I’m having relationship problems: the girl I’m dating has more issues than the Union!
Issue 73.08
Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor 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 Alfred Pallarca, Athletics Editor Alyssa Keyne, Athletics Editor God Warrior, Grunion Editor grunion@lbunion.com Gabe Ferreira, Art Director gabe.union@gmail.com Brian Mark, Art Director brian.union@gmail.com Truc Nguyen, Web Manager web@lbunion.com Eddie Vee, Graphic Designer info@lbunion.com Cover Photo by Connor O’Brien Assistant Editors: Sam Winchester. Contributors: Joshua Chan, Leah Sakas, Jay Jenkins, Jessica Phung, Rebecca Komathy, Alex Berman, Christopher Vickery, Jennifer Cierra, Kristen Oduca, Anna Pineda, Karen Wells, Zack Falcon, Delon Villanueva, Jacky Linares, Nate Phung, Jane Lu. 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 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 Questions? Comments? Kool-aids? Beach, CA 90815. E-mail: info@lbunion.com
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Rose and the Challenge of Eating Rose Feduk Editor-in-Chief This week’s feature details our little toe-dip into the world of competitive eating. Well, I mean we essentially tortured ourselves with food for the second time this semester. However, there is a distinct difference between the feature for our “Gas Station Gluttony” issue and this week’s. Competitive eating challenges require skill, strategy, a definite biological advantage, and an amount of stamina that’s on par with most top athletes. And maybe a little recklessness. Being a 5’2” shrimp that can barely finish a slice and a half of pizza, I’m definitely not cut out for it. Besides my complete physical inability, the fact that competitive eating is pretty gross to begin with is also a pretty significant deterrent. You’re stuffing corn dogs into your mouth at a rate that’s faster than you can chew, and in between all the flying spittle and partially moist crumbs you’re probably trying to think back to the point
in your life when you decided that this is the dream. Basically, competitive eating is not my thing, I’d rather dive into the world of competitive cooking. I deluded myself into thinking that I was a little chef in the making after watching a non-stop marathon of the original Japanese version of Iron Chef. My friend Thy and I decided that we could start a competition of our own, using secret ingredients that would be decided based on whatever I had in the fridge at the time. Thy’s brother, An, was also an occasional competitor, and brought a daredevil edge to the competition with his unlikely pairings of ingredients: things like marshmallow Peeps marinated in a diet Pepsi bath. We would make dish after dish, crafting full course meals that rivaled the complexity of the meals of the Iron Chefs themselves. The only difference was that our food was basically inedible.
Mustard coated bread, soggy frozen fruits sprinkled with crushed sugary cereal, and questionable uses of tortillas are just a few examples of our travesties against food. The worst part about the whole thing is that after the time had been called, we would rush outside to find my parents, sit them down at the dining room table, and present our dishes in hopes that they would pick a winner. With hands folded behind our backs, we would explain the ingredients of each dish, “This is a peanut butter sandwich with a slice of cheddar cheese. I added Fritos for crunch.” My parents would politely say how delicious everything looked as they wrinkled their foreheads and wracked their brains frantically for an excuse to leave. If judging God-awful meals made by elementary school kids without crushing their confidence isn’t a real challenge, I don’t know what is.
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OPINIONS Union Weekly—14 October 2013
The Cult of Heroism
Your idols are just as fucked up as you are Michael Wood Music Editor Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor
There are seven billion people on this planet, and most of them aren’t worth the physical matter that goes into a functioning human body. But for some strange reason, people in power will have you believe that some people are more important than others. Athletes, musicians, leaders, activists, Andy Warhol—most of them are absolutely worthless and contribute no more to society than the average basement dweller. Take Lance Armstrong, for example. Ever since I was a wee lad, people told me I should look up to the man with one testicle. After numerous Tour De France wins and millions of overpriced yellow rubber bracelets, the man was ingrained in our collective consciousness as a national hero. However, as is all too common with heroes, we found a disturbing fact
that precipitated his fall from grace. He was juicin’! Just like Barry Bonds, Mark McGuire, and OJ “The Juice” Simpson, Lance Armstrong gleefully shoved needles full of performance enhancing drugs into his cancer-stricken body. I also can’t stand musicians. Don’t get me wrong, I love music, but there is nothing worse than an arrogant rockstar or rapper. I wanna bring up Axl Rose. Besides being an annoying crybaby, seriously, if you’re listening to Guns n’ Roses in 2013, you’re so 2000 and late. And let us not forget Kanye West, the modern day music messiah and meme master. What in the hell does a picture of Spongebob with “Jimmy Kimmel face” superimposed on it mean anyway? So many people show loyalty to celebrities who are downright loony and that, quite honestly, concerns me. Immaturity
and temper tantrums shouldn’t be lauded. That shit ain’t trill. There’s a lesson to be learned in all of this. Our heroes are just as fucked up, morally ambiguous, and just as full of bullshit as the rest of us. Like Bob Dylan said, “Don’t follow leaders—watch your parking meters.” Speaking of leaders, fuck the political leaders we’re taught to adore. If you’re a Republican, you’re probably in love the B-movie demagogue we endured by the name of Reagan. Besides his absolutely horrendous wars in Central America, killing nuns and all of that, his economic policy ended up precipitating the crash of 2008. Thanks Reagan! Thanks deregulation! But wait, you Democrats aren’t off the hook. I see you guys talking about your new “New Deal” and shit like
Malala Makes Her Mark
Nobel Prize nominee promotes progress in the Middle East Shereen Lisa Dudar Opinions Editor
I am not the type of person to follow the Nobel Peace Prize candidates and actually be rooting for someone to win, but I definitely jumped on the Malala bandwagon. As a Middle EasternAmerican and a Muslim, I know of all the injustices against women in the Middle East and I understand how fortunate I am to have grown up in California. Going to school was never a right I was deprived of, and saying what I wanted never led to a lifethreatening situation. Malala Yousafzi is a completely stunning 16-year-old. She has managed to make her voice heard across the world in a way that was taken seriously and has instilled change. Instead of staying at home, frightened for her life and fading into oblivion, she continued to push the boundaries. She has stood before the United Nations, she’s met the Obamas, she’s written a book, and she is the youngest person to ever be nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. No, she didn’t win the Peace Prize and a lot of people believed she should have, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she has and continues to raise awareness
about women’s rights and everyone’s right to education. Although Malala is working toward a better world, what she’s doing is bigger than her. She represents an idea—the idea that anyone, of any age, can identify injustice and promote change. The winner of the prestigious award was the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons. Although there was disappointment over Malala’s loss, it was undisputable that her actions were incredibly brave. She won over the hearts of people all over the world and that’s far more valuable. Of course, the work the OPCW has accomplished cannot be denied. They have played watchdog in overseeing the destruction of Syria’s chemical arsenal. Besides this recent mission, they have been actively eliminating the use of chemical weapons for 16 years now. Malala is only 16 herself, so she has a lifetime to accomplish even more outstanding work. I understand why Malala didn’t win this year; however, I know her actions are being acknowledged and I look forward to the Nobel Peace Prize-worthy work she will continue to accomplish.
that. Let me remind you, FDR was the man who forcefully locked up Japanese people in internment camps. You can’t talk about the struggle of the working man without bringing up Fred Korematsu! Point being, anyone who desires celebrity is obviously a fucked up individual. Anyone who needs to spread their influence that much doesn’t have anything to say, and anyone who seeks great power does not have your best interests at heart. Be grateful that most people don’t stab you on their way to work. People have it rough out there; the daily grind is absolutely killing them. The most heroic people are the ones who go unnoticed. I mean, a lot of times, simply surviving and being a good person through it all is worthy of commendation.
Union Weekly—14 October 2013
CULTURE
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Back to the Future Fashion Trends Ain’t no school like the old school Photos by Sam Winchester Assistant Editor Trends come and go, and eventually come back. Who dictates what becomes a trend and what doesn’t can be highly debated, whether it be the higher Us Weekly, or the masses themselves through the powers of social media. Well, regardless of how these trends come about, we have to deal with them being a part of our everyday lives for the better (i.e. skinny ties) or for the worse (i.e. shuttershades). I’m not gonna lie; I truly enjoy seeing old trends rise back up and make their way back into mainstream culture. To pay homage to these recently resurfaced trends, I asked (more like coerced) a couple of our editors to model said trends, and talk about either their disdain or love of them. Whether you choose to partake in these trends is all up to you, but whatever you do, make sure to have fun and make them your own.
’60s
Flower Headbands Alia Sabino Culture Editor
Being a hippie at heart, I was absolutely enthralled by flower headbands becoming a popular trend again. I have always been fascinated by the Woodstock era and the whole peace, love, and unity culture thing. Now, no longer are they just props to a hippie Halloween costume, but they are actually being worn in casual settings, whether it be school or just going out with friends. And although I do love this trend very much (and have at least three flower headbands myself) I do believe that it’s gotten a little bit out of hand. People have seemed to deem flower headbands as one of the official uniforms for events for all types of music festivals. The pictures of Coachella this year featured girls upon girls wearing the said trend, and my recent trip to Nocturnal Wonderland (a massive electronic music festival) consisted of the same girls with the flower headbands, cropped tops and high-waisted shorts. But despite this trend being overused, it still is a favorite of mine just because I love nature and anything that resembles it. And my point is, wear whatever makes you happy, regardless of what other people think.
’70s
Double Buns Shereen Dudar Opinions Editor
Fashion has always looked to the past for inspiration and added a modern twist. A hairstyle that has been resurrected from the past is double hair buns. It was supposedly pioneered in the ’90s by edgy chicks, like Gwen Stefani and Björk, but even that was a nod to the Star Wars Princess Leia buns of the late ’70s. Fast-forward to 2013 and it’s now a chic look for the likes of Kylie Jenner and Miley Cyrus. I was bombarded by the look when I went to a FIDLAR show recently. I felt like I was surrounded by hipster aliens. I instantly disregarded it as a stupid trend that needed to stop, but when it comes to concert settings, it beats having someone else’s hair in your face. I actually agreed to take on this trend so that I could accurately bash it, but as I sit here and type, these two buns atop my head are the perfect style for working. And it was fairly convenient to throw together. Taking the time to make tight buns looks really cute, but it also works well as quickly thrown together messy buns. Just avoid sticking your tongue out and winking—or do that; it makes a good Halloween costume.
’90s
Flannel Around the Waist Molly Shannon Food Editor
A growing fashion trend I’ve noticed nowadays is definitely flannel, a trend born out of the ’90s grunge era. Yes, they came back into style around 2007, but what I’m talking about is a completely new revelation in the plaid-print world—the girls of today have been tying flannels around their waists. I had seen this happen with my own eyes when about a hundred girls at FYF this year were sporting the new look, and then again when I stepped into Brandy Melville for the first and last time. I can’t hold in my feelings any longer— I really don’t understand this look. In fact, I hate it! The typical girl will wear a plain shirt with ripped up shorts or jeans and combat boots, complete with a stupid flannel wrapped around her waist. First off, it looks bulky, and secondly, the waist-jacket’s only purpose is for “style”; girls don’t even wear their flannels for warmth anymore. One experience that particularly outraged me was when I walked by a mannequin outside a Hollister in the mall. The mannequin was wearing a flannel the proper way, while yet another flannel was tied around the waist! This is madness!! We need to put this trend to a silent end.
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CAMPUS
Union Weekly—14 October 2013
Two Centuries of Relevance RGRLL Conference to explore German dramatist Georg Büchner’s life, writings, and continuing importance
“Eyes Open” on Autism Christopher Vickery Secretary of Disability Affairs
Sierra Patheal Campus Editor “Peace to the cottages! War on the palaces!” So begins Georg Büchner’s “The Hessian Land Courier” (“Der Hessische Landbote”). Büchner, a political rebel and radical dramatist from the early nineteenth century, will be recognized and reexamined at CSULB on October 17th through 19th as the focus of CSULB’s Department of Romance, German, and Russian Languages and Literatures’ annual conference, “Wanted? Georg Büchner 1813-2013,” which is free to everyone and will be held in the Karl Anatol Center (in the Academic Services building). “When we organize the student conferences,” German professor Jeffrey High explains, “we are always looking for a subject the students support enthusiastically, a subject young people believe is relevant, resonant, and worthy of recognition and debate.”
German actor Klaus Kinski as Woyzeck Werner Herzog in 1979.
The conference will consist of more than stuffy academics reading dry papers in monotone drawls, too. “I’m really excited about the conference,” German teaching associate and conference organizer Adeline Bauder says, “because there are so many different aspects. We have two film screenings, a [student] theatre production, and readings from both undergraduates and graduate students.” Each of these events speaks to the RGRLL department’s efforts to include all of its students in the conference and to present various aspects so there’s something for everyone to enjoy. The conference will begin with a showing of Georg C. Klaren’s Wozzeck (1947)—a cinematographic adaptation of Büchner’s last drama, Woyzeck—on Thursday night. Wozzeck was filmed in East Germany soon after WWII, which makes it especially interesting. “DEFA [a library of East German films at the University of Massachusetts] gave us the opportunity to screen it,” Adeline says, “and we’re really excited.” Also exciting is the student production of Woyzeck, which will be held on Friday night in the basement of the Theatre Department. “The space is very intimate,” play director and German teaching associate Matt Straus says. “There’s been a strong effort to make this—I won’t say a Brechtian production, but I would say a production that would please Bertolt Brecht, which is to say, dropping in and out of character, onstage costume changes, music being played, [and] a good drink session beforehand.” In contrast to Werner Herzog’s classic film interpretation of Woyzeck (1979)— which will be shown Saturday—Matt’s
class has made an effort to emphasize the comedic aspects of the play. “On the first night, when we read it and every student laughed in class—done!” Matt explains. “It speaks for itself. How dare I try to twist arms and make this really serious? And the more we look, Büchner puts it right in the text. There’s the doctor’s line—‘Think! Who would ever get worked up over a human being? A human being?’ That’s like the thesis of the entire drama. I think that scene right there is everything we’re doing—horrible inhumanity and yet extreme humor.” Büchner’s other works don’t pull any punches, either. “‘The Hessian Land Courier’ lists complaints that should be read before the US House of Representatives daily to remind representatives of their routine acts of betrayal against the people they ostensibly represent,” Dr. High says—something that may be all the more true with our current lack of government; “Leonce and Lena exposes the privileged as selfish, lazy fools”; and “Danton’s Death delivers the motto no human being should ever forget: ‘The republic is in danger!’” If you’re debating about whether or not to come, Dr. High says, “It is almost always the most reluctant participants who have their minds blown at RGRLL conferences. Every year we see students who clearly planned to attend a session and beat a hasty retreat (justified by any implausible excuse) but stay for two or three days and ultimately personally close the Anatol Center after vacuuming.” Give it a chance—maybe this year, that student will be you!
49ers, this installment of “Eyes Open” gives kudos to Nicole Smith and all her hard work during the first meeting of Autism Ally on October 3rd and the education that came from it. This week, I’d like to address autism and what you as students should be aware of. The word “autism” today usually refers to five complex brain-based disorders within the Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). According to the CDC, about 1 in every 88 children is diagnosed with ASD. Though there is no single cause for autism, it is four times more likely to affect males than females. Autism also does not favor one racial, ethnic, or social group, either. What is most important to understand is, if a child has autism it is not the parent’s fault—nor is it the child’s. This sometimes goes unrecognized during childhood, however, and the Autism Society reports that 19% of children with autism had been physically abused and 16.6% had been sexually abused. A survey of over 1500 individuals with autism given by the Autism Society found that a total of 35% in total had been the targeted victims of crimes within their families, and a majority of these families believed in physical punishment as a way to teach a child with autism how to behave. However, the common signs and characteristics of autism—difficulty communicating verbally and non-verbally, struggling with specific developmental mile stones, and relating to others (and thinking and behaving accordingly)—make physical punishment especially ineffective for children with ASD. Project Forethought finds it imperative that everyone take proactive steps for autism treatment. In honor of Disability Awareness Month and in support of Autism Ally, we stress that students with children heed this crucial parenting tip: Do not “wait and see.” Monitor a child’s developmental milestones with a licensed physician in order for that child to have preemptive action in the case they are diagnosed with ASD. We also encourage you as a campus community to support autism awareness by getting involved with Autism Ally, whose goal is to educate and socially integrate autistic peers with their able-bodied peers. Make an effort to put yourself in an ADS individual’s shoes and realize if it was you, you’d want someone fighting for you no matter the cost. If you’d like more information, visit the DSS offices or check out http://www. cdc.gov/ncbddd/autism/facts.html. Have a wonderful week, Long Beach!
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ENTERTAINMENT
Union Weekly—14 October 2013
A Place Where Sin is In A review of the hidden theatrical gem in Long Beach Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor
Jami Johnson Photographer
Before I begin with my review of sin, I would like to focus on the venue. The Garage Theatre located on 7th street and Long Beach Boulevard is one of the most unconventional and interesting theatres I have ever rolled into. From outside I would have never guessed that the building could host any production inside. I will admit, I was a bit skeptical about the place. However, all my negative assumptions vanished as soon as I entered. The first thing I noticed was a lovely girl working at the box office. She was friendly and kept the line moving quickly. Once it was my turn to pick up my tickets, I realized that not only was she lovely, she was beautiful. I should have gotten her name. I have to remember to start doing things like that. Oh well, I’ll do it next time. After I passed the box office, I entered the stage and seating area. To my surprise, there was no barrier separating the stage from the seating. I thought this would hurt the production but it only complimented the performances. The other plays I have seen took place on an
elevated stage. This created a psychological barrier between the cast and the attendees. But what gave sin its charm was the venue’s intimacy. I have never been so engrossed when watching an acting performance. When you are seated two feet away from incredible actors, you become part of the production. There were times during the play that I wanted to respond to some of the questions asked by the characters. I literally bit my tongue in order to prevent myself from appearing a jackass. That has never happened before. The operators of the Garage Theatre are incredibly resourceful people. They have managed to provide the thirty or so patrons with so much from not so much. It is community-based events like these that entertain locals and pique their interest in theatre. I commend the people who own and operate the Garage Theatre for their services. And I encourage anyone in the Long Beach area to visit the theatre and attend one of their productions. It is truly a magnificent and remarkable experience.
allowed more room for the actors to navigate and perform and it also focused the audience’s eyes on the characters. An unconventional approach, but like Woody Allen said, “whatever works”. And, boy, did this work well. The director masterfully managed each performance magnificently and provided each actor with adequate freedom to experiment with various characterizations. I felt the synergy between each of the actors. It was as if the actors were not only feeding off of themselves but off of the audience as well. Captivating performances by all. Christine Cummings is a superb leading lady. This woman has an amazing presence both on and off the stage. Cummings is a unique beauty that radiates with personality similar to the
of Katharine Hepburn. Given that her character was Yale educated, I would not be surprised if Hepburn had an indirect influence on her performance. Simply put, sin at the Garage Theatre is one of the most powerful artistic experiences I have witnessed. Never have I ever felt so immersed in an ocean of emotions. Once again I applaud the cast and crew of sin, and implore my readership to attend a show as soon as possible. The Garage Theatre proves that there are powerful players in Long Beach that deserve our undivided attention.
Searching for Humanity A powerful production about human nature and a quest about personal redemption Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor The play sin, written by Wendy Macleod (film buffs will recognize this name as the writer of the 1997 cult classic The House of Yes) and directed by Amy Louise Sebelius, is a play set in San Francisco during the 1980s. the play centers around Avery (played by Christine Cummings), a thirtyone-year-old traffic reporter who is played by the closest people in her life. As the title suggests, the supporting characters are representative of the seven deadly sins. However, with the addition of Avery, that accounts for eight; making this a work that involves a flawed character achieving an epiphany and personal growth. Avery has had a series of unfortunate events build on one another. She has recently separated form her brilliant but self destructed alcoholic husband, her
brother’s reckless lifestyle has left him in a hospital bed fighting an unwinnable battle against AIDs, and her occupation is put on the line with recent managerial changes in her workplace. These challenges are exacerbated by Avery’s pride. Not only that, an earthquake ravages San Francisco and Avery must salvage what little she has left of her damaged relationships. She must rebuild both physically and psychologically. It was potent following Avery through her tribulations involving love and death. It was also a pleasure. One notable thing was the set design. Minimalism at its finest. I’m sure Samuel Beckett would be proud. All jokes aside, the set was astonishing. It consisted solely of a few wooden blocks and ceiling props rigged with a pulley system. This
sin will be playing at the Garage Theatre now through November 2nd. Tickets are $20 Opening/Closing, $18 General, $15 Students/Seniors/Teachers.
Union Weekly—14 October 2013
Speaking with the Sinners The Union sits down with the cast of sin UW: This venue is a little unconventional; what sort of ambiance or type of audience reactions do you get with a smaller, more intimate venue like this? Clayton: You definitely hear everything. If anyone says anything—if they’re like, “Oh my goodness!” we hear it, and then we feed off of that. Joe: Yeah, exactly. It’s like the gratification or the emotional response you get you get is really there. Matt: And then being out on stage you have to always be in character. There’s no running to the back and then gossiping with all your friends. Clayton: And it’ll catch us, because sometimes we’ll have somebody—like for instance, you were right here, right next to me. If you were to go, “Oh, shit!” right next to me, I’d have to be like, “Okay, this person is literally right here; I can’t respond to that.” It is a bit of a challenge, but it’s fun, too. UW: [looking at Christine] Did you have any particular influences for Avery? Were there any characters or anything? Christine: No characters, but my mom is the oldest of eight girls, so many of my aunts were Avery’s [Christine’s character’s] age in the ’80s, and I remember them very fondly—my family is all very eccentric in different ways, and they have the good and the bad in them—so I kind of pulled from a couple of my different family members for her. I wanted to keep her pretty grounded. All of these guys had characters where they could kind of stretch the boundaries; I
The Foreigner Review Sierra Patheal Campus Editor I consider myself a fairly shy person. I hate calling people on the phone, have to take three deep breaths before I enter someone’s office, and was absolutely petrified while pitching my first article idea to the Union Weekly a year or so ago. I am happy to say, however, that I have never in my life felt as socially inept or anthrophobic as the main character of The Foreigner, Charlie (played by Greg Barnett), professes to be as the play begins. Conversations, Charlie admits, send him into a state of panic as he waits, terrified, to be expected to speak again. And indeed,
wanted to keep Avery as real as possible, so any influences I had were actually people I knew and had associated with and love. UW: Were the tears real? Christine: Yes. UW: God, that got to me. You and your roommate in the car—and when you ate the candy bar—there was so much fucking humanity there. I loved it. Christine: That was the biggest challenge—that scared me, when I saw the script and saw the journey she had to go on, because it had to be real. In a space like this, you can’t fake it. And what I do is, I pull from my fellow actors. I pull from their energy; I look at them, I listen to them, and they help me—they’re the ones who pull me along. UW: Definitely. Throughout the production, when things were going on, I wanted to speak out—I was so engrossed. I was going to ask each one of you—this is a time piece set in the ’80s; may I ask if there were any characters or other pieces of ’80s pop culture you took influence from? Joe: Mine was actually more personal experience—myself at my worst—than fictional people, except for visually and physically for the character design. The influence I get for my intentions comes from exaggerated versions of myself at my worst—very exaggerated, of course. Clayton: Yeah, likewise—definitely pulling a lot from that. It’s like you read the lines and it’s like, “Okay, I know this guy’s
his life to date in England reflects this inability to function socially; his wife has cheated on him with some 23 other men, his job as a science fiction editor sequesters him in a corner all day, and his friend Froggy—a British demolitions expert on contract in the States with the US Army— has to resort to bringing him along to a little town outside of Atlanta, Georgia on one of his jobs in an effort to cheer him up. Hilarity ensues as Charlie admits his phobia to Froggy, who, in an effort to help, tells the owner of the bed and breakfast where Charlie will be staying that Charlie is a foreigner—location classified, of course—whose real name is “Char-oohlie” and who speaks and understands no English. After some initial concern—“He ain’t a Communist, are he?” / “What? No! He’s got a stack of credit cards yea high!”— the community accepts Charlie with open arms, never realizing that all the sordid secrets they discuss in the living room are most definitely not going unheard. All is not as comedic as it seems at first in this little Georgian town, either. The
intentions basically,” and you feel it out. What’s great about this, with everyone here, is that you feel so much of that energy with the person you’re reading with. [Looks at Christine, laughs.] A lot of it is her and us responding to her and what she’s doing. So I just went, “Okay, this guy is not a good person. Definitely an asshole; real estate guy, just wants to make money.” Joe: I kind of had to do the opposite, because I at first only saw the bad in my character, and it took me a while, but when I discovered the vulnerability and the weaknesses, it helped me a lot. Clayton: Kind of finding empathy in your own character. Joe: There are moments, though...where I connect with everybody; I think that’s the best part about the play, is that someone’s humanity peeks out at every moment, and that’s what feeds Avery’s humanity. UW: During the production and rehearsals, were there any setbacks? Has everything been running smoothly? Christine: Ah, no. [Laughs] This intricate pulley system that’s up there [gestures to the set above her head]—that took a long time. Sometimes they were getting stuck; one night the phone was stuck and kind of just hung out here for the rest of the play. Matt: The socks get stuck, too. Clayton: Yeah—the house is on fire, but our socks are here! Christine: The earthquake was difficult to do, and the effects of the death… We spent a lot of time on those effects.
drama of the too-early consummation of the local preacher’s upcoming marriage (and soon-to-be visible effects thereof) and the mystery of the apples discarded after one bite pale under deeper currents of racism and intolerance in the town, heralded in by the dark comment, “Last time I saw me a foreigner, he was wrigglin’ on the end of my bayonet!” and culminating in one of the most shocking, intense moments I’ve seen on stage. Comedy frequently dances on top of deeper issues, and in this case, the actual issues came onstage, cloaked in something I hope I never see again. The climax of The Foreigner will stay with me for a long while—but so will Charlie’s response to it, which turned the stereotypes on their heads and created an uproariously funny ending made all the more satisfying by its utter necessity. The most amazing part of the play, for me, was the way the more openminded characters—the owner of the bed and breakfast, for instance, as well as the preacher’s fiancée—professed to
ENTERTAINMENT
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We had the chance to speak with: Christine Cummings Avery Joe Howells Man Clayton Steacker Date Matt Stevens Jason UW: Well, on game night, it came off wonderfully. And talk about resourcefulness! At first I was trying to figure the set out, but then I started looking at each one of the actors, and then I saw that each one of you was pulling strings, and I was like, “Holy crap, that’s amazing!” Christine: Puppeteers everywhere! Joe: The designer’s really talented. Every show he’s done here has been really creative. Matt: Yeah. Everything that’s on the set to everything in the caves—it’s all one person. It’s a lot of work, and he did a great job. UW: And onstage, when you have the blocks as the set—it’s this awesome minimalism that really focused my attention on the acting. So I was wondering: does the set work to your advantage? Christine: I love the minimalist approach, because it allows me to focus on what I need to do. But I also love that our director gave us freedom to bend reality and jump up on blocks and go all over the place. She stripped all of those rules— the realism—out of it and said we could use the space any way we wanted. Once that was established, we were really able to play. I liked that—a bar really can be a bunch of blocks in a row and people just accept it, and I think the audience does. I think you just accept that “They’re in a car and their backs are to each other.” I think it really works.
understand Charlie; indeed, it seemed he was better understood when he wasn’t using his words than when he was trying to communicate through them. “Ain’t it mysterious,” the bed-and-breakfast owner laughed at one point, “the way I can read your brain thoughts?” Although this periodically resulted in rather hilarious interpretations, including something I think of as “Little Red Riding Hood and the Carnivorous Tractor,” the underlying message was clear: if you want to understand someone, you can, and the first step is deciding to open your mind and do so—but if you decide not to, you most absolutely won’t. The Foreigner illustrates both sides of this spectrum of understanding, and as in most comedies, both sides get what’s coming to them. Highly recommended! The Foreigner will be playing at the Long Beach Playhouse now through October 26th. Tickets are $14 for students and $24 for general admission.
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MUSIC
Union Weekly—14 October 2013
Songwriting from the Womb
Studio time with a new up and coming band, The Bailen Brothers Michael Wood Music Editor When I walked into the KBeach studio to catch a glimpse of this group, I had no idea what to expect. I was told that they were the next big thing and it seemed like someone was doing me a favor to introduce me to them and put me in the position where I was able to claim I was into the band gracing the airwaves before anyone else. I caught the end of the Bailen Brothers set for KBeach and I was definitely intrigued. Their neat little three piece group was composed of a man with a percussion box, another with a guitar and another with a keyboard, all singing great harmonies reminiscent of classic rock. I asked them if they’d come in and play a set in our offices and they were completely receptive to the idea. After a short set of three songs, they were on their way, clearly only stopping shortly on our campus while on tour all around the country. Their sound was incredibly
folksy but not in a Woody Guthrie way. Think more Neil Young or Steely Dan, or if you’re looking for something more modern, Mumford & Sons. So needless to say, I was surprised to find a truly funky and polished sound they exhibited online when I looked them up after the interview. With an added horn section and slick production values, I felt like they were cheating themselves out of their real talent—bare bones instrumentals combined with flawless harmonies that added a pop flavoring to their sound. The polish was a bit too much for me, it seemed like they were complicating something that had a lot of beauty in its simplicity. As it turns out, in their recent tour of the west coast, they’ve been keeping with their stripped down instrumentation, surely winning many fans over who likely wouldn’t be drawn to the polished studio sound. Some folks dig the simple vibe!
I was glad to talk to them after their short little set, simply because their whole demeanor just emitted the optimism of rising stars. They went over their whole history with me, the twin brothers Daniel and David had been writing music for years. “We got our start songwriting in the womb, it was a lot of screaming back in those days.” said David. Besides being the first pre-natal hardcore band, their list of achievements is starting to build up; they are recognized as the best college
band in the Northeast region by Grammy U and they were even named one of the top 5 bands in Manhattan by WNYC. No doubt, they are a band to keep an eye on out there. After a couple years refining their sound in a studio in Florence, Italy, they have enhanced their craft remarkably, leaving them nowhere to go but up in the crazy world of music.
Union Weekly—14 October 2013
MUSIC
13
Music That Changed Your Life! As an awkward adolescent band geek trombone player navigating through the minefields of assholes and fake-ass people in high school, I had a developed taste for the emotional, angry, gritty brand of punk rock juxtaposed with, well, ska. Ska and punk rock blended together to inspire further tastes in music, but it wasn’t until I was in college that I realized how much raw truth and angst could be expressed in the sonic power of these styles. It all happened when I rediscovered The Arrogant Sons of Bitches and their album Three Cheers for Disappointment studio. ASoB broke up shortly after releasing the album. However, the album is pure gold, a piece of genius, and a ska-punk masterpiece. Additionally, it is available for free (and
legal) download through lead singer/rhythm guitarist Jeff Rosenstock’s DIY-music label Quote Unquote Records, through which he released his solo work and music from his new band, Bomb the Music Industry. Rosenstock’s unique writing and performing style shines with the sonic energy of the band throughout the album— from angry, angsty, pissed-the-fuck-off dissertations in his lyrics to catchy, singalong hooks; the edge in Rosenstock’s voice to spot-on ringing vocal harmonies provided by keyboardist J.T. Turret; the fat sound of the horns and the fast angry sounds of the rhythm section. The overall impression is an album that is one huge fuzzball explosion of angst and discontent. To this day, I listen to the entire album
daily. I mean, the angst-anthems such as the hard-hitting “So Let’s Go Nowhere” (with the crux of the song: “EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS FALLING APART”) and “I’ve Got Enemies in High Places”; the groovy “Rocketrocketrocketship”; and “Disappointment at the Taco Bell,” featuring David McWane of Boston ska-punk band Big D and the Kids Table, paired with anti-love songs such as “Piss Off”, “Have Fun Rotting By Yourself”, and “Last on My List”, connects to my inner frustrations— universal frustrations such as having friends take advantage of you, breaking up, and the realization of the general futility of life. There is not a single weak song on the album, and every song is striking, hard-hitting and raw.
ABBA Molly Shannon Food Editor
Fuck Muriel’s Wedding. Fuck Mamma Mia! Gimme gimme gimme ONE week, just ONE week, and I can DREAM up a more meaningful musical than those two unworthy pieces of mediocrity, all in the name of honoring one of the greatest bands in the history of everything: ABBA. What is ABBA, you may ask? First of all, go throw yourself off a cliff. Second of all, ABBA is the Swedish quartet that you most likely remember for “Dancing Queen”, and they also just happened to change my life. The Swedish superstars completely took over pop music in the ‘70s into the early ‘80s, and I can’t thank them enough for their existence. Why is it that America’s first great pop-music group was actually
borrowed from Sweden? I don’t know. But I digress. Along with The Beatles, The Wailers, and Blue Oyster Cult, ABBA was one of the many bands that my musicaficionado dad would force my family and I to listen to on long family road trips, but ABBA was one of the few bands that all of us could actually agree on. And ever since then, ABBA has provided us with many precious memories. I remember in the third grade, getting lost on the way to an Angels’ game, Dad was driving and extremely frustrated because we were lost and on the verge of being late to the game. ABBA’s “I Have a Dream” was drifting on in the background. Just as my dad was about to hit his boiling
point-- “I belieeeeeeeeve......” (the majestic halo-ed “A” statue was in our sight) “......in angels”, and thus the worldly sitar plucking continued. In another instance, a close friend and I sang along to “Waterloo”. And lest we forget the infamous scene on Malcolm in the Middle in which Dewey lip-synced “Fernando” with his elderly baby sitter, which my sister and I would follow by recreating it in our backyard. I could literally write essays to express just how much I love ABBA, but I’ll keep it short. They have been a huge inspiration for so many musicians since their initial success in the ‘70s, and have been an even bigger inspiration for me. Thank you for the music, ABBA.
TALKING HEADS Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor
Music is a strange thing. It’s almost impossible to describe what music is. The best definition I can come up with is “the most harmonious and pleasant arrangement of sounds”. Every time I refer to music it’s metaphorical. It is impossible to enumerate the importance and value of music. Its influence is intangible. Therefore, trying to measure the impact of 77 by Talking Heads is a task destined for failure. However, I was born a loser, so another loss shan’t affect me severely. I first heard this record during my
junior year of high school. I don’t remember much of my experience, except that I hated everything and everyone. Hearing this album not only validated my indignation, it also captured my frustration with the opposite sex perfectly. Being an awkward misanthrope, there is no better person to idolize than David Byrne. The best example of his awkwardness is heard on “Uh-Oh Love Comes To Town”. In order to empower my readership, I suggest that you all go online and look up the lyrics. If this does not capture your high
school experience, then I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you. The album is a fusion of proto-punk, world beat, Americana & funk. A perfect combination for an identity-less teenager trying to discover himself. The reason why this album changed my life is because Talking Heads helped me become the person that I am today. If someone is usually depressed, I don’t recommend Xanax, I recommend David Byrne. If that crazy musical genius can express his emotions, then we can make it. We can survive.
AVRIL LAVIGNE Sierra Pathael Campus Editor
When I was a little girl, three artists created acceptable music: John Denver, Johnny Rivers, and the Dixie Chicks. Britney Spears made the list for a while, but then she kissed Madonna and my best friend declared her off-limits. (I will admit to listening to “I’m a Slave 4 U” under the covers every now and then, though.) Everything else was “popular,” and in my mind, popular was synonymous with revolting. (I would have made a wonderful hipster if I hadn’t been ten years old.) Then a friend, fed up with my playing the same three CDs over and over again every time she visited, forced me to listen to Avril Lavigne’s “Anything but Ordinary.” The song
had just come out, and I hadn’t heard enough of my classmates praising it to automatically hate it, so I agreed. It only took a couple of lyrics to have me hooked. “Sometimes I get so weird, I even freak myself out”—that’s me in a nutshell even today, eleven years later. I borrowed the CD, listened to it for six hours straight, and finally, with the refrains of “Mobile” and “Unwanted” threatening never to leave my head, I admitted what I’d been avoiding: Music could be popular and good at the same time, and my friend had much better taste in music than I did. That admission was the crack in the dam. I read Harry Potter; I sat down and watched The Lord of the Rings; I stopped
boycotting Good Charlotte and Blink 182; and later, I even subjected myself to Twilight. (I blame Avril for that one, too, but hey—the fact that popular doesn’t equal horrible doesn’t mean popular things can’t be horrible.) Avril Lavigne forced me to recognize that acclaim isn’t always atrocious. I’m not sure whether I’m grateful to or annoyed at her for that—but I am glad I’m listening to a few more artists now than I did when I was a kid. You can only hear “Secret Agent Man” so many times before it starts sounding kitsch. So thank you, Avril, for that.
THE ARROGANT SONS OF BITCHES Nate Phung Contributor
14
LITERATURE
Union Weekly—14 October 2013
It All Started When the Government Shut Down
A Short Story by Katie Healy Literature Editor Illustration by Jane Lu Contributor My Space Camp photos, science fair awards, ski goggles, and suitcase covered with physics stickers were sitting beside my feet as I stared at the NASA intern dormitories. The windows were all black and lifeless like a thousand eyes had been extinguished. Another intern, Kim, beside me was frantically talking to his mother in Korean; I had no idea what was being said, but the tone reflected the conversation a dark-haired girl in a red t-shirt, Irene, was having on her iPhone. “The fuckin’ Shutdown! No. I’m already out. I have no clue if it will open again! We can’t even sleep here anymore. Yeah, well, Dr. Leah said she’d take me in until it either opens or I fly home.” I looked down at my own phone in its white case, dimmed and soiled by my fingerprints, and tried to look up the email of my own coordinator. He might have a spare couch and pillow. But when I looked up the website, it was shut down, too. With a buzz, my sister had sent me a text that read, “I can’t stand this, Jaime! My husband is in Afghanistan risking his life, and our daughter’s first grade teacher is working without pay!” I clenched my jaw and began texting back with stiff fingers, “And I’m stranded a 1000 miles from home.” A response buzz came a few minutes later, “I thought you live in the NASA intern dorms?” “‘Lived’, we were kicked out.” “Wait, they kicked you out because of the Shutdown?!?” “Yep.” “Smh.” Beside me, Kim hung up his phone and shoved it down into his worn-out blue backpack. “This is bullshit. Where the hell are we supposed to go?” “To hell, apparently,” I retorted. It earned a few self-righteous sniggers among my fellow interns; most of us sat on
our luggage like foreclosure evictees, only we were the budding young scientists of our generation, not worn-out people who couldn’t pay their mortgages. About fifty feet away, a flag was flying in the wind with white clouds for a backdrop. Irene got off the phone as well and fixed both Kim and me with a look. “We
funding issue, and I think we’d get in serious trouble—” “Exactly! Trouble! Trouble makes a statement. Trouble says that we will not go quietly into the night! That we cannot be dispatched with such disregard!” Irene was throwing her arms wide and raising her voice. Kim and I looked at each
should do something about this!” “What,” I said, “get a bunch of guns and declare independence?” Both Irene and Kim just looked at me, and I knew my one awesome comeback line of the night had already been spent. “Or we could eat junk food and cry?” “Anyway,” Irene continued, “we could do less crass things, like those interns that stole lunar rocks!” Kim cocked his head to the side. “Something tells me that won’t fix the
other; he raised his eyebrows while his blue sapphire stud earrings flashed in the fading sun. My face was that of ‘I think Irene has snapped.’ Eventually, I answered Irene with skepticism dripping from my voice, “What do you suggest we do?” Pointing to me, she answered with renewed fervor, “I’m going to build my own spacesuit and then sit in front of Congress with a cardboard sign like the homeless! I’m going to sit there until the
Shutdown ends! And if that doesn’t work, then I’ll break into the Endeavor and sleep there! It makes more of a statement than stealing space rocks!” The image popped into my head of a poorly painted cutout of a cardboard box that read ‘Invest in our future, not in our egos!’ with Irene looking outraged in her garage-medly spacesuit as a Congressman walked by without so much as a glance. Kim just shook his head as a blue car pulled up in front of him and an older Korean woman got out. Together they both piled his boxes and suitcase into the trunk. “I’d love to join you, Irene, but I think I’ll get a ticket to the Netherlands. The Hauge offered me a position before I came here. Science funding might really be drying up in the states.” I narrowed my eyes. “Wait, the Hauge? Isn’t that where the Netherland’s space agency is?” Kim nodded. “It’s easier than trying to fight it out here.” He gave both of Irene and me a hug before getting into the car and waving. “I’ll send you a postcard!” Once he drove away, Irene rounded on me. “Well, Jaime! Are you going to help me build my spacesuit?” I gave her a sheepishly vague smile to slip away from her ire. “My sister lives a few miles away, and her kids’ teachers are working for no pay. I think I’m just going to help them out and hope this thing opens back up soon.” “TRAITOR!” she yelled in my face, the blush in her cheeks matching the red of her shirt. “You’re a fuckin’ TRAITOR for doing nothing!” My white phone rang, and I picked it up. “Hey sis. Yes, I’d love a ride. Tell Mrs. Aimsley that I’ll give her a break during science period.”
Union Weekly—14 October 2013
FOOD
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Battle of the BBQ American
Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor
Many un-American critics claim that America is losing its exceptionality (some journalist named Putin from the pinkocommie New York Times wrote that) and its international influence due to lack of credibility and inconsistencies in policy with trivial shit like torture and drone strikes. This may or may not be trill, but one thing is certain: American BBQ is still the best in the whole entire world. Maybe the entire universe. It’s either US (get it?) or Klingon cooking. You decide. I like BBQ. Especially southern-style BBQ. It is as American as freedom, baseball, the missionary position, and beating up minorities. I’ve traveled to various parts of this country and I can wholeheartedly assert that when it comes to meat, you don’t fuck with Texas. I think that’s the axiom. A few years ago, a few friends and I made it out to Texas. I’m not proud of it, but you know, it’s integral to the article.
Mongolian
I LOVE MONGOLIAN BBQ!!! Most of the places I go have something to do with Genghis Khan in the title but nonetheless, shit’s trill. According to the Mongolian barbecue Wikipedia page, the ancient Mongol soldiers used to collect large quantities of meats, chop ’em all up with their deadly swords, and then cook then on their overturned shields over a roaring fire. How badass is that?! I myself have never actually seen this happen at contemporary American-Mongolian BBQ eateries, but the food’s still very badass. What you do is choose your raw meats, which include beef, chicken, pork, and others, and then pile on the veggies, like cabbage, carrots, broccoli, tofu, onion, and so on. Then, you hand your bowl over to the chef, where he’ll pour all of the ingredients onto a large, circular
We stopped in Austin (the liberal part of Texas. Whatever that means.), and we ate at this hole-in-the-wall BBQ joint. I can’t remember the name, but do I remember the barbecue. These cats had sausages soaked in sauce, fall-off-the-bone ribs, and tri-tip that was orgasmic and delicious. Like traditional BBQ, the meat was marinated for hours, making it as soft and tender as Justin Bieber’s butt cheeks. And by God, the side dishes were phenomenal. Mean mashed potatoes melted in my mouth. Celestial corn on the cob and baked biscuits that were flaky and heavenly. It was a shame to lose this meal to the digestive system. Who needs upscale foreign BBQ when you have Americana like this? My closing thoughts: eat American BBQ. It’s good for you and it’s probably patriotic.
Zack Falcon Contributor
stone griddle. He will then usually add a sauce of your choice and start grilling the meat in a very specific way. The aspect of the meat-grilling is honestly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. The best way I can describe it is like a mating ritual dance that one bird performs for another bird. It’s elegant and precise. Finally, once everything’s cooked, you can chow down. Usually they’ll give you side dishes like pocket biscuits, which are basically like rolls filled with air. They also resemble tiny little pillows, but instead of resting your head on them, you can gently rest them upon on your tongue. And then pop them in your mouth. And then devour them. So in conclusion, go find some Mongolian BBQ PRONTO!
Korean
Everyone knows I am in love with Korean barbecue. I still remember my first time. I was so naïve, I barely even knew how to use chopsticks! Since then my KBBQ barbecue palate has matured. I’ve been to several places, my personal favorite being Castle II in Los Angeles. Not the fanciest, but it’s all-you-can-eat and has more options than other AYCE places. Plus, they have very entertaining KPOP videos playing in the background. I’ll give you the lowdown on KBBQ, for any newcomers. When you walk into the establishment, a waiter will escort you to a table where side dishes will be already laid out for you. The standard for most side dishes include variations of kimchi, sprouts, tofu, fish cake, salad, and potatoes. If it isn’t already provided, you can always ask for extras like radish or rice paper, hot egg casserole, or just plain old rice. Don’t forget; this is all-you-can-eat. When you
Filipino
Filipino BBQ is not your typical backyard meat grilling. Yes, we do have the basic chicken and pork kabobs, marinated in soy sauce and some other Filipino spices which I was too lazy to look up. The taste simply reminds me of the hot breeze of a December night in the Philippines. However, that’s just the beginner’s level. Filipino BBQ doesn’t just stick to the basic animal body parts and discriminate. Have you tried barbecued chicken or pork intestines, kidneys, chicken feet, and pork’s skin? If your answer is no, then you haven’t lived. I would suggest giving up on life now! I would say my favorite is perhaps the chicken intestine. Yes, I know to your pale American ears, it sounds disgusting, but that’s where you’re wrong. This Filipino dish humbly named ‘isaw’ is basically intestines turned inside out
Molly Shannon Food Editor
run out of a dish, you can simply ask for more! It’s like when you come to KBBQ, you are royalty. They also will typically give you an oil and salt-and-pepper mixture, a spicy red sauce, and soy sauce to dip your food in. Finally, they will bring you the meats. The majority of restaurants have a small circular grill built right into the center of your table, where you can adjust the heat. You and your friends will bond over cooking your own meats, trust me. Meat choices include chicken, pork belly, marinated pork or beef, and beef brisket. Personally, I like the meat extra crispy, especially the brisket! It’s heavenly. Once you’ve had your fill, split up your check and you’re good to go. If you’re lucky, the waiters will even offer you ice cream. And that, my friends, is why Korean barbecue is the best of all barbecues.
Alfred Pallarca Assistant Editor
and cooked to golden brown perfection. The taste is what every meat lover desires. However, I think the zenith of a good ol’ Filipino BBQ is burning a whole pig on the stake, I mean barbecuing it. If you’re Muslim, stop reading right now! The aroma coming from the meat burning is simply indescribable. Don’t get me started on the crispy skin. The tender yet moist meat dipped in gravy is better than listening to “E.T.” by Katy Perry. Unfortunately, I can’t recommend any Filipino restaurant around the area or anywhere in 1000 miles for you guys to try any of this. Your best bet is probably hopping on a plane and flying to Manila to have all of this meat goodness!
Volume 73 Issue 8
Monday, October 14, 2013
LBUNION.COM
DISCLAIMER: Hey, God Warrior Here. Come here rude boy. Boy, can you get it up? COME HERE. Rude. Boy. Boy? Can you. Get it? UP. TAKE IT. TAKE IT. TAKE IT. TAKE IT. TAKE IT. TAKE IT. TAKE IT. Love me. Send my snail mail to 1212 Bellflower Blvd Suite 239, Long Beach, CA 90815. This page is satire and does not represent ASI nor the CSULB campus, ya’ doodle heads . In Jesus’ name, I pray you submit articles via email to grunion@lbunion.com.
GOD WARRIOR HERE!!!!!
Samuel Jackson to Star in Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar Adaptation
Yes, YES! I have stayed in the shadows for too long. For those who are unfamiliar I am the GOD WARRIOR. And I am the Editorin-Chief of this HOLY publication. I have come to you now at the turn of by God Warrior a new era, in which I will dispel all the DARKSIDED mischief that y’all is spewing on the CSULB campus. Now what I’ve been sayin’ an’ preachin’ an’ prayin’ is that the CSULB needs to embrace the Lord Jesus. As the GOD WARRIOR, I’m
This is by far the most mutha fuckin’ demanding role I have ever played. I’ve played gangsters. I’ve played Jedis. Sheeeeit. But I’ve never played a mutha fuckin’ caterpillar. I had to go all method by Greg and shit. Sleeping in Horbles a leaf. Eating all day. I tied down all my limbs just so I feel all impotent and shit, like one of those stupid ass caterpillars crawlin’ around on their bellies. My boy Tarantino comes up to me one day and says, “Sam, have you read this book? It’s fucked up. It’s about a caterpillar, you know. He’s trying to survive in a world that hates feet, you know. So he goes to Big Kahuna Burger to grab some food when, out of nowhere, Christoph Waltz as a grasshopper comes in with some nine millimeters, one in each hand, and yells, ‘This is a robbery. Do not move, please. I do not intend hurt any person wishing to purchase any of these delectable Salisbury Steak sandwiches. I am merely a man in a dire economic situation wishing to improve the aforementioned conditions set upon him by society. So please humor me and do not attempt to make any wrong moves.’ Meanwhile, I’m the guy behind the register. That’s my cameo. I’m standing there,
little gorgyle mischiefs of SIN. Mama always said that the worst thing for a human being is education. The only thing you need to be educated in is the power of PRAYER. I came to this publication once I learnt that the CSULB had added a Domino’s pizza house. But I STAYED because I found the pizza riddled with sin and DARKSIDED
crust. It was burnt. So I threw holy water upon the ESTABLISHMENT and faced a severe scolding from the maintenance crew. It was UNGODLY. Though I have an important position on this campus, I must live in the muck like His Lord Jesus once did among all those witch-ladies and hootenannies. I’m opening up a new safe-zone for non-DARKSIDED members of the CSULB called The Pit, in which I invite you into my pit behind the MCintosh building and we will plot our crusade against the university and its witchbooks through my sermons on the Grunion. Yes, it’s true. Mischiefers and MAGICIANS are abound on this campus. It’s not safe anywhere you go. I tried to hide myself under a bench by the Beach Hut and a long haired DEMON with a skateboard did a skateboarding maneuver over my head. And when I asked him what he hath done, he like wizard-jabber to me. I spit in his eye. In short, I need your PRAYERS. I am runnin’ out of food, I am runnin’ out of water, an’ I am runnin’ out of clean black MUUMUUS.
scared shitless, and Buddy Holly comes out on the jukebox. I pull a samurai sword from underneath the register, so we’re in this Mexican standoff. I’m standing there thinking, ‘Who the fuck does this bigheaded mutha fucker think I am?’ So I Cheadle.’ So he’s like, ‘I’m sorry, Sam. I just wanted to make it like the modern Roger Corman, or you know, uh, Lloyd Kaufman with his Toxic Avenger. You could I told him to fuck off. So the search started up again. It bounced around for a while. At one time mutha fuckin’ Woody Allen was attached to with his goofy, “Uh, maybe you can go up to Diane Keaton and Now David Lynch is set to direct so I had to follow his strict, confusing policies of doing yoga and shit. And that’s how I cut off my legs.
Left: Burnt pizza crust of SATAN Above: The long-haired DEMON who affronted my person
INSIDE
DR. DOG (DOG DOCTOR) IS THIS DAWG’S (DOGG) DOGTER. THE DOGTER IS IN (THE DAWGHOUSE).
REBA EMBRACES HER ITALIAN ROOTS: “A-REBA DERCI”
“YOU’RE TEARING ME APART, LISA!”