“IT’S NOT ROMANTIC, IT’S STALKING”
Wednesday, November 6, 2013 5:30 Check in & Refreshments; 6-8 PM Program USU Beach Ballroom A&B Sponsored by:
Join us for an evening with CSULB alumnus, nationally recognized stalking expert Detective Mike “Duck” Proctor. Duck will share information on cyber stalking and social media, how to respond if you are being stalked, and other insights from more than 30 years of experience. A CSULB panel with representatives from Counseling University Police will follow to provide campus resources.
For more information contact the Women’s Resource Center at wrc@csulb.edu Register by November 1st online at Beach Sync: https://orgsync.com/52081/forms/86050
Issue 73.10
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 Union Weekly
10
be edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, and length. The Union Weekly letters, articles, editorials, and illustration, but must have your name and information attached for our Union Weekly assumes no responsibility, nor is it liable, for claims of its advertisers. Grievance procedures are available in the
“I sat on my burger.” John Villanueva, Former Music 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
Eric Garcia, Advertising Exec
advertising@lbunion.com
Rose and the Creepy Paintings in Her House Rose Feduk Editor-In-Chief
Shereen Lisa Dudar, Opinions Editor opinons@lbunioncom
Gabe Ferreira, Art Director gabe.union@gmail.com
Sierra Patheal, Campus Editor campus@lbunion.com
Brian Mark, Art Director brian.union@gmail.com
Michael Wood, Music Editor music@lbunion.com
Connor O’Brien, Cover Photography connor.union@gmail.com
Roque Renteria, Entertainment Editor entertainment@lbunion.com
Truc Nguyen, Web Manager
Katie Healy, Literature Editor literature@lbunion.com
Eddie Viramontes, Graphic Designer info@lbunion.com
Alia Sabino, Culture Editor culture@lbunion.com
God Warrior, Grunion Editor grunion@lbunion.com
Molly Shannon, Food Editor food@lbunion.com
Alyssa Keyne, Alfred Pallarca, Athletics Editors athletics@lbunion.com
activity that’s deeply ingrained in human unknown and the unexplained and the
that depicts children dancing around in in the distance looms ominously. Now
Any guest that’s ever sat on our living room
really need to pee. Not knowing where
bathroom.” The name doesn’t come without reason—it’s a tiny room with one to be haunted. And as they sleep on the pull out bed later that night with the painting good night’s sleep transpires into a restless night’s watch over what previously was just
the place one wants to be at three in the grabbed and snatched into the shadows by
house is once the sun sets. larger-than usual living room pressing in on anything is scary. Our writers can attest
opportunity to hide in the well-lit bathroom. Assistant Editors:
Contributors: Irene Refuerzo, Chris Dumas, Ruth Calcanas, Leah Sakacs, Christina Chavez Duarte,
Questions? Comments? Candymen?
a ghost DJ making the buttons click and he Shining and makes you even in the places most dear to us—our
Long Beach, CA 90815. E-mail: info@lbunion.com
Kevin Tran, Kristine De Leon, Robert Turner, Leon, Paula Tena, Michael Colbert, Lou Skant,
more than meets the eye. thinking back to how my dad told them earlier how a ghost likes to walk up and
Open Meetings are Tuesdays at 5:30pm in
LBUnion.com
Join our Union Weekly Contributors group: http://tinyurl.com/kasq4yb
4 Spooky-pinions
The Limits of Liberty Americans want freedom without responsibility Robert Turner Contributor My Philosophy course always yields good class discussions. One argument in particular stunned the entire class, causing our professor to essentially give up on the discussion. We set aside almost an hour of class time for the discussion, but were only full on argument. The question was “Do we have the right to limit the freedoms of a pregnant woman to ensure the safety of her child?” We raise the question only under the condition that the mother has decided to have the baby. No student could argue the point further than how we SHOULD protect the unborn from birth defects, but legally we are tied down by the rights of the mother. We hear about the mothers who down half a bottle of whiskey daily during
pregnancy and end up have children with mental disabilities. Is it the right of a mother to intentionally harm her future child? Does the baby not have the right to be free of such defects? What are we supposed to do? This raises the question of not only our freedoms but also our morality as a nation. In my opinion, once a mother decides to have a baby, it is her responsibility that the baby is born healthy. If the mother wishes to exercise her freedom to party, the future child is now at a disadvantage. However, in order to protect the child’s rights, the mother must give up her own. So what are the limits of freedom? With freedom comes responsibility— a responsibility to protect the freedom of others. There is a regulation on the First
Ho-ing It Up for Halloween
Amendment right of free speech for a reason. As Americans, we are driven by the fact that we live in a free nation, but can we truly be considered free when all of us can’t agree on where our freedom starts and ends? In the eyes of some, freedom is the right to abort an unwanted child. To the opposition, freedom is allowing all life to be given an equal chance. How much protection are we obligated to give? Our freedom is derived from our morality. All over the world, freedom is constructed around the morality of a society. For example, the UK, often thought of as a country similar to the US culturally, has some of the strictest laws on defamation. They are simply not willing to deal with the negative aspects of free speech and press. However, freedom of speech is one
of the most treasured freedoms in America. Freedoms are not universal. They are subjective and rely upon the values of a culture in a given society. This does not make freedom a trivial pursuit (no pun intended). Even in the same culture, freedom is a contentious topic, and to this day is still disputed by the several factions of America. But our biggest problem here is that many ask what they can do with their freedoms, and not what their serves only to abuse our liberties instead of celebrating them. Only when we realize that freedom is a double edged sword can we wield it successfully.
Shereen Lisa Dudar Opinions Editor
In defense of slutty costumes Tina Fey has written it before and I will write it again— “Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.” But other girls do say something. Those who choose to dress up as a more realistic version of a character judge the girls who take the scantily clad route. I have never worn a “slutty” Halloween costume; I generally wear an ankle length Snow White, but I don’t think less of the girls who wear the hip hugging corset and mini skirt version paired with red bow thigh-highs. We all just want to be Disney princesses! Slutty costumes are not a symbol of oppressed females falling victim to a sexually driven society, but rather a symbol of fearless females who don’t care what others think Women have come a long way to wear what they want, and if you want to spend October 25th to 31st stumbling from party to party as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle with amazing cleavage, more power to you. Halloween is a time for fun, and there’s nothing more fun than taking a character from your childhood and sexing them up! I applaud the creativity.
Then there’s the Karen Smiths of the world, donning a chemise and mouse ears. The lingerie and animal ear costume is far I’m going to stick to what I said earlier— wear whatever the fuck you want and just have fun. And if you’re asked what you’re suposed to me, just point to those ears and I can’t promise you that people won’t stare or talk about you behind your back,
To the girls who worked all summer on
all that hard work. If you’re a curvy girl with boobs that have prevented you from lying on your stomach since you were 14, take this Whatever your body type is, go out there and rock that costume. It’s not slutty, it’s awesome, and you’re awesome!
5 Vampus
Our contributors have banded together to bring you a few complaints that we have about utilize and just generally pieces of junk. And
of course, by voicing these complaints in this newspaper instead of going to the people in charge directly to make some substantial change, there’s a strong chance that our
gripes will fall on deaf ears. Regardless, send campus@lbunion.com
The Scanner at Starbucks Many people at this school enjoy I work at the Starbucks in the library. Our on campus, bringing in thousands of students daily. Yes, thousands. The line is constant, and my fellow baristas and I are always doing a hundred things at once in order to make sure things go fairly smoothly. Though we do our best to keep the line moving, one problem that has been holding us back is the fact that we don’t have a scanner. The scanner is supposed to be compatible with the Starbucks
card information on their cell phones, and when they’re ready to pay for their order, a little barcode with the 16-digit number of their gift card pops up on the phone. They hand the phone to the cashier and badabing, bada-boom, they’re all set. Not having a scanner is a major problem considering the fact that an insane amount of our customers love using their phones to pay for their lattes and frappuccinos. Because we don’t have a
have to add it in again. And again. And the line continues to grow because of the ridiculous situation. We know how long the line can get in our Starbucks. We do. I sympathize with all of you. If we had a scanner, our lines could be eliminated 10 times faster. The mobile app believe that our business needs to provide the Until then, just bear with me as I manually type in your gift card’s number on the register.
ass number to us as we punch it in on the computer screen. Because it’s so loud in our store, sometimes I mishear the number, and
University Student Union
Veterans Amongst Us
If you’ve been a student here at the Beach long enough, then you understand the confusion of the maze that is our
I’ll concentrate on the misleadingly placed
foremost, the existence of like 27 entrances makes it seem even more like a labyrinth. There are many things I can bitch about when it comes to the USU, including the
academy, a club meeting or some sort of orientation/workshop that told you to go to room 200 something, and you found yourself wandering aimlessly trying to
the lack of more outlets to plug my Mac that has about a 4 minute battery life, but for now
searching for room 206, I found myself lost
Amongst the campus population, there are a good many military veterans in plain sight. You wouldn’t know it by looking at them, for many have allowed their hair to grow. Who are they? They are your professors, administrator, facilitating your academic
the dude at the gym, completely ignoring
offers campus awareness Mike Wang Contributor
equally befuddled at the course material. They don’t all look like your Hollywood action hero. Veterans are of every ethnic and religious background, a testament to America’s temperament, to the bewilderment of this nation’s enemies. Often, veterans are incognito because they are readjusting to the society that they fought for. They will not self-identify because the transition is not easy. But
ever had to take a workshop such as one for
that’s an understatement. Since 2001, this nation has lost an average of 22 veterans a day to suicide, which should speak volumes to the colossal challenge of reacclimation. A dismal ending for the brave of our land. More often than not, because they are misunderstood. Veterans are among you, and they want nothing more than to smoothly re-acclimate into civilian life. Try as they may, there are some actions that will instantly trigger their combat defenses, such as: sneaking
for the action-consequence equation. My suggestion? Be mindful of your actions, and exercise mindfulness towards the community you belong to. There are worthwhile resources for veterans that can be discovered at the
and the student ballrooms. Wouldn’t it make sense that the 200 classrooms would be directly below the 300 ones? I don’t know who designed this building or if they deliberately wanted to make fools of our students, but why would you place these rooms in an area completely separate? How are we supposed to know that these classrooms would be through the glass door at the walkway right by the roundabout?
you if you’re a vet. The one running that shop is Dr. Marshall Thomas, a former Marine who gets the military culture. But veterans can be a stubborn bunch, and feel as if they do not need any assistance. However, we lounge, a hot pot will always be brewing. If you’re not a veteran, and have square you away. Come build your awareness about vets on the week of November 4, where Dr. Thomas and his team have a full schedule of events sharing the military experience.
In service, Mike Wang
6 Bloodbathletics
“I like doing this in my youth because I’m not going to be young all the time.”
These Tricks Aren’t Just for Kids After school trickers attempt to establish tricking club Alyssa Keyne Athletics Editor Photos by Alfred Pallarca Athletics Editor
On any given Monday or Wednesday afternoon, you are likely to see a group on the lawns close to KJazz and Lecture Halls 150 & 151 practicing tricking. In order to
you have to learn in progression. People can
Wushu, Karate, Tae Kwon Do, anything else,
into what it is today. In the early 2000s, tricking
The guys love the thrill of constantly It looks as though the sport is only going
the nature of the sport allows people to
GA, and Las Vegas, NV. Tricking has also
9 Feature
What do you really know about ghosts? Spirits? The paranormal? Do hearing these words make you afraid? Or do they leave you confused? Hi, I’m Molly Shannon, your novice ghost expert and average paranormal enthusiast. I’m here to set the record straight and alleviate any false allegations or previous misconceptions about the unknown. If you don’t scare easily, continue reading. And especially if you scare easily, I want you to continue reading. My goal is to get those who do not know much about this subject to rid themselves of any false notions they may have about these unexplainable phenomena, and gain better knowledge of them.
Scare Tactics Words and photos by Molly Shannon Food Editor
Feature>>>
8 Feature
“As she held the puppet, he started talking to any potential spirits, telling them to yank it from out of her hands.� Ghost Hunting 101
The Event
9 Feature
“I looked up at the skylight in the ceiling and could have sworn I even saw down at us.�
Your Own Investigation
10 Critterature
More people are wearing sweaters knives and carve out grotesque, now, and with Halloween looming yet beautiful, faces in pumpkins its creepy head, it’s time to break and roast their seeded guts with salt and olive oil. Whatever your ghost stories. Take out your desire, here are some spooky
stories to get you into the spirit! Disclaimer: The Union Weekly is not I scoured CSULB’s writers to responsible for any nightmares that respond to the prompt “They Told result from paper and ink. Me the Monsters Weren’t Real.”—
Loss of Knife
The man sat in his chair. The man sat in his chair. He became aware of the cold entering the room long after his body had begun to shiver. He was unsure of why he listened to them. He knew no good ever came from listening to them, but did he have a choice? He was a mess. He didn’t know what he was going to do. Everything had fallen apart in front of his very eyes. It was everywhere. The maroon stained the walls. The carpet. The chair he was sitting on. His khakis. His favorite khakis. Where did his life go? Where did his life go? He worked three jobs. None of them were very hard, but all work and no play, am I right? He saw his
family, but he never really saw his family. He knew they were there. He just had to check his empty wallet and his bank account to know they were there. He knew he was supposed to care about them, and he did care about them. At least at one point. But it was at about the time he started his third job that he realized nobody was talking to him anymore. Well, they were talking to him, but they weren’t talking to him. Well, they were talking to him, but he tried not to listen. He tried talking to his wife about them, but she didn’t understand. “Wait, slow down honey, you’re not making any sense. What do you mean, what you’re saying sounds unreal…”
Ghost
Haunted
Exes and Oohs
Kristine de Leon Contributor
Kristine de Leon Contributor
Paula Tena Contributor
Michael Colbert Contributor
I lost my life Sometime ago But how it happened I do not know
I feel a chill Footsteps are quicker A wolf ’s howl is shrill
I wander here to try and see If somehow You’d remember me
There’s no one here But the door creaks I should not fear But someone screams
But a ghost is not welcome in humans’ lives
Fly down the stairs
I cannot feel I cannot cry It’s not worth it To even try
Open the front door Greeted by those eyes.
I am a ghost and nothing more
anybody. Well, I heard them, but I didn’t hear them. Except for them. I always heard them. I didn’t like what they said. It was wrong. It was horrifying, but it was all that there was. I wish my wife was here. Where did my wife go? Where did my wife go? She laid on the moving for some time. They were right. She is a problem. She was a problem. She didn’t understand him. She didn’t understand me. They understood me. They were all that there was. They are all that there is. Where did my knife go? before I go back to work.
That was the last time I ever really heard
They call me “bonita” through the gaps of their yellow-stained-teeth. They call me a tease when I begin to lift the frayed ends of my velvet mini-skirt. They call me “the best” as they scramble around searching for their undergarments in the darkness of my bedroom. They call me “the one” but they secretly kiss the blonde leaning against the bar. They call me a liar as the burning hand print of their palm leaves my gelid face. They
call me at three in the morning lamenting, pleading for forgiveness. They call me “that one slut” and “that one whore” during poker games with their friends. They call me again, and again, and again, till the echoing cries of the phone become the only ring I hear. They call me no more.
Nowhere to go
Haunted.
“They call me a tease when I begin to lift the frayed ends of my velvet mini-skirt.”
11 Critterature
Keep Me Company Alia Sabino Culture Editor
First-Timer Jordan Nishkian Contributor
They told me the monsters weren’t real, but the voices in my head won’t shut up. They just won’t leave me alone. I tell them to stop. I plead with them endlessly to keep their distance, to let me be, but they keep talking. . . murmuring . . . hissing . . . in the background. “You’re nothing. You’re worthless. Do everyone a favor and just end it.” I hear their voices constantly, and these voices have names. There’s Alex, hostile, insensitive, and always angry. And there’s
Sarah, always trying to mediate. In the middle of my conversations with other people, in the middle of going about my daily life, they always manage to remind me of their existence. Schizophrenia, is what my psychiatrist said. He told me that with the proper medication and treatment, he could make them go away.
He smothers your mouth with his. His
long day.” He goes back to humming and he inches
Your face is buried into his warm chest. “Your skin is so soft,” he whispers as he trails his lips across your ear. you, “You’re really beautiful, you know that?” You’re too breathless to answer him. He grins and touches your cheek with the backs
and your heartbeat quickens as he unbuckles his belt. He laughs quietly at the sight of your eyes on him. “You like to watch, don’t you?” he asks playfully with a raised eyebrow, “Well, don’t worry, angel, you’re gonna get a show tonight.” His bed, placed in the center of his small studio bedroom, is soft and the sheets are clean and white. You lie there heavily, still in your work uniform. What a way to end a hard His body is shaded and sculpted by the light. He basks in the dripping glow of the moon in nothing but his grey boxers: the room—the empty, plain-walled room—as his stage, and you, this night’s true love, as his audience. He brushes his long brown hair into a ponytail carelessly and a curly tendril springs back to graze his strong brow. “The way...” he clears his throat, “the way you look right now is really beautiful. Like a snow angel...the way you’re surrounded in the white and all.” He pauses, “But really, I could stare at you right here: in this moment, on this bed, forever. I could stare at you forever.” He looks at you a bit longer before he snaps to, “Ah! Where are my manners?” He begins to hum a song, a familiar tune, to you as he removes your shoes and your socks, “Let’s get you comfortable. You’ve had a
have taken possession of my mind. But now, I don’t know. I want them to stay. I need them with me. These voices have become my friends, my constants in this ever changing, unpredictable world. They’re presence is almost comforting. When the silence comes around, I get worried about them. Have they left me as well? Have they also deemed me unworthy of their presence? “Come back,” I beg them.
All I wanted to do was drill a hole in my head to get rid of them, of these demons that
His humming racks your memory, and you squint your eyes to try to place the music. “You don’t remember?” he asks as he waistband of your underwear, “It was playing while we were talking. You were cleaning up the joint and looked so tired, so I bought you He sits at the foot of the bed and begins to rub your feet, “Relax and listen, it’ll come to you. It was only a couple hours ago!” His thumb kneads the arches of your feet and you squeeze your eyes shut, listening as his voice wraps around your mind. Why can’t you remember? “Stars... shining bright above you...” Think! “Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you...’” Birds? “Birds singing in the sycamore tree,” his eyes pierce into yours as he kisses your toes, “dream a little dream of me...” You exhale slowly. You love that song. He smiles with delight, “See? You remember.” He moves his hands up to your wrinkled, down, undoing the buttons gracefully. You give him your weight as he lifts you and eases
billowing on its way down. “Say nighty-night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me. While I’m alone and blue as can be...” A tear forms in your eye. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he brushes your hair aside, “No, don’t cry. Don’t be sad. Angel, you look so pretty, please don’t cry.”
He wipes your tear away, “I know you’re your collar bone, “I’ll take good care of you.” He holds your head in his hands and covers your mouth with his, “No more crying, okay?” You nod your head drowsily. “You don’t feel too well, do you?” You try to shake your heavy head. Every aching thought is an echo too vast and scattered for your mind to process. It’ll do that,” his thumb plays with your lower lip, “It’s my own recipe actually. It makes it so your brain mostly knows what’s goin’ on, but your body doesn’t want to move.” You can do nothing but stare at him. “Aw, don’t look at me like that, angel. I had to. How else could I have gotten you here?” You groan and your eyelids feel heavy. “Oh no, no, no,” he laughs and cradles your face, “The fun hasn’t even started yet! Show me your eyes... Don’t dream of me yet.” He returns to his feet and rummages through the backpack resting against one of the walls. “Now, I know you haven’t done this before, so I’m just gonna warn you that hurt. It’s gonna hurt and there’s gonna be blood, but it gets better. Trust me.” He returns to you and smiles widely, “I can’t believe I’m so lucky. You’re as beautiful as ever, angel.” His image becomes blurry and faded, but the silver gleam from his hand shines brightly. The tears gather up in your eyes as you feel his cold knife lightly trail up your leg. “Now I know you’re frightened, but I’m dying to ask you something...” Your body quakes violently as the tip of your sternum. He stoops his body low, almost touching yours, and you cringe as his lips graze against your ear: “Are you as excited for this as I am?”
12 Enter-pain-ment
Nightmare Casting Spooky performances to haunt your dreams Ryan Gosling in Gangster Squad Lou Skant Staffer
I like Ryan Gosling. And so does every woman on this planet. Although, my appreciation for Mr. Gosling stems from more than just his lackluster breakout performance in The Notebook. I’ve seen almost every movie he’s ever had a part in, and even sat through the excruciatingly painful Only God Forgives this summer. It was a piece of crap, but you can’t make good movies all the time. In an ideal world, Only God Forgives would’ve been Gosling’s only farce of 2013, but this is not the case. Gangster Squad was an abomination. It was the most uninspired cliché I’ve seen in a while. I grew up watching gangster movies, and believe me, this was no homage. This was into a guillotine. The movie was destined to fail, so I can’t say that Gosling is entirely responsible, but I blame him because I wholeheartedly believe that Gosling believed that he could play a ’40s cop.
Mark Ruffalo in The Avengers Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor
I have a problem. I get easily distracted with minor details. I should see a psychologist about it, but I’m too lazy. This hindrance sucks because it ruins movies for me. If I see an actor who is not right for a role, I can’t enjoy the rest of the movie. Sometimes, it can be quite a nightmare [Vincent Price laugh]. A prime example of I’ll pick on him because The Incredible Hulk is a modern version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and that’s kind of Halloween-themed. Have you seen The Avengers you have! Have you seen The Incredible Hulk
guessing not, because if you had seen it,
Daniel Craig as James Bond Marco Beltran Managing Editor
Daniel Craig as Bond didn’t seem like such a miscasting until I saw Skyfall. Before then, I thought he worked out pretty well. which isn’t as important unless you factor some of Roger Moore’s and Sean Connery’s looks like the type of person that could choke a guy out in an alleyway and go into the bar next to the dead body for a drink, with that cold, calculated look that you’d want from a spy. My gripe is a basic yet fundamental trait that Craig lacks to create a compelling portrayal of Bond. Though, the movies are action based, a lot of the tension and magic happens in his silent interactions
playing himself. I get it; he’s a good-looking cat and he radiates personality. And those eyes. A mortal can get lost in those eyes. These are advantageous attributes that have skyrocketed Gosling into superstardom, but these are not characteristics that are needed when casting a loose-cannon cop. Look at all the greatest Dirty Harry, Columbo, Shaft, and Robocop. All these badasses were played by actors who had rugged and manly faces. Ryan Gosling is a beautiful creature, but he has a baby-face. You can’t be a badass if you have a baby-face. Imagine how stupid Scarface would’ve been if he didn’t have a scar. Secondly, Gosling doesn’t have the same gritty charm that the Golden Age actors had. Gosling usually plays the sweetheart, from which he deviated a bit when playing The Driver in Drive, but for the most part, he’s a typecast. The hunk. He doesn’t have
the same eccentricities and mysteriousness that someone like Robert Mitchum had. Do you think Robert Mitchum would’ve gotten Jane Greer in Out of the Past if he had
if you want to get the real hardcore dames, you need to have a face aged like leather and a voice so sonorous that the Budweiser frogs would be jealous. Finally, he’s just not that good of an actor. He has range, he is versatile, but Imagine if Michael Fassbender played his role in Gangster Squad. That would’ve been a powerhouse performance. But, alas, Gosling sells tickets. And in Hollywood if you sell, you get employed. It’s true. The sooner we realize this, the sooner we can appreciate good actors and good movies.
then you would know what an injustice it
Ironman was on the screen and he told The Hulk that he was assembling a team. How
wasn’t directed by Ang Lee. He has so much charisma and reticence that he makes Bruce Banner an interesting character. Mark
2008. Four years before the world would see Marvel’s greatest heroes form a collective. I don’t know. I guess I thought The Avengers would’ve been much better had
supporters out there, what has Mark really
Banner. I’m sure he isn’t cheap. And Robert Downey is already making a lot of money as Ironman. It wouldn’t make sense to hire an actor with the same level of celebrity as your cash cow. Whether you agree with me or not,
disappointed when The Avengers casted through the credits of The Incredible Hulk and seeing Robert Downey Jr. appear. When I saw Tony Stark, I fucking lost my mind.
with people. Unfortunately for Craig, and everyone else who’s never seen a Bond movie, he is unable to exude that cool, debonair look that came so naturally to the older Bonds. I know that’s not as important for the movie as any other plot point, but it’s important for the characterization of James Bond, and to help the audience understand that this guy is cool, people are gravitated toward him, but it’s all a ruse to get what he wants. You don’t get that with Daniel Craig. He just looks mad all the Maybe he just doesn’t understand, or he’s never been in a situation where he’s had to show a person that he’s into them with just a look.
I’ll admit that he is a beautiful man. His eyes are an azure with a tinge of sadness and mystery. It’s just the rest of his face doesn’t have it so easy. It’s granite. You can’t mold granite or squeeze it until it shows some form of emotion. The whole character hinges on his ability to express sexuality, yet, as much as he tries to with his mouth or his eyes to give something for the ladies and gentlemen that look forward to that seductive connection with the character, he just gives the same granite face. Thankfully, they found a way to work the plot around his inability to seduce anyone, by surrounding him with beautiful and talented people that can act like they’re being woo’d.
UMS Halloween Show Costumes and cool music at The Nugget Michael Wood Music Editor
If you’ve been reading this page lately, you already know that I’m a big fan of what those folks at the Underground Music Society are doing. Organizing shows that people actually want to go to, keeping musicians on campus in touch, and generally being chill and fun folks. What’s not to like? So naturally, when I realized they were putting on a Halloween show at the Nugget last Thursday, I was excited and curious to see if they could consistently deliver new and interesting line-ups to play for the good folks at CSULB without reverting to the same couple bands over and over again. I already knew of the synth-pop duo Kids Without Instruments, who won the Union Songwriting contest last year, and Tubby Boots, who I had seen a few months ago at the Smell in downtown LA. But The Doggerels and Bad Viiibes were complete unknowns to me, so I was excited to see what Tubby Boots opened up the show with their soulful college rock sound. A dash of punk, some alt rock and plenty of were evident in their sound. Although they
aren’t the type of band that gets you up and up punk music going in the Nugget with Bad see them live and experience their music and sort of understated energy. In complete contrast were The Doggerels. Bluesy to an absurd extreme, with music that packs a punch. I couldn’t stop tapping my foot the whole way through. Their vocalist could really belt out the blues and her guitar work had a special quality, a sort of rattlesnake sound going on. No it wasn’t in disrepair, she left a tambourine on her amp to give every chord she strummed a rough and rattling quality that I absolutely loved. Kids Without Instruments played their trademark danceable synth pop that they are known for. Unfortunately, they stood out like a sore thumb among a more rockenergy they were able to pull from the crowd. Following The Doggerels was rough simply because it was just such a change of pace, from high energy blues rock to a somewhat soft and sweet New Wave revival type sound. I consider myself a fan but I just couldn’t get into them this time around.
They probably got one of the best audience responses of the night, with half a dozen people getting up in front of the stage and pogoing. Remember, this was at the end of the night when people were slowly starting to exit the Nugget and head home. Nothing struck me as distinctive about their style but they were loud, they had attitude and they got people moving. I’ve got respect for a band that can do that. UMS show makes it apparent that they have done their homework. They’re not relying completely upon the bands of the core members of the club, they’re able to get alumni bands like Tubby Boots and virtual unknowns on this campus like The Doggerels alike out here and expose the campus community to some cool tunes. And personally, I think that’s a pretty noble goal and they’re pursuing it in the best possible way.
Surf Rock for the South Bay Awesome tunes and “medicinal” edibles, courtesy of your frat brothers in India House
Alex Berman Contributor
Hailing from our very own campus comes a band whose main motivation and sole inspiration is to simply rock out and get you dancing. If you’re a fan of Red Hot Chili
drunken college antics, medicinal Oreos, and beer-bongs for days, come to one of their shows, or even just download their brand
time, then look no further than the upand-coming surf rock band India House. Naturally, pledging in the same fraternity as well as being a guitar player to boot, mad musicians are all about. After a brief interview and a couple quick jams, I found myself enthralled by their rocking, uplifting tunes, and thoroughly entertained by their notoriously wild antics.
With choruses like “I wanna get drunk my mind,” India House sets the perfect atmosphere for a good time with loads of
As for the bands writing process, the dudes don’t fake what they do. Mike Willy said “The writing process is organic. Like, one person will comes up with a jam, and
rhythm section. When asked what sets them apart from the rest of their scene, Sam Fiore simply stated: “Our chemistry comes from
everything just ends up working.” Rain Gregorio added “We do grind though, I mean we work and we grind, but we don’t force anything.”
when you come to a show just imagine, like, you and your best friends just hanging out, partying, playing music together, and having matter the audience, we’re always having fun. The audience can pick up on that.”
the band puts into making their music, the guys in India House know how to reward themselves after a grueling day in the studio. My participation in the same fraternity has shown me how down these guys can get. If you’re looking for an after-party with
Like their page on Facebook at Facebook. com/indiahouselb and follow them on Twitter: @indiahouselb. These unsigned up-and-comers are just shifting into high gear, and with a few big ideas and a drive like might hold for them.
Ghoul-sic
“I couldn’t stop tapping my foot the whole way through.”
13
14 Torture
The Monster Inside Me Living with the real-life horrors of your inner demons
Life is complicated. We all have personal demons. These demons arise from previous errors, friendships that we’ve destroyed with ego. Eventually, these torments manifest themselves into a physical form. We at the Union have collected phobias and their embodiments. Fear of public speaking and of spiders may be the more
Illustration by Claire DeWilde Contributor
infamous ones, but the intangible fears such as time, judgment and failure constantly eat away at us. No need to look any further and search for ghouls and spirits in cemeteries or seemingly haunted places. Just grab a mirror and look within, for the real monsters are the ones you’ve created yourself.
Time Temptress Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor My biggest fear in life is wasting time. Biologically, my body will probably live to be 73 years of age on average. However, it’s not the quantity of years that scares me, it’s the quality of those years. And I spend most of my time sitting around not doing much of anything; the anxiety is building up inside. With all these things in mind, the monster I would most fear would be a shape-shifter. An amorphous blob. But, it could see into the future and give you a preview into your later years. For example, it would show you an 80 something-year-old version of yourself, and tell you about all the years and moments you’ve wasted in life. And that your future is inevitable. It would also tell you about all your friends and loved ones that you’re going
to lose. And somehow create a story about You would begin to feel guilty and create a alienate those closest to you in an attempt to save them. But by trying to save them, you isolate yourself, thus dying a lonesome, unacknowledged and uncared-for death. Most people have phobias that are physical or an object or an animal; my phobia is intangible. It’s more psychological. I think that’s what makes it scarier. Anyone can squish a regular-sized spider or shoot a giantsized spider in its eight eyes with a shotgun, but the most frightening and most dangerous monsters are the ones that lock you up inside.
Constant Creeper
Mother’s Mayhem
Alfred Pallarca Athletics Editor
Maxene Santiago Contributor
I have always been creeped out by trees. Before you think I’m a psycho, hear me out. I am not scared of the actual thing. I love trees they do for humanity. I’m more scared of the actual word itself. In fact, I am scared of the letter T. Learning English wasn’t such a hard process, although some kids were cruel and did make fun of me. After merely 10 years, sometimes people can barely hear the accent when I speak. However, it seems that my brain and tongue are disjointed, making me incapable of pronouncing or enunciating Ts. It is even harder when there’s a letter H after it. It just makes my life so miserable. It’s unfortunate, but I will never be friends with anybody named Timothy or Tabatha. Thinking about pronouncing these two names gives me the heebie-jeebies. They just have too many Ts that my tongue simply can’t deal with it. I generally try to avoid
saying words that have too many T’s in them. It’s a hard life I live, to be honest. You know how people count their calories? Well I count my T’s. Please, don’t make me explain this process. I guess the root of all this is my fear of being judged. I know for a fact that people can be cruel and judgmental. Whatever you present to anyone is capable of being judged. Though I know it’s unavoidable, I am scared of people judging my communication as incompetent. I don’t want to be nicknamed as the kid who can’t speak properly or the kid with the accent. Generally, I’m just scared of people judging me for my character, appearance, or capabilities. What people need to understand, is that what they say can really sticks and stones may break my bones, and words can also hurt me.
Parents have a way of getting into your skin, and screwing you up from the inside. My personal monster would be in the form of my mother, always one step behind me, telling me I will never amount to better myself, it seems that she’s always waiting in the wings, waiting for any sign of failure, and the chance to say “I told you so.” I grew up a troubled kid. I felt alone, insecure, and always tried to stand in the back, and be as invisible as possible. On a daily basis my mother made me feel But because she was my mother, I thought that she knew me more than I knew myself. She had a strange spell over me, as most parents do over their children, and I felt she saw an evil in me that no one else could see. She brainwashed me into believing less and less of myself, and made me believe that I
wasn’t worthy of love, or anything remotely resembling happiness. Her voice gave me goose bumps, and her presence sent tingles down my spine. Even if I no longer live with her, mere memories of her can still cause these reactions. There came a point in time when there was no need for her to tell me these things, or to put me down in any way, because I successfully took that job on myself. I spent years and years bringing myself up and tearing myself down, constantly running in circles. I struggled with my identity, my self worth, and capability to love myself. Despite still sometimes hearing her dreadful whispers in my moments of vulnerability, I know that soon enough, this voice will be completely silenced. I will no longer let how she treated me dictate how I feel about myself.
Molly Shannon Food Editor Have you ever wondered what the best Halloween candy of all time is? No? As Squidward Tentacles said, “Well...here you go.” Dots, Candy Corn, Skittles, Snickers, a rock, Reese’s Cups, Milky Way, and M&M’s competed in a poll I posted online, and the single-elimination tournament-style chart you see here illustrates just what went down in the competition. Dots were eliminated
dogs. Movie theater favorite Skittles was no match for the chocolatey, peanut-y temptation of Snickers. The rock, a choice Charlie Brown is familiar with, earned a pathetic two votes. Then
Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
Reese’s is the winner! Does anyone actually know who the genius was that gloriously of peanut butter? Family Guy once illustrated a theory in one of their episodes, so I’ve always assumed that their interpretation was true enough. Who cares? What matters is that chocolate and peanut made love, and their twin babies were each named Peanut Butter Cup. Their brown, yellow, and orange theme is iconic, and the brand has extended Fast Break, and Reese’s Minis. With 24,000 Twitter followers and 11 million “likes” on Facebook, Reese’s is clearly an American favorite, and now, a perfect Halloween candy.
Boo’d
Candy Crushed
15
Volume 73 Issue 10
Monday, October 28, 2013
LBUNION.COM
DISCLAIMER: Hey, God Warrior Here. My mama told me when I was young, I was born in the car. She pulled my head and put my pampers on in the back of the convertible. There’s something wrong with who I am. Send all your monsters to 1212 Bellflower Blvd Suite 239, Long Beach, CA 90815. This page is satire/parody/ jokes/funny and does not represent ASI nor the CSULB campus. In Gaga’s name, I pray you submit candies via email to grunion@lbunion.com. Rawwwwwr!
Vagina on the Skyline God Warrior chats with Jesus Nearly 69 years after its still lusty and crusty Now my friends, I will tell you the story of the rusty, custy vagina. 69 years ago, there was a virgin named Ethel Bildungsroman who lived by Dichael Dorris in Long Beach. Ethel was (Old Person) a virtuous woman, so she had saved herself to the bitter end. She was a true virgin, my friends; whenever she kissed, she only laid her dainty lips on her beloved’s cheeks for a fraction of a second. She would blush whenever a slightly suggestive joke was made in her presence. In addition to her morals, she had a pair of ginormous breasts that every man in her town would drool over. Many were willing to take her hand in marriage, but she waited until she was 19 to promise herself to her childhood friend, Harold Jameston. A week before her marriage, her bridesmaids dared her to skinny dip in the Naples channels. Seeing as it was in the middle of January, this was not a great idea. Ethel caught pneumonia and died six days later, the very night before she was supposed to get married. The community reeled from its loss and agreed that the saddest part of all was that she had never gotten to experience wild, Earth-shattering sex. Soon after her death, her family and friends pooled their money together to pay for a vagina sculpture to commemorate Ethel’s passing. Once it was campus, right above Ethel’s buried casket.
is that when Beth dies a horrible zombiewas lucky enough to have my own personal encounter with the Lord Our Savior, by God Warrior (Friends with Jesus)
me in a vision, which a lot of people attribute to heat stroke but I just attribute that to their heathen ways. Anyways, I was able to meet our savior. He had invited me to meet him on his home planet, which I gladly obliged, partly because my husband said it was an honor for me to bask in the
Donald Grover | Grunion Weekly
The statue brings happenis to many students on this campus.
Over the years, the vagina has grown rusty, representing Ethel’s untouched womanhood. There is a legend that states that, if you wash the vagina with a warm cheesecloth, Ethel will appear to blush at your image. If you stroke the vagina three times, Ethel will kiss you on the cheek. If you lick the good luck. So friends, I implore you to do one thing this spooktacular holiday: give the rusty, from it.
and also my husband had also been having trouble anointing me with the Holy Spirit. I’m talking about fucking people. Anyways, I was able to ride His holy rocket (also fucking) up to His sacred planet (also fucking), and was able to witness the glory of Our one Holy Lord and Savior. He was able to endow me with His Holiest of Spirit, and told me the gravest of news. First, He was in mourning of the ways of the human race. He had been His holy children had been taking part of. it clear that it was Adam and Eve, not Adam morals. Also He was really mad about the amount of people not watching Low Winter Sun like the new Sopranos. And you don’t even have to pay for it. It’s on the same channel as that wreck of a show The Walking Dead. Like,
INSIDE
tell you to start watching Low Winter Sun. like a goddamn man. Anything longer than six inches are khakis, and anything shorter about Europeans. Anyway, Low Winter Sun and lot of other things, but He told me to wait until the festival of Our Holy Lady Lorde to tell you the news. You must wait to receive the holy news reserved for royals. Only then will you receive gold teeth, grey goose, and all sorts of