chocolate Penis Factory. I did a pretty good job masking my perverted intentions though…I think. At some point in the night at one of the parties, a guy asked me if he could teach me how to perform a blowjob upstairs. A true feeling of ecstasy quickly ran from my head to the veins that mattered. My obvious response would have been to ask, “How many of us are going?” To my dismay, he was simply joking; he laughed and quickly gave me a high five. From then on, my mind just started unraveling and started imagining all the hardcore bro-fucking that goes on, could go on, or should go on in these frat houses. I came up with about 20 story plots that I am planning on pitching (wink wink!) to a few gay pornographic studios. After this, I had an epiphany that I love my normal life as is. I have accomplished quite a lot on my own, and I would not have it any other way. I love

getting drunk with the circle of friends I already have. I also don’t need hundreds of acquaintances. I will survive without constantly representing three Greek letters on my chest and perhaps two on one of my shoulders. I suppose the true moral of the story is that it is time to put your curiosity to rest. Toughen up, balls out, and go for it. The former sentence does not only apply to Greek life, but to life in general. Certainly, I am not against the Greek life. In fact, I love Greece and their mythologies. I think fraternities are great. It offers people countless opportunities, but is simply not for me. Now, I can certainly say that the only Greek I need in my life is Uncle Jessie. Though this cat certainly did not die from being curious, I certainly would have died from missing out on not knowing what I wasn’t missing out on. It was seriously a life changing experience, so go out there and be curious cats!

Freshman Fallacy Three weeks into college and it doesn’t suck Jazmine West Contributor My high school days were somewhat of a cluster of unawesomeness. A few friends, a lot of sucky acquaintances and some teachers that made me question everything about the education system. I went to school, got my sub-excellent 3.8 (my school was dominated by Asians, synonymous with 4.0+s), and got the hell out every single day. I loved my education, but wasn’t too impressed with the institution. So I was very optimistic about going college—doing my own thing and actually learning about what I wanted, potentially when I wanted. Of course, I heard about college horrors—tuition most often being the object of student disdain, but I was

ok with that; there’s always a price for freedom. I heard about the professors, the good and bad, and the pretentious upperclassman and graduate students that help contribute to lower-class misery. I was prepared for anything that came my way with the overly enthusiastic attitude characteristic of the young and naïve. Three weeks into my college experience, I can say that college met my expectations in a lot of ways. My determination thus far, though, is inconclusive. I love the people here, and I love the lively campus atmosphere that I didn’t expect at a commuter school. My professors have been far less than impressive, but that may be influenced

by my lack of gusto at 7:30 in the morning (screw everyone who starts class at 10am and has no Friday classes). I am overwhelmed by homework, which I brought upon myself by declaring as a Pre-Biology major. Thankfully, I’m still enjoying it because I have found people and groups on campus that already make the less-than-ideal aspects worth-while—something I couldn’t seem to find in high school. “Self-discovery” is supposedly the key in college, and as cliché as that sounds, I find it exciting. I’m discovering how I study best, my shockingly low tolerance for all-nighters, and whom I get along with. I already know how

to state my opinion and stand up for myself, thanks to a small population of pushy and obnoxious people that insist on imposing their intolerant beliefs on others. (I heard having a backbone is useful in something called the real world.) My past three weeks of college have already been 10 times better than my four years at high school. And yes, I have found that college sucks somewhat – but for everything I dislike, there is something

future. I’ve heard it only gets better from and utterly horrible, CSULB. Go Beach!

Union Weekly—16 September 2013 OPINIONS

Milo Goes To Court A contributor’s chaotic day in the courthouse Milo Emelio Stevens Contributor Let me tell you an interesting fact. In America today, a country known for mass incarceration and an overwhelming justice system, a quarter of people have criminal records. Millions of Americans are walking around today with records that can bar them from employment. Everything from littering to premeditated murder is on these records, allowing employers and the general public to see the most minor deviations from normative behavior from every single citizen of the United States. Unfortunately for one out of four American adults, there are dark stains on these records, and many of them do not deserve it. I very nearly had one of those black marks put on my record recently. I was lucky enough to see the inside of the new George Deukmejian Courthouse in Long Beach, but of course, it wasn’t on the best of terms. What, do you think I go around looking at post-modern architectural monstrosities in my free time? Besides looking like a good and proper setting to a dystopian movie, it was a massively confusing mess for all involved. My experience involved sitting in a room with about 100 other defendants

being charged with misdemeanors, ranging from petty theft to public drunkenness to driving without a license. The judge was obviously inexperienced and overwhelmed, the prosecutors were frantically buzzing about, each tasked with about a dozen cases each, most of them resulting in plea bargains, and the bailiff struggled to keep the courtroom quiet (and keep sleeping defendants awake) throughout the eight-hour ordeal. When I approached the stand with a plea deal in hand that luckily struck the misdemeanor charge down to an infraction (an infraction is more like a parking ticket than it is a crime; while technically a criminal charge, it does not show up on private background checks), I had the pleasure of listening to my judge fire off rapid fire legalese about my case. Luckily, I’ve watched enough Law and Order to pretend to understand what the judge was saying. I was in there for a minor charge, violating the overnight park closure in Signal Hill, but the judge seemed to think that I was in there for operating a business without a license. I lost plenty of faith in the legal system when I

You’re On My Heart Like a Tattoo Don’t drink and ink Alfred Pallarca Assistant Editor It seems that the government is trying its hardest to make its people stray away from the issues that really matter. Washington DC is planning to implement a law that gives people a 24-hour waiting period before getting a tattoo or a piercing. Though I can think of multitudes of other issues that Washington DC should be focusing on, I think this is not a bad idea at all. With the conservative nature of our country’s hiring processes, potential employees are being turned away from jobs because of the absurd ink they are rocking all over their body. I have seen countless tattoos people should not have and they probably only got them because of a drunken night. In fact, there have been many times when my friends and I enjoyed a bit too much alcohol and thought we were badass enough to spontaneously get a tattoo. Once, we figured it would be cool to tattoo different kinds of sushi

on our sleeves. We were serious about it, but, thank god, we never pulled through. None of us were sober enough to even walk or drive to a tattoo parlor. I understand how this idea could piss people off; people certainly hate too much government invasion into their private lives. However, I do think the government exists to stop us from certain stupidities. For example, a country like Iceland preapproves a name given to a newborn for many reasons. Though it might sound strict, you will not see anyone named North West walking around Iceland. Tattoos are a permanent thing, and a drunken night should not define the rest of anyone’s life. A 24-hour waiting period will not stop anyone from getting a tattoo. It will merely stop ratchet drunkies from permanently tattooing “Boner Garage” over their vaginas.

heard that and even more faith in my friend who accepted the charge when asked if it was correct by the judge. After another hour of sorting out the typo that nearly got me charged with something I most definitely did not do, I accepted the plea bargain and pled no contest to the charge against me. After eight hours of rapid-fire bullshit and seeing dozens of people plead guilty to minor violations, I was on my way out with an order to pay a small fine—a simple slap on the wrist. If the justice system seeks to live by its name, to promote justice within society, it must recognize that not all violations of the law are criminal in nature. Without a guilty mind, one that acknowledges the conscious breaking of a law to harm another person or society at large, is it fair to penalize these people as if they exist within the same category? Law must recognize that many deviations are done out of ignorance, or with the absence of harm to anyone. We have a category for these types of deviations from the law already: they are called infractions, and the tide is turning in regard to them.

The overwhelmed criminal justice system of Los Angeles County has recently changed many misdemeanor charges that carry the heavy implication of a criminal record to infractions. In fact, nearly a hundred of such charges were dropped to the status of a mere infraction in order to move these people more quickly through the justice system. This saves the courts money and reduces the burdens on judges, who typically put little to no effort into these cases, as most of the accused pay a fine or perform community service and then continue to live their lives. When we begin to acknowledge that not all violations of the law are necessarily criminal in nature, when we begin to acknowledge that the cost to society is too high to criminalize these violations, and when we begin to realize that not every person who runs afoul of the law deserves a criminal record, we may begin to see a more just justice system. The optimist in me tells me that we are seeing the dawn of this new justice system today.

CAMPUS

Union Weekly—16 September 2013

The Story of CSULB Shotokan Karate Claim your place in history by joining our club Words by David Hayter Contributor Photos by Chelsea Harris Contributor When I joined the Shotokan Karate Club, I had no idea about the history and people that helped bring this club to our campus. We are the second oldest sports club on campus and have been active since 1968. The story of karate stretches across centuries and continents. I’m a history major and we like to write, so I’ll do my best to give you the condensed version. The roots of our club can be traced back to Okinawa, where karate originated hundreds of years ago. Karate came about as a mixture of Chinese and Okinawan martial arts and was designed to be effective against bare-handed and armed (usually sword-wielding) opponents by using the body as a weapon. Gichin Funakoshi created the Shotokan style of karate and brought the Okinawan art to Japan in the first half of the 20th century. He established the first university karate

club at Waseda University in Tokyo. It was there that Tsutomu Ohshima began studying karate as a college student. He eventually became captain of the club and then came to America to continue his studies while spreading karate across the United States through the creation of Shotokan Karate of America (SKA). The CSULB Shotokan Karate Club was established in 1961 by Caylor Adkins (one of Mr. Ohshima’s pupils). After a brief period of inactivity, Mr. Adkins restarted the club with the help of Don DePree, who eventually took over as the head instructor. It was during this time that our current head instructor Samir Abboud began studying karate and became captain of the CSULB club. Mr. DePree ran the club from 1970 until 1992, when Mr. Abboud was entrusted with continuing the legacy created by Mr. Funakoshi.

The story of how this club came to CSULB is particularly amazing because it shows that dedicated students can achieve extraordinary things. Many of the aforementioned instructors started out as college students who wanted to do something more with their lives. Although they have varied backgrounds, they all worked and trained hard and decided to help pass it on for the benefit of the next generation. The CSULB Shotokan Karate Club is known for its strong spirit and dedication to training. The club is carrying on tradition by emphasizing the importance of developing well rounded individuals. It may seem like a contradiction, but we train in karate in order to avoid fighting. Aside from wanting to inflict pain on someone, most fights occur when there is a breakdown in communication. Being able to prevent a fight before it happens shows strong discipline and promotes the ideals that karate was founded upon. I’ve been in the club for about two years now and am currently serving as the Vice President. In that time, I’ve learned a lot about myself and met a lot of good people. At CSULB, we are fortunate enough to have dedicated instructors and alumni who give their time, actively helping new students strengthen their bodies, minds, and spirits. When you join CSULB Shotokan Karate, you really becoming part of an extended family with branches all over the world. We operate as a part of SKA and still benefit from Mr. Ohshima’s instruction. Wanting to get into shape brought me to the club; constant improvement of the self is what keeps me going. Our instructors never settle for less than our best and I try to hold myself to the same standard. Drop by if you want to train with us! You can find our training schedule by searching for the CSULB Shotokan Karate online.

Sierra Patheal Campus Editor Come be Supported! On Monday, September 16th, CSULB’s Student Services Festival will be on the lawn next to the Speaker’s Platform from 11:30am ’til 1pm. The event is sponsored by the STARS/SOAR First Year Experience, the goal of which is to ease the freshman transition and to help all students succeed. If you’re looking for a job, are nervous about midterms, or are just curious what services are available to you as a student, drop on by! These services are here to help you, but they can’t do that if you don’t ask. Be Animated with Anime Club CSULB has an awesome anime club. They discuss anime, art, and culture, put on field trips, and even show anime episodes regularly. The meetings are from 7pm ’til 10pm in USU 205, and they’re a blast. It’s free and open to everyone, students or not, so bring your friends and have fun! Underground Music Society Are you folks ready to rock!? Okay, that was totally cheesy but for the more musically inclined among us, the Underground Music Society may be a perfect fit for you. Since starting in the USU courtyard last year without official school sanction, they have made huge strides, organizing shows on campus, reaching out to CSULB’s musicians, and finally getting the official campus recognition that they deserve. Every Thursday at 3:30, you can still find them in the USU courtyard outside Sbarro’s planning shows, chit-chatting and spreading information about great bands and local shows. If you’re new to this campus or even if you’ve been here for a while but still haven’t had a chance to appreciate the vast underground music scene down here, I highly recommend sitting in on a meeting and absorbing the information about the local scene being thrown around. And if you play an instrument but can’t seem to find a band that suits you, all the better; this has also served as a great place for musicians to get together and form their own projects. So grab that rusty stringed guitar you’ve been neglecting and head on over to the next meeting. It’s well worth your time.

Union Weekly—16 September 2013

Queering “Queer” Queer Studies forum Sierra Patheal Campus Editor “Queer,” panelist Robert Prior mused, “is definitely not straight, isn’t it?” On the one hand, this definition encompasses the eventual conclusions drawn at the forum “Are You Queer?”, which was hosted by CSULB’s Department of Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies, the Long Beach PressTelegram, Out in the 562, and The Center of Long Beach on Saturday, September 14th. On the other hand, however, it brushes only at the surface of the discussion, as evinced by the ensuing two-hour discussion concerning the uses, connotations, implications, intentions, and ultimate definition of the word. The panelists were as diverse as they were fascinating, composed of queeridentifying speakers from many walks of life who were all willing to share their experiences and histories in an effort to come to a truer understanding of the

word queer and the communities who have adopted it. Speakers included Pat “Cacahuate” Manuel (a local amateur boxer and the founder of BuffButch.Com), Robert A. Prior (a director, playwright, and performer with a focus on the queer aesthetic), Danny Perez (a member of CSULB GSA and the facilitator of Queer Chat at CSULB), Dr. Carina Karapetian Giorgi (a sociology professor here on campus) and Dr. Adriana di Bartolo (the director of the Queer Resource Center at Claremont Collge). As I introduce them here, though, I feel disingenuous giving them such fleeting descriptions; throughout the panel, they shared so many personal experiences, anecdotes, and truths that the parenthetical descriptions here seem utterly inadequate. I have no hope of capturing the vivacity, personality, and individuality of the panelists within the space of this article, so

The Worst Bathrooms on Campus Where not to poop in peace Krinkle Krunkle Contributor Toilets used to be sacred to me. They held the power of privacy, allowing for self-reflection and unbridled butt bravery. Now that I go to CSULB, though, my toilet dreams have gone down the toilet. The first floor of the USU has the worst toilets on campus. When you enter, you have a choice to go to the right or the left. Don’t go right; that whole section smells like sewage. The left side has locks that don’t work, so the doors open with the slightest butt-gust. The handicap stall is haunted. There is a square compartment on the wall behind your head that opens sometimes and breathes dusty queefs down your neck. On the first floor of the UTC building, the men’s bathroom has a huge window at eye level that’s always open where you can see cars driving in front of it. A positive thing about it is that you can lock the door, but it comes at the price of your peace of mind. Every time I go in there I feel as though someone is going to run up and scare me. It gets really creepy when it’s late at night and you go in to pee, because it feels like you’re being watched or filmed.

In probably the least-populated place on campus, the 2nd Education Building behind the library houses the most uncomfortable bathrooms on campus. The girls’ restroom, instead of opening to the normal setting of stalls and sinks, opens to a little closet lit by a single light bulb. Inside the closet is a solitary, presumably decades-old couch and nothing else. I can only imagine the impossible number of grimy, sweaty, and desperate acts that took place there over the years. Though our editors didn’t dare inspect it for cum stains, I can only hope that nothing worse went down on that stinky couch. Somewhere, hidden away in the dark recesses of the CSULB campus, is the perfect restroom. It is draped in velvet and lit in that dressing-room way that makes you believe that dress you’re trying on actually looks good on you, and in the back there is a golden toilet wreathed by fresh-picked roses waiting just for me. However, I have yet to find it—and when I do, I sure as hell am not going to tell you where it is!

I will suffice to say that I was surprised and humbled by their openness and veracity and that the sense of community I felt during the forum definitely could not have been created if the panelists hadn’t been as wonderful as they were. By the end of the panel, I was both more and less certain of the definition of the term queer. Although I was much more versed in what the word means in different settings and from different people, I was also far less convinced that it actually needs a definition. One of the things I found most attractive about the term was the fact that it is not, according to the panelists, externally defined. Queer means what those self-identifying as queer define it to mean, and its definition can differ radically from person to person. As a person who has frequently stood on the sideline at LGBTIQ events, afraid of being “not queer enough” to participate, the forum was especially interesting to me as an invitation, so to speak, to the discussion. The panelists—and the audience—approached the discussion from many disciplines and backgrounds, addressing the fact that this exploration is one that transcends boundaries and concerns everyone on some level, because it relates, at its heart, to the human experience. The word queer as presented

CAMPUS

by the panel was a self-identifier not tied to a list of qualifications or requirements, but instead defined individually by every person who chooses to adopt it. As panelist Pat Miguel explained, “In addition to deconstructing things, ‘queer’ has actually allowed me to construct an identity.” Queer was presented as a tool to step outside preconceived boundaries and form one’s own sense of self separate from societal and cultural expectations of what one is supposed to do or feel. The event was organized by WGSS professor Jennifer Reed as part of a continuing effort to expand the representation and inclusion of LGBTIQ voices on the CSULB campus, including the recent creation of the 18-unit Queer Studies minor. The forum was the first of a hopefully monthly series of panel discussions on LGBTIQ topics at CSULB; October’s discussion will, if all goes well in the planning stages, focus on Long Beach’s LGBTIQ history. “In some ways,” event co-organizer Phillip Zonko stated, “Long Beach was a trendsetter before New York.” So keep your eyes peeled for information about that forum in October, and in the meantime, consider attending a Queer Studies event on campus! They’re awesome.

CULTURE

Union Weekly—16 September 2013

“Call him a ‘puta scorpion’”

The passionate connection that couples share during the honeymoon stage of their relationship doesn’t last forever. Recent studies show that after the tenth week of intercourse, things start to head south. It is essential to be creative in bed to keep the spark sparkling. Valentines day or his birthday are not the only days to spice things up in bed. As a modern woman, it is your job to take charge in bed and kill the bedroom boredom. You have 365 (366 on a good year) days to try alternative things and make your man’s “last lap” more impactful than

69 Ways to Make Him SCREAM!

1. Do something to trigger a childhood trauma 2. Tell him he needs to get circumcised 3. Confess your obsession of erectile implants 4. Taze him 5. “Accidentally” drop a toaster while he’s in the bathtub 6. Inform him that Tupac is really dead 7. Play over his saved games 8. Defriend all of his exes on Facebook 9. Put a scorpion in his pants 11. Call him a “puta scorpion” 12. Melt his action figures 13. Demand him to cosign all your student loans 14. Accuse of him being an anti-Semite 17. Show him photoshopped photos of your future children 18. Constantly talk to him in a baby voice

“Tell him you’re pregnant, and mean it”

19. Put sugar in his gas tank 20. “Forget” to take birth control 21. Cover his car with bologna 23. Something about catheters 24. Ruin his online gaming stats 25. Share his colonoscopy video on Facebook 27. Ask him to be your “accountability” partner 28. Tell him you’re pregnant and mean it 29. Plan your wedding on your second date 32. Make him watch cyst-popping videos 33. Take him chastity belt shopping 34. Stab him with a spork 35. Make him listen to the new Miley Cyrus album 36. Tell him you want to role play after watching an episode of Dog Whisperer 37. Delete all his porn

Union Weekly—16 September 2013

CULTURE

84% of men secretly love catheters 5 out of 2 marine biologists agree that orgasms are orgasmic 67% of all statistics are false

“Introduce Liam Neeson as your dad”

“Surprise him by shaving your head”

38. Burn his paycheck 39. Say “I love you” 40. Beautify his bachelor pad 42. Comment on his dad being a “major DILF” 43. Watch a David Lynch film 44. Tell him you’re the new real housewife 35. Inform him GTA V is delayed 46. Break his knee caps 47. Convert to Scientology 49. Ask him to buy you tampons 50. Name his penis “Delilah” 51. Surprise him by shaving your head 52. Remind him that Ben Affleck is playing Batman 53. Scatter STD’s all over the house 54. Waterboard him

54. Introduce Liam Neeson as your dad 55. Tell him you found God, let him in, and now you’re pregnant 56. Ask if you can chomp on his pizza 58. Only buy him leopard print button-up shirts 59. Tell him that your last boyfriend never wet the bed 60. Sell his dog on eBay 61. Tell his mom that she’s fat 62. Yell in his ear while he’s sleeping 63. Throw his phone into the ocean and boast that your love is stronger than technology 64. Use teeth 66. Sit in a corner and sigh, “ if only it was bigger” 67. Overwrite all his TiVo-ed basketball with Glee and Pretty Little Liars 68. Two words—brazilian wax 69. Make him read the Union Weekly

ENTERTAINMENT

Union Weekly—16 September 2013

A Rockstar Retrospective Four hombres look back on countless hours of hedonistic anarchy Ladies and gentlemen, but mainly gamers... This Tuesday, Rockstar Games will release the highly anticipated next installment to their Grand Theft Auto series. Friendless teenagers are shitting themselves with excitement all over the country. I was once one of those teenagers, so I figured that since almost everyone

grew up playing a Rockstar Game, it would only be appropriate that we pay tribute to Sam and Dan Houser with this awesome retrospective. A couple of other dudes and I have gotten together and compiled this article in order to help you revisit your adolescence. Hopefully, some of these writings will bring back pleasant

L.A. Noire The year is 1947, post-war Los Angeles. You are a newly promoted detective thrown into the concrete jungle—patrolling the streets ain’t easy, but someone’s got to do it. The recently expanded infrastructure takes you to all corners of this city, from the glitz all the way to the ghetto. They call you “The Street-Sweeper” because you’re cleaning up the streets, one thug at a time. This is L.A. Noire. Rockstar’s ode to the hard-boiled detective hit me hard during my freshman year of college. Like the rest of Rockstar’s catalog, L.A. Noire’s intertextuality fulfilled my pop cultural needs—and my need for shoot outs. And like the rest of Rockstar’s catalog, the meticulous attention to detail in the recreation of Los Angeles is by far one of the greatest maps that I have ever

memories of eating pizza and killing virtual hookers on a lonely Friday night. Or unintentionally evoke painful memories of eating pizza and killing hookers on a lonely Friday night. Regardless of whichever memory is brought up we hope you enjoy these pieces. And remember: Hillary Clinton is an evil person.

Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor

played in a video game. Colt Phelps is the main protagonist of the video game. He is a straight-shooter, a decorated war hero trying to adjust to life after World War II. A family man with two kids, he quickly becomes the hero that the people of Los Angeles need. However, as he digs deeper into the city, his morals become corrupted and he starts to make friends in all the wrong places. Gangsters want him dead, fellow police officers want him discharged, and drugged up jazz-singing dames just want him. The most important aspect of L.A. Noire is its story line. Borrowing from Roman Polanski’s 1972 classic Chinatown, L.A. Noire takes the player into Los Angeles’ underworld, filled with dirty politicians and post-traumatic veterans

hooked on prescription heroin peddled by pseudoscientific psychologists. The story of Phelps is a complex one that demonstrates the masterful skill of Rockstar’s writing staff. L.A. Noire has so much style that I believe it should be inducted into the film noir hall of fame (if such an institution exists). It’s this kind of postwar romanticism that gives America its rich, cultural heritage and its proclivity for the darker side of human nature. I suggest you give this game a chance if you haven’t already. I’m sure you’ll be surprised when you realize Rockstar can make law enforcing more attractive than law breaking.

Grand Theft Auto: Vice City

Michael Wood Music Editor

Rockstar gets a lot of shit from, well, everyone except gamers. Annoying, moralizing and self-righteous “family values” activists like to point towards the depravity of their games as an example of a bad influence on America’s youth and a sign of this nation’s moral decay. I like to counter this with the assertion that graphic video games show the maturity of the medium, and allow for substantially more enriching storytelling than say, Super Mario Brothers. I mean, let’s set the game-play aside for a second and look at GTA Vice City as a cultural artifact. First off, the locale of sun-soaked Miami Beach (err, uh, I mean Vice City) in the 1980s is a perfect setting for a story about drugs, murder,

Ray Liotta of Goodfellas fame), deals with gangs of criminals with realistic ambitions and authentic conflicts, which allows you to play as a sort of Machiavellian gun for hire while in pursuit of your criminal empire. No one said that crime was pretty! Overall, with the massive amount of attention paid to the setting, a compelling story line, and incredibly addictive gameplay, GTA Vice City showed a whole lot of us that we can expect more from video games. We can expect plot! We can expect style! We can dare to expect art instead of a mere distraction! And that’s something that family values activists and politicians will never understand. There is art to be found in this medium and GTA Vice City exemplifies this simple fact.

gangs and corruption. Within the story line, there are subtle references to Reagan’s wars in Central America during the time period, the conservative boom in the political sphere, and almost every facet of American pop culture during that period. Even the radio stations have licensed songs (costs a pretty penny to get that) from the era, everything from early hip hop to new wave to hair metal. That sort of attention to detail really pays off in the grand scheme of the story being told. It feels like a larger-than-life crime drama at almost every point. I mean, the character you play as is an Italian hitman who starts from scratch in a new city with the intention of running the whole town. Your character, Tommy Vercetti (voiced by

Union Weekly—16 September 2013

ENTERTAINMENT

Red Dead Redemption

Nick Ebert Contributor

Since I’m a huge fan of the Western genre, my expectations were pretty high when I learned Rockstar was developing Red Dead Redemption. Upon release, all of those expectations were blown out of the water. Hailed by IGN as “nothing less than the next step for the open world genre,” Red Dead Redemption was a huge leap forward for Rockstar in terms of mechanics, gameplay, and storytelling. Red Dead Redemption could’ve easily been “Grand Theft Horse,” and indeed the game does borrow a fair amount from its more popular older brother. Despite this, Red Dead stands on its own, and through the use of dynamic events and absolutely gorgeous art direction, it manages to be, in my opinion, a better and more immersive game than Grand Theft Auto IV. This is

intelligent guys with passion and love for the things that they do. While Grand Theft Auto IV seemed to be Rockstar’s first foray into open world games on current hardware, Red Dead is a more confident, complete experience. The controls handle more fluidly, the character animations are better, and the locations are sometimes so strikingly beautiful that I often found myself ignoring missions to trot around on my horse exploring. With Rockstar’s claims that they are using Grand Theft Auto V to push current hardware to its absolute limits, it’s fair to assume we can expect an even higher standard of immersion across an even bigger map, but probably with fewer mountain lions. How can real life hope to compete?

not only in terms of gaming dynamics, but also in terms of the construction of the story line and environment. Like Grand Theft Auto IV, Red Dead encompasses many themes and styles from Hollywood films and foreign classics. There are references from John Ford to Sam Peckinpah to Sergio Leone to Sergio Corbucci. As you are riding through a red desert underneath a scorching red sun, you can’t help but feel that this is strangely familiar to a spaghetti western. One of the towns is named Rio Bravo, after the Howard Hawks movie. This just goes to show how much research meticulousness is involved when the guys at Rockstar devote time and energy to a project. The Houser Brothers are like the Coen Brothers of video games. They are two

The Warriors

Lou Skant Contributor

I was in middle school when The Warriors came out to play. I had no idea it was based on a cult classic. As soon as I started playing, I was enamored by the awesome brawling mechanisms that Rockstar employed. This was unlike any other fighting game I had ever played. It was like an updated version of Streets of Rage, but with more fluid controls. If you were like me, then every Saturday you would head to the arcade and play the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles smash ’em up game. The Warriors is the adult version of that. The missions are so badass. You can tag graffiti, you can stab someone with a knife or broken glass bottle, and you can take meth. Ironically, the meth makes you healthier. But let me be more specific; the fights and brawls

The Warriors was a nice break from Grand Theft Auto because The Warriors emphasized the importance of brotherhood. Most of the Grand Theft Auto games (with the exception of V) have focused on the rise of an individual and his journey through the criminal underworld. The Warriors, on the other hand, is about nine dudes just trying to survive. They knew they would not become the kings of New York like the Riffs, but they stick together because they are family. And that’s all they have. The Warriors are just like us. A bunch of misguided, ambitionless youths with no hopes or prospects. We are the products of our environments. It takes a game like The Warriors, and a renegade company like Rockstar, to help us understand that.

are like orgies. There’s so many people on screen at once that you don’t know where your arm begins and were someone’s leg ends. It can be nauseating at times, but a pleasurable nausea. After completing the game, I finally saw Walter Hill’s The Warriors. The game was surprisingly loyal to the movie in terms of story line and characters. Shit, Rockstar even hired the original actors to reprise their roles as voices. This may not seem like a big deal, but remember that the Reservoir Dogs video game didn’t use the original actors and that game sucked. Rockstar did add their own subplots and character interactions to give The Warriors a larger mythology and more complexity, which only made me appreciate both the game and movie more.

MUSIC

Union Weekly—16 September 2013

The Garden: Indie Nightmares

Bowling For Soup: Pop Punk’s Dead!

Avicii: “Wake Me Up”

Joshua Chan Contributor

Michael Wood Music Editor

Marco Beltran Feature Editor

I was unfortunate to be sober when I first saw their set, because all they did was play loud and scream in order to feed the mosh pit in front of them. I say they played loud because I have no idea what the music sounded like. There might have been a rhythm, but I can’t be too sure. There were also no identifiable lyrics in any of their songs. On top of that the vocalist kept asking control to raise the vocals, as if his screaming was not loud enough to disorient the crowd. They served the bare minimal function of a band, which is to get people moving, but that was the only thing they did right. Luckily for me none of their songs lasted longer than two minutes. MTVHive.com did a story on them about how they have a habit of writing 15-second songs. They quote the band saying, “We walk quickly. We dress quickly. We work quickly. We record quickly,” which sounds like a horrible excuse for being too lazy to write a three-minute song. The article goes into detail on how their music is written specifically for only them to understand. That is a horrible way to write music. It’s like writing a song in Latin. Nobody speaks Latin! Music belongs to the audience just as much as it belongs to the artist. Creating music in such a selfish way will not resonate with audiences and it won’t help shape the industry. It is obvious to say the indie scene is where the musical talent of tomorrow gets its start, but tomorrow’s talent will be really shitty if the indie scene isn’t taken care of. And it isn’t just the music that is horrible. Why are there bands spitting into the crowd? At one point the drummer from The Garden stood up and spat a big wad of saliva into the mosh pit. Why would anyone spit on the people who make their livelihood possible? If I spit on my boss at work, I would be fired in a hot minute. Today’s pop music is filled with arrogant and self-absorbed faces, who have teams of people write music for them. One would hope that the indie scene is filled with real artists who are honestly striving to create great music without their self-image in the way.

When I was in elementary school, I didn’t think there was anyone cooler than these guys. Of course, this was around the time that “A Hangover You Don’t Deserve” came out and you couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing “1985,” an infectious pop punk tune where Bowling for Soup makes references to Reagan-era stars whose glory days predate the earliest memories of the band’s own fan-base. To be honest, the appeal must’ve been getting the album for my birthday but my parents warning me not to listen to certain tracks they deemed inappropriate for me. Naturally, I went straight for those crude tracks and satisfied my youthful desire for songs with curse words and juvenile “Fuck the world” attitudes. That was around the turn of the millennium, a dozen years have passed and many things have changed. George Bush started invading any country with a name he couldn’t pronounce on the first try in a vain attempt to find “nukular” weapons, the economy collapsed into what feels like the first depression of the modern era, and the teenage pop scene has somehow survived the scourges of emo, screamo, and a resurgence of country pop. Unfortunately, Bowling for Soup doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. This entire album feels as if they are sonically stuck in the early 2000s, and save for a couple departures where they mention more recent buzzwords (one of the lyrics goes something like this;“You’re gluten-free, I still like Taco Bell””, it is lyrically stuck in high school. Besides their one major hit, they really weren’t even that remarkable when their style of youthful pop punk was dominant. Why they continue with this formula long after that particular iteration of the genre has been buried is beyond me. Overall, with their derivative sound, themes only a 13-year -old can relate to and mediocre instrumentation, they fit right in with the other bands left in the dustbin of musical history. Alright Bowling for Soup, don’t let the door hit you on the way out and say hi to Creed and Sum 41 for me, will ya?

This song and I have a complicated relationship. A part of me likes parts of this song. The lyrics are moderately inspiring, which, while not something I look for in a song, works. It’s kind of nice to have coherent motivational words set to guitar strumming. I really like Aloe Blacc’s voice. The first few times I heard it, I found the dance-y beats by Avicii scattered throughout engrossing and I dreaded the idea of humming it every time I woke up. It’s catchy and a little fun to try to dance to it. But then after those first few listens, something clicks in your brain and it sits there and festers slowly, putrefying and pulsing until it bursts through the front of your skull. At first it feels like something is off. Then, just as you’re about to tell yourself that it’s not that bad, it hits you: this song is kind of stupid. It sound a lot like that sped up version of “Cotton-eyed Joe” by the Rednex. Just watch video of people dancing to “Cotton-eyed Joe” and “Wake me Up,” and prove me right. How else would you dance to it? Probably attempting to do some slow-motion dancing followed by stomping? There has to be stomping. It’s two different songs that are competing for supremacy within those four minutes and 33 seconds, two different styles with different speeds and there isn’t an attempt to bridge the gap between the two. No dance beats while the guitar is going, no gentle strumming against the dance beat portion. The worst part about that song is that it’s barely starting to gain some plays on the radio. If this trend continues, and more people start falling for the initial draw, in a few month’s time “Cotton-eyed Joe” will regain popularity. Is that what you all want? For everyone to like “Cotton-eyed Joe” again?

Union Weekly—16 September 2013 MUSIC

The Clash: The Clash Hits Back

Earth, Wind and Fire: Janelle Monae: Now, Then and Forever Electric Lady

Michael Wood Music Editor

Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor

Rose Feduk Editor-in-Chief

Yeah, it’s pretty lame to review an album made up of songs that I already know. But I have nothing but positive things to say for The Clash’s latest release, The Clash Hits Back. The Only Band That Matters is still out there releasing more and more compilations of their extensive career; yet most of them are simple greatest hits albums that fail to show anything we didn’t already know about the band or even give new listeners a concise glance into the works of the artist. Luckily, The Clash Hits Back does just that; it is an amazing crash course in the diverse music of the Clash. I would highly recommend it for a new listener or for anyone who feels like they don’t know as much about The Clash as they’d like to. With a sonic summary of every stage of The Clash’s history, it serves as the perfect introduction, showing the many stripes of the band. From the classic “London Calling” to the high energy punk of “Brand New Cadillac”,”to the more dancelike and experimental “Straight to Hell,” it is one of those albums that will teach you a lot about the band, without the commitment of buying their entire discography. Of course, for the truly obsessive Clash fans among us, there is definitely something to be seen. A few remixes, particularly of “London Calling” and “Rock the Casbah,” stood out to me. They weren’t tacky rehashings of classic hits; they were meticulously done instudio to alter the levels, particularly of the vocals and the drums, in order to make those songs sound fuller and cleaner. While some love the dirty sound of The Clash, on these particular songs which have entered the pop music canon, expertly-done editing goes a long way to making it sound much better in my opinion.

Earth, Wind and Fire released their 19th studio album this month and I must say I am pleased. Normally, when any musician releases this many albums, I become quite skeptical. How can you be good for this many years? Luckily, these cats deliver and deliver well. Now, Then and Forever has all that you would expect from EW&F, but with a hint of modern R&B. The album begins with a gospel-inspired track, and as the track listing progresses, we find influences from funk, golden age R&B, soul, and even jazz. The percussion has the trademark sound but is now accompanied by a post-funk synthesizer. The combination first took me by surprise, but after the second and third listen was very enjoyable and harmonious. It has all the magic from their previous and classic works but with a contemporary sound that should be palatable to modernday R&B lovers. Several songs are catchier than others, but as a whole, this album is solid. There is not one song on here that clearly stands out from the others. As a courtesy, I will list some of my favorite songs from the album. In no particular order, they are: “Love Is Law,” “Got To Be Love” and my personal favorite “Dance Floor.” “Dance Floor” is the best example of classic and contemporary fusion. This album is a sleeper. Unless you are a diehard EW&F fan, this will pass you by. It is unlikely that this album will be heralded as one of the greatest funk albums of all time. However, this album will soon be a rare gem. An album that distinguishes the true funk aficionados from the passive listener. I give this album full praise and would recommend it to anyone who is sick of the R&B monotony marketed to us today.

The most interesting thing about Janelle Monae is not just that she makes impeccable style choices that defy gender expectations, her perfectly coifed hair, or her aggressively infectious energy on stage. What makes Monae a remarkable artist is that she has created an entire concept for her persona that spans multiple albums. Her most recent work, Electric Lady, is the most mature realization yet of her genre-defying idea. It evokes the same psychcadelic funk sound and Metropolisesque theme that the ArchAndroid introduced, but on a level that not only feels cinematic, but causes the listener to become immersed in the world that Monae has created. And the songs aren’t half bad either. High energy standouts include “Q.U.E.E.N.,” “Electric Lady,” and “Dance Apocalyptic,” while slower (but still perfectly good) standouts like “Sally Ride,” are also worth a listen. Monae peppers this world with guests like Erykah Badu, Prince, and Esperanza Spalding. As an added bonus, Monae ties together songs with radio DJ segments, as if the listener were flipping through stations in an eerily Orwellian universe. If you buy the album, it’s worth looking through the liner notes to see a short explanation of what inspired each song. For example, “Dance Apocalyptic” is “inspired by Michael Jackson’s glistening jheri curl in Thriller.” In the end, the album feels like the product of someone who has a strong understanding of how to take all the aesthetics, ideas, and sounds that they admire and turn them into something completely new. While the rest of the album isn’t as danceable as the first half promises, you get some nicer slow songs that have some introspective moments. With two solid albums under her belt, Electric Lady leaves the listener in awe of how Monae can take her talent even further in the future.

LITERATURE

Union Weekly—16 September 2013

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