67.04

ISSUE 67.04 KEVIN O’BRIEN Editor-in-Chief

ANDY KNEIS

Managing Editor

CLAY COOPER

Managing Editor

CHELSEA STEVENS Opinions Editor

NOAH KELLY

Campus Director

KATY PARKER Literature Editor

kevinob.union@gmail.com andyk.union@gmail.com clay.union@gmail.com chelsea.union@gmail.com noah.union@gmail.com katy.union@gmail.com

MARCO BELTRAN

marcob.union@gmail.com

SIMONE HARRISON

simone.union@gmail.com

Entertainment Editor & PR Music Editor & PR

CHRIS FABELA Comics Editor

cfab.union@gmail.com

MICHAEL MERMELSTEIN merm.union@gmail.com

KEVIN-SENT LETTERS TO AND FROM THE EDITORS

KEVIN O’BRIEN

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20 SEPTEMBER 2010

JEFF BRIDGES

jeffbridges.grun@gmail.com

CLAY COOPER

clay.union@gmail.com

Actor, Grunion Editor Art Director/Cover

JEFF CHANG

Head Illustrator

jeff.chang.art@gmail.com

CHRIS FABELA

On-Campus Distribution

ANDY KNEIS

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

his past week I was privileged to experience true public animosity. As I walked through the USU quad, I was greeted by a group of students armed with a petition calling for my immediate resignation. Their anger was the product of our last feature, entitled “How To Get Laid, A Girls’ Guide For Guys.”

My detractors claimed that we at the Union Weekly propagated a feature that supported rape and sexual aggression towards women and that I as Editor-in-Chief should resign for allowing such an article to be printed.

Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. The article was insightful and well-written, and my position as Editor-in-Chief could not be more secure, even in the wake of the tens of signatures they collected.

While they seemed to lack any notion of context, they certainly were cordial and expressed a number of arguments to which I provided the deftest defense I could muster. While I do not believe that we had a real dialogue, I was content that they were as able to express their opinions to me as I was to them. Furthermore, I am very gracious that they provided me with a feeling of accomplishment that my staff and I made an impact on the student body, however scurrilous they believed that impact to be. I can only equate the feel-

Culture Editor

Web Editor

ing to a cool rain, washing over my naked body on a humid day.

However, they were not alone: below you can read a letter from another student who presents similar arguments which is addressed by Managing Editor Andy Kneis and myself. On page three a more complete discussion of the specific reaction that the writers of last week’s feature received can be found. Also included is an anonymous and distinctly feminine voice of reason and rationality in praise of our feature, as unthinkable as that may be.

Also included are a few words of wisdom from a past Union Weekly editor and a voice of sanity calling for the return of the Sudoku puzzle.

I am a student at the University of California State Long Beach and i am utterly appalled by the derogatory content in this weeks issue How to Get Laid:A Girls Guide For Guys. As a woman I couldn’t be more offended by the lack of emotion for women about sex as you basically describe us as sex objects.

What is even worse is that by letting this article being published it is encouraging men to purposely attack intoxicated women who can not defend themselves.

After hoping she is on her third to fifth drink by the time she is approached it is said “...Just go straight to the fucking.. you don’t want to give her time to think

about it. Don’t be afraid to be agressive.”

This sounds very much like an unwanted assault. As Editor-in-Chief you should feel shameful for allowing such a thing to be printed. As for the authors of this article they should re-evaluate who they are as women because it is evident they have no clue about the violence against women that effects everyone including them.

- Abeni Moreno The reaction to this article, while understandable, has been very dissapointing. Sex is a sensitive topic, but by no means does that mean it can’t be discussed openly and even humorously among adults. We feel like many of the students, faculty, and staff who have reacted negatively have jumped to conclusions and resorted to personal attacks against the writers and editorial staff.

The Editor-in-Chief, Kevin O’Brien does feel great shame, but it’s mostly about his oddly proportioned body and rapidly receding hairline. However, we do not feel ashamed for allowing female writers to express themselves openly and frankly in the newspaper.

[Editor’s note: This response continues onto page three, along with other letters and their responses. Vaya con Dios!]

MARCO BELTRAN

Advertising Executive

marcob.union@gmail.com

Contributors: MIKE PALLOTTA, SEAN BOULGER, VICTOR CAMBA, BRIAN NEWHARD, PARKER CHALMERS, MATTHEW PALOZZI, COLLEEN BROWN, MATTHEW TOWLES, JANTZEN PEAKE, BRYAN WALTON, LUKE PERINE, JAMIE KARSON, LILY SEGURA, FOLASHADE ALFORD, ELISA TANAKA, JOHN HERRERA, OMAR ZAHZAH, LUCY NGUYEN, DEVIN O’NEIL, CONNOR O’BRIEN, STEPHANIE HERNANDEZ, ANNA KOZLOWSKI, KEENAN MACINNES, JOE HAUSER, SOPHI MAISE, NICHOLE DANIELS, AARON KOSAKA, STEPHANIE PEREZ, JEFF BAER, DEREK KOSKO, MARCOS BARRON, COREY LEIS, LANDON DAVAULT, JOE HAUSER, GABE FERREIRA, P.J KNEISEL, CHEYENNE DAY, STEVE BESSETTE, MARY FUHRMAN, RACHELE FRIEDLAND, DEVON GIEHI, LEO PORTUGAL, ALLISON O’DELL, JACKIE ROSAS, PATRICK MCNALLY, ADRIENNE SHULTZ, ALISON ERNST

Disclaimer and Publication Information The Union Weekly is published using ad money and partial funding provided by the Associated Students, Inc. All Editorials are the opinions of the writer, and are not necessarily the opinions of the Union Weekly, ASI, or of CSULB. All students are welcome and encouraged to be a part of the Union Weekly staff.

All letters to the editor will be considered for publication.

However, CSULB students will have precedence. All outside submissions are due by Thursday, 5 PM to be considered for publishing the following week and become property of the Union Weekly. Please include name, major, class standing, and phone number for all submissions. They are subject to editing and will not be returned. Letters may or may not be edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, and length.

The Union Weekly will publish anonymous letters, articles, editorials and illustrations, but must have your name and information attached for our records. Letters to the editor should be no longer than 500 words.

The Union Weekly assumes no responsibility, nor is it liable, for claims of its advertisers. Grievance procedures are available in the Associated Students business office.

Questions? Comments?

MAIL : 1212 Bellflower Blvd. Suite 239, Long Beach, CA 90815 PHONE : 562.985.4867 FAX : 562.985.8161 E-MAIL : lbunion.info@gmail.com WEB : lbunion.com

ISSUE 67.04

Furthermore, we fervently believe that what they wrote was a geniunely entertaining piece that has been taken out of context, and overanalyzed by detractors ready to point fingers and resort to ad hominem attacks, rather than discuss the issue in a respectful manner.

While we are not accusing you in any way, Miss Moreno, in addition to verbal and written aggresion towards our staff, we believe a number of our issues were stolen off the stands early in the week. We understand that you may have a difference in opinion, and obviously stealing free newspapers in no way compares to the emotional and physical trauma of sexual assault, but this criminal, irrational act, done out of frustration is predicated on the same emotions that drive the sexual abuse that many are accusing us of encouraging.

In short, the Union Weekly’s purpose is to propogate student opinion across the campus; however, it’s impossible to have a dialogue with those who are totally unwilling to hear our side, and fail to get past the preconcieved notions they’ve developed about us through a small sample of our work. In the future, we ask that you read our newspaper without the intention to find fault and find people to blame. The best we can do on any subject is open a dialogue and discuss the topic earnestly as adults. We fully support the feature that was written, and we feel no reason for shame or the need for reevaluation because we feel secure in the equal intelligence of our staff and our readers.

We can’t believe we even have to say this, but we in no way condone rape or sexual abuse, and we feel it is clear that what was written, when looked at with an open mind, in no way supports these criminal actions.

- Kevin O’Brien (Editor-in-Chief) and Andy Kneis (Managing Editor) In response to the overwhelming reaction to the feature I co-authored last week, I would first like to thank you for reading.

I would also like to apologize to anyone who was personally offended by the tone of the article. I speak for all three writers when I say this: in no way do we condone violence against women. In no way did we intend to promote sexism, date rape, or any other of the various horrible things we

have recently been accused of advocating.

With that said, I will also state that I am incredibly disappointed, perhaps even disheartened by the way many people chose to react to the situation. It was my hope that intelligent readers would successfully contextualize a piece of writing before making brash, emotionally-charged accusations, that they would think before they reacted.

The Union Weekly is widely known to be a source of entertainment, a student paper that is open to any number of opinions and beliefs. It makes no attempt to portray itself as a serious news source. Readers opened the feature at their own risk, and the fact that so many people jumped at the chance to become hateful in the name of feminist ideals is sickening. The Assistant to the Dean of one of the colleges on this campus emailed me a “fuck you” note. A petition to remove our incredible Editorin-Chief from his position was hastily thrown together. People described my intelligent, amazing co-authors and me as terrible examples of women, as vacuous subscribers to a misogynistic patriarchy.

Rather than attempting to create a dialogue about the issues at hand, people resorted to hurtful and uninformed action.

For those women who did show up to the meeting on Friday to talk to us directly, I appreciate and your respect your willingness to converse and to learn before taking action. To those people who provided positive feedback about the feature, I thank you and commend your ability to give the student body of readers more credit than to assume that each word of the feature would be taken literally. To everyone else, again, I apologize if you were offended, but with full consideration to the situation both as a woman and as a writer, I respectfully stand by my co-authors and what we have produced. Thank you.

- Katy Parker (Literature Editor) Good Evening, I rarely write to editors or provide any type of feedback, even on those surveys you get from like target to get 5 bucks off your next trip.....not really me, however after this article I felt so inclined to contact you because I see that you were one of the listed editors. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate this article. As a single female

in her twenties, I found myself shaking my head in agreement on every line. I know on surface this article will have its critics, specially I may assume feminists of all ages, or religious readers who don’t view sex or sexuality in the same way.....however to those certain strand of feminists, I say open your eyes! this article is a perfect example of a step towards burgeoning gender equality and giving a voice to the women who just want to get some ass too, and wanna show the guys what they need to do.....haha!

Anyways, I went off on a rant, but I just honestly wanted to tell you I loved the article and my regards to Katy Parker and Chelsea Stevens.

When we received your article on Saturday afternoon it was like a cool breeze blew through the office, forcing out all the repressing musk left behind after a recent visit by some folks from the Women’s Resources Center. Know that you are always welcome in the Union Weekly office and you have our eternal gratitude.

Hey Kevin, Matt here. Long time writer, first time reader. First of all, congrats on your recent brush with the morality police. I heard you were very nice about it. Next time though, just tell them to go read a constitution. Something along the lines of opinions and their relation to assholes, you know what i’m sayin?

Anywho, I read that enraged letter last week and I have three things to say about it, which I will not make a numbered list of (kinda trite, you feel me?). That rage-junkie ought to be writing for the union, seriously. Send that fuck an engraved invite. The campus needs more of that drunk uncle apoplexy. And since when is Bugs Bunny edgy? Did I miss a deleted scene in Space Jam? Is a “Left Turn at Albuquerque” prison slang for something? And lastly Kevin, if you want to express that you don’t give a fuck what someone thinks, try to keep your response under 100 words. Otherwise you just come off as butthurt and disingenuous. A simple “Fuck That Noise” will always suffice.

See you in Albuquerque, Matt D Judging by the lengthy response that Andy and I wrote to the first letter, we must appear, to you at least, to be both severely butthurt. And while I can see how the length

of a response could denote the degree to which we were personally affected by a letter, I must disagree that a lengthy letter is a less genuine one. I would posit that a longer response to a letter has the opportunity to be a more complete one as well as a more honest one. Actually, your letter reminds me of a humorous anecdote from my childhood FUCK THAT NOISE. - Kevin O’Brien (Editor-in-Chief) So what was the logic behind ditching the sudoku puzzles in the paper? I see that the crossword has made it back, but to be honest, crosswords are frustrating and just leave you feeling stupid after about three minutes of effort. Sudoku on the other hand, while still frustrating to some, leaves me feeling a little bit smarter after finishing. Without sudoku I’m left with two opions: either study for my class after putting it off by reading The Union or stare at the ceiling in the library Starbucks.

After spending the week defending the paper from the countless erroneous argument stemming from last week’s feature, it is a relative relief to address a legitimate complaint. And while any attempt at discussion with the feminist masses resembles an endless tunnel with the dimmest of flickering lights at the end, I can easily and assuredly appease you. If you turn to page fourteen you will find a fresh Sudoku waiting for you. Thank you for being so reasonable; you are truly a God among insects. But why should I force you to flip through so many comparatively mediocre pages when you can just have one right now? Drag your pretty eyes downward.

Ask Away!

Finished the paper but still have questions or comments, send them to the editor at kevinob.union@gmail.com!

UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

OPINIONS

A LESSON IN HUMOR

I MIGHT BE A BITCH, BUT AT LEAST I CAN LAUGH ABOUT IT CHELSEA STEVENS

L

OPINIONS EDITOR

oyal readers, I apologize that you’re only three pages into this week’s Union and have already been bashed over the head with taxing arguments and petty anger. Perhaps from these few pages you’ve experienced a taste of what we went through last week in response to our feature. My co-editors have already done a fantastic job of patiently iterating and reiterating our positions, and I don’t feel the need to add to their responses, but that doesn’t eliminate my utter frustration with humanity both within and outside the boundaries of this experience.

A little nugget of information that continues to resurface in my life as of late is that people on the extreme ends of any spectrum are ridiculously annoying. It is seriously exhausting to listen to people who care about something so much, and I think I’ve recently discovered why: humor doesn’t exist to them. Humor is an entirely

foreign concept, like the Islamic religion to Fox News or Creationism to me. Humor boils inside them like xenophobia, and they can’t help but to not only question its merit, but to reject it in its entirety at the mere smell of it coming. This is the only explanation I can muster for the ridiculous and irrational reactions received daily by every satire-producing medium in the world. This is the only way I can imagine someone reading the hilarious and painfully obvious sarcasm we wrote last week and somehow coming to the conclusion of equating it to rape.

I do understand that senses of humor differ from one individual to another, and they’re usually relative to the amount of hardships suffered by each person and their ability to cope with them. Sadly, those with fewer humor-receptors are often all too quick to find fault in those who can find laughter in the world’s most desolate places. Without

these few, prized individuals who can make humanity’s most depressing imperfections funny, there would be a lot more violence, insanity, murder, and, you guessed it, rape.

Humor makes the most excruciating of times bearable, the most confusing of situations comprehensible, and has the uncanny ability to bring light to society’s most painful truths that would otherwise be entirely ignored.

The primary mistake these extremists make is believing that a person’s sense of humor proportionally relates to their conscience or worth as a human being.

They can’t seem to understand that my ability to find humor in life’s troubles doesn’t mean I want to participate in them or inflict them on others. You are no better than me for believing laughter is an inappropriate antidote to life’s maladies; it only makes you more angry, depressing, and frustrating, and probably gives you higher blood pressure on top of it all.

After hours of useless banter and unnecessary explanations, one loses the desire to defend themselves. It’s sad that fighting such a tedious battle can cause the wrong side to win. Sisyphis has my sympathies more than ever at the moment. The squeaky wheel always gets the grease, but unfortunately in this case and far too many more, the wheel is the forgotten one in the back of the garage from my old bike I sold on Craigslist last year. So here, you loud, useless, fucking annoying old wheel wasting the world’s time and space, here is your grease. I hope you’re satisfied.

I’M NOT YOUR FUCK BUDDY, GUY

A RESPONSE TO THE FEATURE THAT DOESN’T INCLUDE BASHING ITS AUTHORS SOPHI MAISE CONTRIBUTOR

I saw a lot, A LOT, of guys reading last week’s feature. At first it seemed funny, the same way that women in supermarkets pick up the fashion magazine that features the most ways to “rock his world” (tip: it probably involves his balls). Only 30 this week, Cosmo? Pick up Glamour instead. Suddenly I became aware of the large demographic of men who are utterly confused as to “how to get laid,” a group which normally manages to stay under my radar, I imagine, out of bloodcurdling girl-fear. As the bookish gents in my Introduction to Philosophy class have yet to launch an introduction into flirting, time will tell as to the power of the article.

But this isn’t just about how pathetically shy this demographic is, it’s also about the one

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thing that they all had in common. They want fuck buddies.

That’s right, without fail, their eyes were locked onto the “Fuck Buddies” section of the article. The first guy I saw reading it, I sort of noted that he was carefully studying the blue column with particular interest.

Then I saw another guy doing the same.

Then another. As anecdotal and unscientific as it was, there was a clear pattern here.

So, guys eager to make fuckacquaintances, why is that? Did the “Hit it and Quit it” section seem like too much work? Maybe it just seemed improbable or poor economic sense to wrangle multiple women into bed? Did “The Holy Grail” (relationship) section seem boring? Maybe

it was too demanding? I don’t mean to judge you as buddy-fuckers, I’m just curious. I’m beyond curious; I’m fascinated. I learned from that angry letter last week that you all hate it when we, the non-straight and/ or non-men, make grand assumptions about straight men (yeah, that was a grand assumption I just made about straight men), but come on. You’re really not that unique, and you’re not that unpredictable.

Nobody is. Get over it.

Whatever your reasons, boys, keep in mind that most of you aren’t going to find a no-strings-attached fuck buddy (at least not a female one). And the next time you hear a woman pining over some black-and-white film star, maybe you’ll understand why. Sure,

it’s a little silly to pine after Clark Gable, but at least that guy knew what he wanted and went after it, damn the consequences. He wasn’t just trying to find an arrangement that would give him regular sex without cutting into his videogame time.

So, because you guys love being told what to do to get laid, here is my addition to the “how to get laid” plan: reach down into your pants and grab your balls. The next time you’re afraid of rejection, or of intimacy, or of commitment, remember that you’re supposed to be the one with the balls. And if you really want to impress a woman worth impressing (that’s not me, don’t send me letters), you’re going to need every bit of them, pal.

THE ART OF BEING

OPINIONS

HOW OPENING YOUR EYES OPENS YOUR MIND STEVE BESSETTE CONTRIBUTOR

Sometimes I feel like everything in life is kind of swirling around our heads like this sick, twisted tornado trying to fuck us into mindless submission. Something is pounding down on us and filling us up with too much stuff. Now not all this “stuff ” is necessarily bad, but I know for me, sometimes enough is enough. What I’m talking about is all the external and internal pieces of our lives that keep us busy and moving forward in this continual free fall. We can get to be so complacent and set in autopilot, it’s as if we’re swimming along in a lesser, more non-reflective consciousness than we think.

We have part-time and full time jobs, classes here and there, projects needing our piece of the puzzle, friends and family grabbing at us for quality time, and all those plus more are undoubtedly essential to our individual lives. We’ve also memorized T9 enough to text and drive without taking our eyes off the road, our ears are constantly being pumped with this latest album from this latest band since Pitchfork says it’s that good; I won’t even dare to jump into the astoundingly behemoth jaws of the world wide web, and there’s all that petty shit we do just because, well, we just do it. Our time is so filled up with “everything” that it can slip by unnoticed.

There is no quick fix for this voluntary predicament, but I’d like to bring up a simple point that I’m sure you’ve heard before: Why not just be quiet? Just relax for

Illustration

BRYAN WALTON UNION STAFFER

a bit, you know? Look around you. When was the last time you sat and looked? That’s all, just sat and thought about things, or even thought about nothing.

When was the last time you observed and wondered? No iPod, no phone, no place to be, no work to do, just being. Take a chill pill. Brew yourself a cup of French Roast and look out the window. Hop the D bus to Belmont Shore and kick it at the beach. Sit on a park bench with a friend and genuinely listen to what they have to say. Lie down by the shady trees outside the University Art Museum. You get the idea. Enjoying these kinds of moments can take you outside of yourself and give you a break. It could maybe even realign your vision to get back into the conscious state of realizing what’s around you and where you’re going.

Now, priorities are priorities. Bills inevitably need to be paid, you need to study in order to bitch slap your exams, and organizing your time wisely is a skill that you’ll need until your peeps shove your saggy ass into the cheapest nursing home down the block. I’m not saying we should throw all of our crap off a cliff; it’s more of a seize-the-moment kind of thing. Look, if you think this isn’t ideal and just some stupid fantasy and the real world doesn’t friggin’ work like this, then at least listen to Ferris Bueller, because everybody loves him: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” I concur, Bueller. I concur.

WOMEN HAVE MUSCLES TOO BRINGING WOMEN’S EQUALITY TO EVERDAY LIFE ALISON ERNST CONTRIBUTOR

I absolutely hate it when guys hold doors open for me. I don’t mind the gesture of one human being doing something kind for another, but I detest the sense of obligation involved. Society deems it necessary for a man to hold the door open for a woman, but not the other way around. We women are strong, independent individuals with the muscles to open a door, and even hold it open long enough for someone else to saunter through. It is the worst when I am trying to hold the door open for a guy and he insists on holding it himself, forcing me to awkwardly do the limbo under his sweaty armpit. Gross.

Men have proven themselves to be loveable, affectionate, sweet, and sometimes

even loyal companions, but some have yet to catch up with females in terms of how we are perceived. There is still the looming glass ceiling, because apparently some people still believe women are not capable of holding positions of great power. This viewpoint of inequality is held in great numbers across our nation, but I have yet to determine if there is blatant sexism on the campus of CSULB. I once fought with one of my teachers over his obvious sexism in high school when he decided that a book report topic was suitable for young men, but was “inappropriate” for a “young lady” to choose. Why even provide that option if over half the class was not allowed to pick it?

Now, there are some enlightened men in

our community who treat females as equals.

As a feminist, I don’t ask for elite treatment, merely equality. I want to be considered on the same playing field and not have my brilliant ideas dismissed on the sheer basis that I am a woman. I don’t believe that society as a whole can ever be considered truly enlightened until a female president is elected. We are getting close with women like Nancy Pelosi, the Speaker of the House. But I want a legitimate female president who rises up because she pushed herself, not because she fed off the attention of her husband or is able to see Russia from her house.

And hey, since when are women too poor to split the cost of dinner and a movie?

We can afford numerous pairs of shoes and

cute purses, yet not split the cost of a $40 date? I appreciate the male gesture to take care of the costs, but honestly it makes me feel bad. We need to rise up and destroy this perception of society that men need to pay for everything. It isn’t fair. Women and men should share the burden of high priced movie tickets and expensive dinners equally.

Society may try to tell us what we should do, but who says we have to listen?

Our generation should rebel and start a status quo of equality in all aspects. So if you see me strolling up to a door, prop it open if you want to be nice, but don’t feel obligated to do anything because you’re a dude. I’d gladly hold a door open for you or split the cost of a date.

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CAMPUS

NOTABLE SPEAKERS GO LISTEN TO PEOPLE WHO KNOW MORE THAN YOU DO STEVE BESSETTE UNION STAFFER

DEBORAH ROWE

R

SECRETARY OF CITY AFFAIRS

ight off the bat I’m going to say that the Notable Speaker Series is definitely not for everyone. The “discussion” wasn’t necessarily boring, but I would really only suggest it to those interested in business and leadership oriented careers, as well as anyone looking for advice and real-life examples of management and successful team-building.

The speakers of last Thursday’s lecture, ex-Long Beach mayor Dr. Beverly O’Neill and her biographer, Harry Saltzgaver, only indulged in slight conversation throughout the night.

I use the word “slight” because there really was hardly any back-and-forth, speaker-on-speaker chatting going on.

Most of the night consisted of a quick question here and there that would propel one of them into a lengthy, yet thorough and insightful answer. I think the event as a whole would have been a bit more enthralling and engaging if there was more conversing, either be-

tween O’Neill and Saltzgaver, or even with a mediator to keep the topics going in a perpetual and altogether more interesting arc. After an hour or so, a mediator finally went up to the small stage where they were stationed and opened the floor for audience Q&A. The Q&A was short lived in order to make time for the book signing, which was a bad choice in time management, since the few questions that were asked rendered some of the most profound thoughts from the speakers.

In terms of content, many of the themes discussed were those such as communication between humanity, finding the importance of peoples’ relevance, and mostly, the struggles of adversity and the strength of positive ideology during such times. Though my possible choices for future careers are far from anything corporate or management related, there were indeed a few things mentioned that really did strike me. For example, a point

Dr. O’Neill made about how being a boss and being a leader are not the same thing. Regardless of whether attending these events would improve your focus and vision in the business community or what-have-you, perhaps attending at least one could give you something to think about.

All in all, the Notable Speaker Series has great appeal for the aforementioned future leaders, but with the way things went on Thursday, it would be a tough couple of hours for those who have only minor interest. The next speaker is Long Beach alum Alison Fleming, a financial planner who will be discussing “Seeking Opportunities in Uncertain Markets” on October 14th. Each lecture, held in CBA-139A, lasts from 7pm to 9pm, but only 125 seats are available, so if you plan on attending, go to the CBA homepage and click on the Notable Speaker Series link to register. http://www.csulb.edu/colleges/cba/nss/

IS YOGO A NO GO?

FROZEN YOGURT RESTAURANT WILL HAVE TO START MIXING IT UP NOAH KELLY CAMPUS EDITOR

YoGo frozen yogurt is a one-of-akind restaurant on campus that combines clean, self-service yogurt and the ability to mix and match your toppings and flavors. But this rare breed of restaurant might go from endangered to extinct. “We ran out of money last semester,” says Store Manager Joe Fabozzi.

The main money problem for YoGo revolves around the lack of foot traffic and visibility from being placed in the USU Courtyard. “I am absolutely certain that the failure to draw up business is of no fault of our company,” says Joe in regards to the amount of compliments he receives from students and faculty about their products, service and facilities. Even when Sbarro’s cornered the market on the SOAR students over the summer, YoGo did not receive any added exposure due to students being kept on such a tight schedule.

What was supposed to be a captive audience of some 35,000 students has turned into much less due to YoGo’s secluded nature. And with the winter coming, frozen yogurt isn’t something UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

Joe expects to be a hit. Joe hopes to add in new elements to the restaurant while still keeping the main theme of creating your own styled meal. Soups and hot chocolates are what Joe is thinking about right now. Joe, who conducts impromptu surveys from students who purchase YoGo, feels confident in adding different types of food to the menu. “[YoGo] cannot survive on just selling cold foods,” Joe says. Thus far, no specific flavors have been decided on, but Joe has been experimenting creating different flavored hot chocolates. “I made an almond mocha flavor. It was phenomenal,” Joe says. YoGo has many different flavored syrups that go into making the frozen yogurt that Joe says can easily be re-purposed to flavor different kinds of hot chocolates. Even hot chocolate that tastes like red velvet is possible.

The most important goal of YoGo staying in business is to bring in more foot traffic, but unlike Yogurt Land or Pinkberry, YoGo never has the potential to reach out to new audiences. The same 35,000 students who move through the

campus one week are the same ones who will be moving through campus in the next. This is not the case for a business situated down on 2nd street, which could receive traffic from all over the Southern California area on any given day. Attempts to bring more off-campus exposure for YoGo have been stymied by difficult parking situations and the lack of accessibility. But still, Joe isn’t going to give up. Joe has been turning to alternate means to get the word out about YoGo’s location. One of his tactics so far has been to employ different guerrilla marketing schemes, like placing YoGo business cards up and down a specific pathway on campus, or working with KBeach radio to help promote the name.

Only time will tell if the coming winter will see students warming themselves with a nice bowl of broccoli and cheddar [editors note: my favie], or cup of hot chocolate with their favorite toppings sprinkled all over. However, while the days are still hot, get your frozen yogurt while you can; it might not be around in the spring.

With campaign season in full effect and the November election on the horizon, the climate on Cal State Long Beach’s campus could not be further from the electricity felt in many of the most politically active campuses. In Long Beach, students carry on with their daily business, commuting to and from campus, getting naps in between classes, and focusing on the cultivation of their own minds and personal relationships.

Only when the powers-that-be create something to scream about, fee increases, furloughs, inadequate resources, do students become mobilized.

Last year, the California state budget’s higher education cuts and other financial woes took a toll on the heart and soul of the California universities, the students. In response, students united and made the issue a matter of importance by participating in the March 4th “Rally for High Education” and in the CSULB-led “More Than Numbers Campaign.” There were also victories along the way, including the removal of predatory banks from the federal student loan program with the Student Loan reform.

This year the fight continues on with voter registration, a joint effort between the various branches of ASI, college councils, housing, faculty, and the California State Student Association (CSSA). By bringing students to the polls we have the opportunity to express our opinion not only by picking up a poster, but at the voting booth.

The 23 CSU campuses that make up CSSA have pledged to register at least 10% of each campus’ population in a system-wide effort to mobilize voters — roughly amounting to 4,000 students.

What is at stake in the upcoming November 2nd election are nine propositions dealing with everything from legalizing and taxing marijuana (Prop 19) to redistricting (Prop 27) to amending the way to approve state spending and taxes (Prop 25), among numerous other issues. Although the biggest issue that is at stake is your representation. By being registered and being active, the folks up in Sacramento will be forced to hear what you have to say as you have the power to eject them from office. You have the power to make decisions that can change the way California and higher education is run, why not use it?

Not registered yet? Voter registration will be available until October 18th at select campus events and in USU-311 along with debates, events, and discussions that will help educate student voters. It is time to let the legislators know that higher education matters by mobilizing student voters on Election Day. This isn’t a purely political issue; it’s a personal one, tied strongly to our future and the future of higher education. Becoming a voting member of society not only gives you a voice at the polls, but also shows legislators in Sacramento that we are not laying dormant while they run our education into the ground. Make registering to vote a matter of importance and a matter of your future. Make yourself more than a number and vote this November.

CHELSEA STEVENS

F

OPINIONS EDITOR

or the existence of civilization as we know it, desperate times have called for desperate measures. Decrepit economy means fewer jobs, fewer jobs means less money, and less money means more crime.

It’s clearly spelled out in every gangster rap song of the 90s.

As the past two years have seen some of the worst economic conditions in the last century of America’s history, our crime rates should be rising proportionally. However, according to the FBI’s recent release of 2009’s national crime rates, history has been proven wrong. Despite the gravity of our current recession and its palpable impact on our daily lives, America’s national crime rates have actually decreased. Offenses in violence, which include murder, forcible rapes, robbery, and aggravated assault, have dropped 5.5%. Murders went down a further 7.2%. Property crimes (burglaries, larceny, motor vehicle theft and arson) have decreased 4.9%, as opposed to the mere 0.8% drop the year before. Street-level drug trafficking has also stayed at a minimum in this economic downturn, unlike the crack cocaine epidemic that corresponded with the slight recession of the 1980s. These unusual contrasts in ratios are only exacerbated by our dire conditions in unemployment and debt: the nation’s unemployment rate hit double digits last October for the first time in 26 previous years.

The majority of law-enforcement and historical crime experts are stumped as to the true cause of this quelling of crime in such pressing times. Many believe the movement’s primary weapon is the adapting techniques and technology of today’s officers, who are now able to use video surveillance and other preventive systems that are simple and inexpensive. Police forces have also made a point to focus primarily on the areas and individuals known to be causing trouble, leading to a direct reduction in theft and prostitution.

Unfortunately for those of us who were hoping to have our chance at felony this recessional season, 2009’s crime rates tell us we’re out of luck -- but that doesn’t stop us from dreaming. Here are a few of the daring thoughts and schemes from the Union’s most diabolical minds.

UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

I’ve never committed a crime. I am like a baby angel Jesus and my mom is very proud, if you were wondering. Who the heck has the time to be going around making crimes in this economy anyway? Honestly it’s pretty sickening that this feature is promoting the committing of crimes. Frankly, that’s illegal.

Crimes are against the law.

I would like to take my allotted space for this feature to warn anyone that is reading this article that I in no way condone crimes.

For reference, a crime can be things such as murder, punching, releasing feathers from your car window, and others. Please do not do these crimes. You should not commit a crime ever.

I was once the victim of a crime, and I would like to summon the courage now to talk about it, so that others might learn from my experience. One day I was enjoying a wholesome, crime-free game of mini-golf.

I was enjoying the Tiki Hut when I saw an awful man at the Windmill hole. He was attempting to hit his ball past the blades of the windmill and through the little arch at the bottom so he may enjoy the sweet taste of victory by getting his golf ball in the hole on the other side. However, that day, the only taste present was the taste of swears and crime. The man continued to attempt to help his ball find its home, but he was unable to. I saw his frustration building, but as a person that never judges (judgment: a possible crime?), I gave the ruffian idiot the benefit of the doubt.

In an act that shocked every person on the golf course (me), the man uttered a curse word. I will not repeat which one but it’s the third worst one there is. Due to my encyclopedic knowledge of laws, I knew that swearing on a golf course is a big crime in the city of Long Beach. I called the cops immediately since I had already dialed 9 and 1, so I just had to press the last 1 once the guy swore. I had to leave the scene immediately and take a shower, but I am sure that the police swiftly arrested the man.

Thanks to my action, the world is safe from one criminal, but with the advent of television and motorcycles, crimes are everywhere now. Do yourself a favor and do not support crimes and criminals, don’t read this.

I had the rare opportunity to play the villain in reality this week. For a select group of men and women, students, faculty and staff I was the architect of a great evil, as well as the target for their frothing and feministic hatred. I loved it. I lapped it up.

And at the end of the week I was looking for more; more attention, more controversy, and more contempt.

I experienced sheer glee as I bathed in their collected fear and anger. With this in mind I would, hypothetically of course, aspire to commit a crime of magnitude, an act that could only be described as a catastrophe. Even more important than the scale of the devastation caused is the sense of theater and drama that accompanies the event. I would want a certain level of shock and awe to be followed by a wave of disbelief fueling a destructive backlash of misunderstanding and fear. Riots should break out on otherwise docile streets in the wake of my crime.

Sensible and rational people would switch their political party affiliations from Democratic to Republican, driven to nationalism out of fear for their life and liberty. Hundreds of millions of individual appetites should be put off as millions of family dinners are ruined upon hearing of my act.

My ruinous act would have to attract the attention of the media. A few days before the event I would alert them and the collective 24-hour news cycles of CNN, MSNBC, and FOX would be dedicated to me. Fox News in particular would point to my action as signs of the coming apocalypse and urge people to begin to fast and pray for absolution from the coming judgment.

People are fond of their children, right?

I would kidnap the children of America and do something with them. Take them to Antarctica and hold them. Wait, this is starting to sound like the plot of the Golden Compass.

That movie was not nearly menacing enough.

What would the American people really hate? I would take the children to Antarctica and I would teach them Islam. Each night I would read from the Qu’ran and teach them the very reasonable and appropriate teachings of Mohammad. We don’t even want to tolerate a “mosque” in the general vicinity of Ground Zero, and that “mosque,” isn’t even a “mosque,” it’s a community center. Lesson is people are stupid.

I was really feeling the recession in spring, right around April. I looked around and saw all my family and friends getting hassled by the Man and feeling depressed every day, but no one was getting angry at the bills they had to pay. I decided it was time to break out of this pacifist shell and participate in some anarchy.

I figured the liquor store would be the best place to start the havoc, seeing as I’d probably need some alcohol to help me get through what I was about to do. I strolled up to 1934 E. Anaheim, a little place owned by the Vietnamese guy who always sells to my underage friends, and demolished its windows with my baseball bat. I used the bat to coerce a bum into letting me borrow his shopping cart and then filled it to the brim with Four Lokos and Natty Light. I was picking out some special sparkling wine to bring back to my mom when I heard sirens wailing down the street – the po-pos had caught on to my wily schemes. I chucked a hand grenade through the hole I’d put in the window and that shithole burned to the ground faster than Bill Cosby’s career.

I was pretty exhausted after all that crime activity, so I went back to the house to unload the car and gather my thoughts. As I plopped down on my couch, I remembered my roommate’s boyfriend had drunkenly passed out on it and peed himself a couple weeks ago. Disgusted, I sat up and looked around the room, realizing that most of my living room’s furnishings looked like they’d fallen out of Mary Poppin’s carpetbag. I shoved it all onto the curb and hopped on the 405 to bust a cap in the ass of Carson Ikea. The coffee table I stole there fell apart a few weeks later, but my new couch and recliner set was comfy and affordable. The meatballs I ordered on my way out were pretty excellent too.

Once I got back to our humble city, I found my daring crimes had sparked a rebellious fire in the citizens of Long Beach.

Guitar Center had been completely cleaned out in my absence, and I even witnessed a mom teaching her kids to steal Pampers. I almost felt bad for influencing my neighbors in such horrendous ways, until I remembered what these crazy times meant to me.

It’s not about money or race; that’s all the same in the end. It’s about screaming one eight seven on a mother fuckin’ cop.

The main problem with sloths is that they’re too small, and too small time. They’re trainable, violent, and have a penchant for petty crime. But if you need a bigger score, well, you need bigger sloths. Where else can you get bigger sloths? Well the past, that’s where. Giant sloths used to roam the landscape, murdering, stealing, and eating anything they wanted, but eventually they just got sleepy and slept to death. My plan was to go back in time and retrieve these giant sloths in their prime, and bring them back to the present time. After months of training and preparing, we were ready for the big leagues. No more robbing drug stores because that dork at the check stand wouldn’t sell me more than one bottle of Robutussin, no more only slightly maiming people who disagree with my opinions and puns, no more Mr. Nice Sloth Lord. We had our sights set on The Hope Diamond, and we were gonna get it. Who is gonna stand up to a giant army of sloths?

Well, as you may have been aware already, sloths are fickle in nature. Sometimes they want to do something, sometimes they don’t. What they didn’t want to do this time was stick to the fucking plan. After hopping themselves up on Crystal Method (the band, not the drug), they were pretty pumped, too pumped as a matter of fact. They couldn’t do their usual slow crawl through the motion detecting instruments, they had to waltz in there like they owned the place. That was the goal, to own the place, but it hadn’t happened yet. The god damn sloths were greedy too! That was not the sin I signed up for when I hired these giant three toed mongoloids. The sloths ransacked the Natural History museum and left me up shit creek without a backup plan, and the alarms were going off like you wouldn’t believe. Not all of us can climb any given surface and escape through the sky-light, you jerkbag sloths. So the alarm went off, the sloths scattered and escaped with a bunch of stupid rocks that are worthless, a giant sloth skeleton (I think Spunky thought it was one of his relatives), a pound of rock candy from the gift store, and my heart. Now I’m in prison, because of those fucking sloths. Only Chuckles visits.

I don’t know where my fascination with coke came from. I have never touched the stuff, but if I were to turn evil, my crime spree would have to center around making a blizzard out of our great nation. Every time I read Brett Easton Ellis I take his strong warning of the depravity-surrounding blow as a challenge, a dare if you will. Every boring dinner Clay Bateman (From Less Than Zero) has with his family, sneaking bumps under the table as his life glides on into oblivion sparks excitement and jealousy in my head.

Spurring me on in my quest to become the cocaine kingpin of Long Beach is a book written by a potential relative of mine, Max Mermelstein (unfortunately probably a pseudonym). The Man Who Made it Snow is a tell-all biography revealing the inner workings of the Colombian drug cartel. I guess the first step towards any successful international drug smuggling ring is to leave the country and work your way through the Colombian underground. My Spanish isn’t up to snuff, and earning the trust of the famously trigger-happy, paranoid, drug world sounds daunting to say the least.

But from there it should be easy, making contacts with American suppliers should be as easy as making nice with the shitty hippy kids on campus. Then my career will be on the up and up. My Scarface fantasy life begins. (Optional, bankroll a lucrative rap career). From there, committing crimes on an international scale will be a daily occurrence, running a prostitution ring, selling cocaine to tweenagers, killing my enemies, rapping about my fictional yacht. But to be honest, if step one of your plan to success is leaving the country, why not just disappear?

Coke’s probably cheaper elsewhere anyway, and in today’s futuristic world, I can launch a rap career from my laptop in the Caymans.

I could start by attacking another rapper’s cred, and possibly ‘swagger,’ all from the comfort of my beach-side shack. Copyright infringe the shit out of top 40 and make a mixtape where I rap over every beat. Sure I would make half the money I would make as coke-dealer, I wouldn’t have as much fun living the dream, but my life expectancy would rise dramatically, and I would still be breaking a ton of international laws.

I would start on my birthday, December 8, by adopting a puppy from the local animal shelter—probably a Cocker Spaniel or a Dalmatian, depending on my mood or on how depressed the animal looks inside its cage—and name it Boo, and feed it every day, four times a day, for five months, marking the days off on my calendar with little heart faced dogs all leading up to Earth Day, which I would celebrate by drinking five beers at my favorite bar before heading home to see my little puppy, Boo. That night me and Boo will have so much fun as I prepare a nice meal of kibble and sneak him/her a slice of sausage so that he/she can go to bed nice and full. As the clock ticks on, and my little Boo falls asleep comfortably on his/her memory foam bed like such a good, cute little puppy, I’ll walk over to him and stroke his/her soft fur so I can watch his/her little tail beat furiously against the side of his bed. Just as he’s/she’s about to close his/her eyes to dream about what a great Earth Day this was and his/her epic adventures with the Bacon King in the land of Tenderloin, I’ll reach my up to his/ her sweet little neck and squeeze until I hear a little pop. That’s when you know it’s time to stop.

It’s fun like popcorn. You wait a few minutes until it starts making popping sounds, which in my opinion is the best part of popcorn, and you can dance to it if you want. As I carry his/her limp body to the kitchen table, I’ll remember that I forgot to get the knife from my car—I can be a little forgetful at times and this is one thing I know with certainty that I will forget, but I’ll try to keep it out in the open, so that when the time comes I won’t spend time looking for it—so that I can cut across his belly and wrap his entrails around my arm and neck like one of those crazy boa things that are like fuzzy scarves.

I always loved those when I was younger because they tickled your neck a little when you moved. After emptying out his bowels, and separating each organ into Ziploc bags so that I can save them for later when I feed bits and pieces to the school kids that live in my area, I’ll take some cool glamour shots and make a scrapbook so that I can remember my best friend, Boo. UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

MUSIC

THE WALKMEN NEW YORK INDIE FAVORITES PLAY AT THE HENRY FONDA THEATRE IAN RANDOLPH

A

UNION STAFFER

mongst people who I’ve pretended to like: rats, and 19-year-old kids with the same dumb haircut from 1960, The Walkmen concert was a successfully intimate attempt to complement their old country, post-modern sound with the historical environment of the Henry Fonda Theatre. Being a New York based band, you would think they would have felt a little out of place, but with a strong fan base including the kid next to me yelling, “I FUCKING LOVE THE WALKMEN” every 5-10 minutes, it was safe to say they felt right at home.

The Walkmen’s frontman with the withered, yet golden mouthpiece, Hamilton Leithauser smoothly commanded the stage with a boyishly coy attitude. However, his reserved and modest display of appreciaUNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

PHOTOS

Attiyah KHAN

tion to his fans didn’t limit him. With one hand in his pocket and one foot occasionally kicking off dust, Hamilton presented the demeanor of a veteran drifter. Wearing his trademark gold buttoned yacht club inspired sports jacket contrasting with his silver Timex watch, you could place his swag in the GQ section under “timeless.”

The show was effortlessly consistent, as they played a plethora of easily debatable favorites ranging from albums such as Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me is Gone to their newly released and respectfully reviewed Lisbon. Never ones to shy away from change, they surprised the audience every time with their unpredictable order of songs while maintaining in tranquility. Even when the masterful Matt Barrick was erratically turn-

ing the drums into a submissive bitch, their “without a sweat” effort and display of trust showed that nothing could slow them down.

As they finished playing “Four Provinces” during the ending segment of their set, it seemed like nothing could break their cool.

It wasn’t until the 15 “I FUCKING LOVE THE WALKMEN” vocal Facebook posts provided by my best friend (not really, fuck that guy), was when the band all stopped settling into the next song and Hamilton patronizingly laughed followed by “You guys are great, thank you for coming out,” leaving everyone with anticipation, confusion, and transpiring thoughts of jumping the obnoxious fan as they left the stage. After much chanting and “Brandy Alexander” rumors surfacing in case they did come back to play

one more song, The Walkmen came back as non-verbally promised. Instead of telling the audience they came up with a punishment for the deranged fan to my right, they simply responded to his annoyingly thoughtful comments by playing “The Rat” and lastly “All Hand and The Cook.”

You would have thought Hamilton summoned the vengeful and unforgiving dead on the man’s poor soul, as the lights immediately transitioned from black to purple to dark and smoky. After they finished playing two victoriously bleak songs, The Walkmen gave thanks and exited backstage leaving the crazed fan speechless for once. The concert was a clean get-away for The Walkmen, showing no flaws, only left prints of a memorable night.

MUSIC

“How It Ends” by Devotchka Crime: You ended the world

“Camel” by Flying Lotus Crime: The big heist

“Bull Black Nova” by Wilco Crime: of Passion

“911” by Delta Spirit Crime: White Collar

Well, you fucked up, big time. You pressed the button and started World War 3, which will be over as soon as it was started thanks to our advanced nuclear weapons. With the air riddled with missiles, you’ve got exactly seven minutes to contemplate the end with this mournful acceptance of fate. Nothing means anything anymore, “and you already know/ yeah, you already know how it will end.” If your particular location on Earth doesn’t become a huge crater spewing the dust of cities and people, maybe you can slowly die from the radiation and get what you deserve.

Look at you, Danny Ocean, you’ve got a team of specialists together and now you’re explaining the master plan. This is 2010, and we don’t organize big heists with cool jazz swings as background music anymore.

It has the perfect balance of lows and highs that conveys the suspense and success of each step being executed perfectly. This trip-hop beat will be a much more updated way to show off smart and suave. From the beginning to the pouring of celebratory wine afterwards, this track will provide the swagger you need. Good luck robbing that casino or whatever.

You’re just an average person, and then some traumatizing event comes your way that you are most definitely not prepared for. He is cheating on you with someone younger and more nubile, or he just took the job you’ve been working so hard to attain. So you run him down with your car or maybe you don’t remember because you blacked out and came to only to find that there’s “blood on the sofa/ blood on the sink/ blood in the trunk.” Naturally, you panic and do a terrible job of dumping the body somewhere and cleaning the scene. The authorities will know you did it in a matter of time.

You’re already up to your balls in hundred dollar bills, but you just can’t get enough. You’ve got the yacht, the beachfront properties in both hemispheres, and the nicest material possessions that can be legally purchased. This song was written in a folk fashion that mostly condemns your capitalistic tendencies but instead of feeling bad, you just laugh and chomp your cigar Some of the accusations thrown at you are your poor judgment of the stock market and the misguidance of the youth into wars, both of which brought financial gain. When the final line asks, “Do you even care?” you sure as hell don’t. Laugh it up, you fat pig.

CRIME TUNES IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A SOUNDTRACK TO COMMIT A CRIME TO, LOOK NO FURTHER KEENAN MACINNES UNION STAFFER

“Bodysnatchers”

by Radiohead Crime: Big Robbery Lyrically this song has nothing to do with crime, but the rhythm is enough to give anyone the adrenaline rush needed to go guns blazing into a bank or jewelry store. Wait for that opening bass riff to get you psyched, then burst in the door. I guarantee while you have this song blaring you will get in and get out a lot quicker and a lot richer, hopefully without too much resistance from those pesky cops. If you do get gunned down in a shootout, it’s still a pretty good song to die to as well.

“John Wayne Gacy Jr.”

by Sufjan Stevens CRIME: Serial Murderer While this song is particularly about the infamous Illinois serial killer who dressed as a clown and killed children he had kidnapped, the mood it strikes should fit your particular M.O. Serial killing isn’t about the brutal murder of your specific targets, but living out what you can no longer leave as just fantasy. It’s just straight up creepy, and as you sit there eating the flesh or taking a limb from your latest victim, you can’t help but feel that tingle of excitement.

“Ten Cent Pistol”

by The Black Keys Crime: Female Revenge Everyone knows that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. This goes especially for a woman armed with a cheap pistol waiting for her unfaithful lover to slip. This bluesy rock jam illustrates everything pretty clearly. “There’s nothing worse/ in this world/ then payback from a/ jealous girl.” Not only did she shoot her man, but the girl her man was with. That will teach them to tarnish her good name.

“Repeater Beater”

by Mew Crime: All out rampage School sucks? Hate your job? Has everything that kept you stable disappeared?

Are you convinced that you’ve lost everything? It seems you’re on track to purchase your first firearm and just completely lose it. You’re already planning to go down but you’re going to take a few good innocent people with you. So make your final arrangements, crank this track to full and do your worst you miserable, pathetic asshole.

UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

LITERATURE

HEALTHY ALTERNATIVES TO TWILIGHT Illustration

PREACHER

by GARTH ENNIS

THE GRAVEYEARD BOOK

by NEIL GAIMAN

ERIC BRYAN

T

COREY LEIS

CONTRIBUTOR

CONTRIBUTOR

he idea of Twilight intrigues you. Romance, vampires, Mormonism, and strict sexual propriety get you itching in all the right ways. Well, before you blow your time, money and personal relationships on a two-thousand-page, five-film, Hot Topic-and-Borders-display-endorsed dry hump, please, put a gun in your mouth and squeeze until you’re Cobained all over the Hello Kitty shit you bought for your dorm.

Or read Preacher. Whichever.

Preacher, a graphic novel series by Garth Ennis, follows the story of Jesse Custer, a southern preacher whose church is destroyed by divine accident, and through Genesis (the product of demon-angel breeding) is given the voice of God. Jesse then decides to use his newfound power to search out God himself and get some answers on just why life is such a vicious game of son-of-a-bitch.

Not without his friends though! You can’t storm the gates of Heaven without friends!

He’s traveling with his ex-girlfriend, Tulip (a female character not Hell-bent on sending feminism back 300 years), his spiritual guide, John Wayne, and an Irish vampire named Cassidy (a vampire who won’t get your mom wet!). And get this, Cassidy doesn’t sparkle, can’t survive in daylight, is actually emotionally complex, and has little to no use for 17-year-old girls who think that clove cigarettes and biting their lip all the fucking time makes them interesting. Granted, that’s the movie, but let’s face it, that’s the big success story of the whole Meyer abortion anyway.

I won’t give too much away, but I will say that as opposed to endless pining for extremely painful vampire sex, there’s a great, intricately planned and executed storyline, an unlikely but ultimately goodhearted love story (this will be foreign to you, but follow me), and more than enough humor, sex and violence to not only attract readers from both locker rooms, but keep both pleasantly satisfied. And there are pictures! You won’t get all those headaches!

So if you’re looking for something that doesn’t pander to you because you like jailbait abs and that Morrisey-looking fucker, Preacher is for you. It’s intelligent, earnest, funny and it even has Kevin Smith’s stamp of approval, which means your hipster friends will trade you Pall Malls to borrow it. Twilight is the worst thing to happen to America since 9/11, so please, do yourself a favor (do America a favor!) and swing by your nearest comic dealer before it’s too late.

UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

As the season grows progressively more amber, approaching All Hallows Eve, and you look even harder for worthy endeavors with which to procrastinate, stumble into a dark and mysterious book store or some ominous and gargantuan library—preferrably when it’s raining torrentially and nearing dusk—and pick up Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book.

It’s the sort of novel that makes you appreciate the disconcerting crunching of autumn leaves underfoot and clattering window shutters in the howling wind. Was that laughter coming from the basement? My candle just flickered strangely! Boy, this room sure has gotten cold. Um, okay. Well, Gaiman’s ghoulish tale is based loosely on The Jungle Book (No! Not the goddamned Disney movie! The book by that by-jingo-ing bastard, Rudyard Kipling!) in that it is a bildungsroman, or coming-of-age story, about a mysterious orphan who’s adopted and raised by unlikely parents.

Don’t think that you’ll be able to forsee what’ll happen to our protagonist because of this, however. In The Graveyard Book, after narrowly escaping the black lambskingloved clutches of the murderer (the man) Jack, the toddler, Nobody Owens, is found in the graveyard by a community of ghosts and other unmentionables who accepts the newly orphaned mortal, giving him protection and granting him Freedom of the Graveyard, which allows him to acquire supernatual skills (e.g., invisibility, the ability to walk through certain walls, et cetera).

Confined to the graveyard, our wraithlike protagonist finds himself in a host of macabre (mis)adventures due to his pubescent restlessness. (And there’s also an adorable romance between Bod and a quirky girl who ventures into the graveyard.). Although marketed in the States as a novel for adolescents, The Graveyard Book is a beautifully-written piece of literature appropriate and enjoyable for mature readers of all ages (and it’s assuredly better written than anything Stephenie Meyer could dream up). It is also complemented by phantasmagorical illustrations by esteemed comic book artist Dave McKean.

For the mildly serious reader, it shouldn’t take longer than a week or two to read, and it’s almost guaranteed to leave at least a shred of warm sentimentality lingering inside.

Ah, well. The book was awarded a Newbery Medal, for chrissake, so that’s got to count for something. Read it before they make a movie out of it!

ANDREW LOVE

THE SOOKIE STACKHOUSE NOVELS

by CHARLAINE HARRIS NICOLE CLOAR CONTRIBUTOR

I am ashamed to admit it, but yes, I used to be a Twilight fan. I was afflicted, but fortunately I found the light at the end of that angsty pre-teen-mess-of-a-saga tunnel. My kickass alternative to bad writing and a weak heroine is a book series by Charlaine Harris called the Sookie Stackhouse novels. Some may know this series to be what the TV show True Blood on HBO is based on. To start off, the Sookie Stackhouse novels were published before Twilight was around, so Harris’ ideas were quite original in this aspect. The book shares a few similarities to Twilight: girl falls in love with vampire, there’s competition for the girl’s heart, blah blah blah.

The difference? The Sookie Stackhouse novels are well-written. The girl in question can actually defend herself and doesn’t need a man to survive like Miss cant-walkdown-the-damn-sidewalk-without-trippingBella Swan. The vampires aren’t sparkling vegetarians who’d prefer not to fight; they’re violent, they’re vulgar, and they’re badass, like vampires should be. The politics of the vampire world in Charlaine Harris’ novels are unique with vampires having “come out of the coffin,” so to speak, due to a new synthetic blood which the Japanese have invented so that vampires won’t have to feed on humans (even though they still do).

Whereas in Twilight, the evil Volturi seem like something Stephenie Meyer simply threw in at the end of each book just to have an antagonist. Charlaine Harris’ novels are a unique blend of Southern, gothic, comedic, and murder mystery styles. Stephenie Meyer’s novels are a mix of a stalker vampire boyfriend, a pedophile werewolf (no, seriously), and a Mary Sue heroine who has successfully warped preteen girls’ minds into thinking the perfect man is going be watching them sleep someday outside their window.

If this hasn’t convinced you yet, let me just say that Harris’ novels have 100% more sex. While Stephenie Meyer completely skips over sex scenes and does not go into detail whatsoever, Charlaine Harris will dedicate at least three pages worth of sex detail for your perverted fantasy’s benefit.

So do yourselves a favor, people, and go get hooked on a real vampire series like the Sookie Stackhouse novels. Oh, and check out True Blood on HBO too. It’s pretty kickass as well and much more worthy of obsession than Twilght.

THE VAMPIRE CHRONICLES

by ANNE RICE LANDON DEVAULT CONTRIBUTOR

Twilight is not as bad as everyone says it is. I don’t care how bad the writing can get.

Anything that promotes reading is a positive step in the right direction. After all, Twilight is a book written for young teenagers and as so, hits the twelve-to-fifteen demographic.

However, once one is out of this age group, one should explore the entire literary spectrum of forbidden love, vampires, dark, gloomy, brooding men, or my personal favorite, good writing. That is where Anne Rice comes in.

Anne Rice is by far one of the most talented writers out there and happens to excel in the genre of vampires.

Upon opening any of Anne Rice’s books of The Vampire Chronicles, one can instantly get a feel for how much better these books are than the works of Stephenie Meyer, mainly because the book is made for adults. The themes themselves are much more mature. Did I mention that there is actual blood-drinking in the book with no glitter involved? And I am not talking about drinking blood from a gauntlet, but real hunting and feeding. The writing can be a bit graphic, but there is an aesthetic beauty in the writing style and descriptions of Anne Rice. Her words are as natural as they are engaging and leave one re-reading sentences just to fully appreciate them.

As the book progresses, Rice’s ability as a storyteller shines and includes one of the biggest things Twilight lacks: character development.

The growth and depth of the vampires really shine (burn?) as the series unfolds. Each vampire has his or her own story, and each one is true to the vampire genre, including elements of the dark depression of eternal life and the realization of what they have become.

Unlike the story of Twilight, which focuses on teenage love with vampires who try to reconcile co-existing in two worlds, Anne Rice’s novels focus on the mythological elements of vampires, similar to shows like True Blood, but better.

If dark writing is something that intrigues you, give Anne Rice a shot. I wouldn’t waste my own time reading a bad book, and no way will I waste anyone else’s.

ENTERTAINMENT

TURN ON THE LIGHTS

Two guys watch a movie and don’t like it, i guess MARCO BELTRAN

Steve Besette

ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR

union Staffer

M

odern suspense hack M. Night Shyamalan strikes more fool’s gold with Devil, a flick so irritatingly off balance, I actually wish it sucked more for entertainment value. Walking in I already knew it was going to be a laughably pathetic excuse for a suspense movie, like most that shove their scraggly-selves into theaters these days, I just didn’t know what aspects would inordinately be despicable.

Obviously you can tell from the trailer it’s one of those, “is it the person you least expect, or the one you expect the most?”

The problem with this aspect of the movie is that the plot and characters weave in and out of suspicion and try to keep you guessing, like you would normally expect from a suspensfuly movie. Here, the suspicion is so flat and uninteresting that you want to get to the end in order to eradicate yourself of the bland storytelling that is insulting your intelligence.

The characters are very two-dimensional and play off as flat archetypes. They have no heart, no common human thread,

it’s very cartoonish and caricature-like, and there’s not much of a relevant background for any of the characters to have the possibility of playing a significant role in a story or emotional conflict, except for just one, whose past secrets are what basically the whole limp plot is hinged on.

If you’re thinking that suspense, emotional conflict and human connection watch some Hitchcock and fucking turn off Sorority Row. I’m sure he’s been rolling in his oversized grave for a long while, especially on Friday when Devil lit up on theater screens.

Shyamalan only came up with the story, not the script, and he didn’t direct the stupid thing. Maybe the consensus of hate has made him timid to reach back into higher creative control, I don’t know. And maybe you might even think that since other people wrote and directed it, it might be okay, but no, it still isn’t worth the amount of effort needed to keep yourself from vomiting from the poor quality of this movie and the name associated.

Let me start this off by spoiling the movie for you so that you don’t have to take your boyfriend or girlfriend to see this movie and end up breaking up because the movie makes your relationship really awkward: the old lady is the devil and the white guy in the elevator killed the detective’s family. They, the director and M. Night, try to throw in a bunch of random twists to throw you off a bit, but you know it’s coming. You don’t know when it’s coming, but the old lady is the only one that doesn’t fit.

The most disappointing aspect of this movie is that it has a lot of missed opportunities that would have made this a rewarding experience for everyone. Instead of trying to give each character a small amount of depth they contradict themselves. For instance, they show the detective dates some forensics girl five months after his family died and only randomly references his dead family. A better development of character would have been to show the detective’s family dying in the beginning of the film and having him distraught about it throughout the course of

the film What a dick! At least wait like a year before you start boning some chick on top of your dead wife’s clothes. The movie is outside of the elevator for five minutes. There’s no build up. Nothing. Just a Hispanic guy saying that the devil does random things and a lot of crazy stuff that happens after a person commits suicide. Is that enough of a build up before a major turning point?

The camera work is really lame. The beginning of the film is upside down and for the rest of the film, the camera is tilted. I didn’t understand how this was pertinent to the story or to displaying some type of emotion in the viewer. There’s really no reason for it. If there’s a reason why the movie starts with a panoramic shot of Toronto upsidedown, send me the details at marcob.union@gmail.com.

Oh. Before I forget. The building number is 333. That has something to do with the devil. It’s really lame use of it and brings the viewers’ attention to the number without it being an important aspect of the film.

KILL ME. PLEASE KILL ME.

I’m still here, I’m not there Joaqy Wock’s brutally honest portrayal of his rise to infamy Ian Randolph CONTRIBUTOR

When filmmakers strive to finda a subject that breakthrough political, social, and environmental issues concerning the United States, incoherent actors-turned-rappers is not in mind… until now. In the in-depth and uncensored mockumentary I’m Still Here, newly proclaimed director Casey Affleck gives an unremorseful look inside the life of actor Joaquin Phoenix in his selfloathing, lost year of battling over the disenchantment of his film career and ultimately/ unsuccessfully transition into music.

With fears of being typecast as the “crazy asshole,” his neuroticism catches up to him and he becomes the butt of all the rumors and jokes that torment him. The film strangely provides social, philosophical, and environmental commentary on the perceived lives of celebrities behind

the obsessive lens. None-the-less, the film is oddly hilarious.

Throughout all the chaos, the film still remains fluid and elaborately paced, even in his times of incoherence. The film is intricately layered, as it combines dead pan humor, intense, yet thought-provoking seriousness, and cocaine-influenced ass sniffing. The humor and drama aspects of the film go from cleverly awkward subtleness to full frontal obnoxiousness.

Some comedic highlights are his interactions with guest appearances of fellow high profile actors such as Sean Penn, Ben Stiller, and Danny Glover, making Joaquin’s day-in-the-life hi-jinx more like the show Curb Your Enthusiasm as they give him advice, movie pitches, and a potential record deal, which he reliably

refuses or fucks up. Another prominent supporting role was none other than Puffy “Don’t call me Diddy”-Combs, who gives a great performance as the crusher of all dreams, motivating Joaquin’s every intention of sabotaging his career as both rapper and decent human being.

There are also plenty of dark and visually disturbing moments in the film, including a Borat-influenced confrontation with enough dick-flopping, feces-dropping facilitation to leave Bruno saying, “why didn’t I think of that?” Phoenix, who’s given us a diverse and powerful range of emotionally conflicted characters under harshly stressful circumstance, inadvertently comes out of his self-destructive lifestyle.

Joaquin’s ability to be so frighteningly convincing as an actor makes you empathize

with him, proving that his outlandish new found self goes beyod mere method acting.

All in all, I’m Still Here is a great effort to educate us not to follow our dreams, stay in school, say no to drugs, and never be desperate enough to do reality T.V. The film leaves the audience distraught and contemplative state on the ride home from the Landmark Theatre (the only place it was playing at the time).

This performance art piece is an intentional reflection of the lives of celebrities and their closely observed mishaps in general. It asks many questions such as, “is the film real? A subliminal fuck you to Hollywood? A cry for help? And most importantly, a preview of Diddy’s next Making the Band?” Only Letterman knows…

UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

COMICS

SHITTY COMICS

EASY

JOSE FELIX CRUZ CONTRIBUTOR

And it pissed me off that no girl noticed my handsomeness...

So I am sitting all handsomely in the middle of calculus class...

so I switched my fucking swagger to full blast.

HARD

SHAKABACCA

EASY

HARD

ANSWERS

UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

MINTSLE DUNGUS CONTRIBUTOR

Illustrations

CHRIS FABELA COMICS EDITOR

Help the Comics page! Remix this comic, add your own words and send it to cfab.union@gmail.com!

YOU’RE STUCK HERE

VICTOR! PERFECTO UNION STAFFER

OMFG:

CULTURE

ONCE A MONTH FOOD-GASM NOAH KELLY CAMPUS EDITOR

I’m finally not ashamed to admit that one of my favorite indulgences isn’t some hole in the wall; it’s from fucking Chili’s. The Chocolate Chip Paradise Pie is a blondie brownie, served scalding hot with ice cream, caramel, chocolate sauce and walnuts. I’m in heaven until I poop my guts out later.

LEO PORTUGAL UNION STAFFER

French fries covered in cheese, grilled onions and spread (In-N-Out’s Thousand Island-y secret sauce). Awesome! Order a vanilla shake and make it a meal. Even when your cup is half empty, there’s no need to be pessimistic; add root beer to that shake, and you’ve got yourself a full cup of float.

PATRICK MCNALLY CONTRIBUTOR

On BBQ Turkey Quesadillas from the Dining Hall: I love quesadillas, I really do, but never like this with thee. My first bite into you was one of magic, and immediately I shouted with glee. Your sweet and savory barbequed turkey was so good that it beset a spree. Into the kitchen I swiftly returned, of you I ate three.

ADRIENNE SHULTZ CONTRIBUTOR

Open Sesame’s falafel pita is a prime vegetarian choice, from the mouth-watering sesame seed sauce, to the beans and herbs of the falafel, combined with cucumber pickles and parsley, it’s a kick in the taste buds and a great alternative to the typically drab veggie diet of salads and pasta.

IAN RANDOLPH UNION STAFFER

This half-pound burger from Belmont Burger’s Garden Burger includes all the juicy and blood soaked flavoring you would find at your favorite burger joint without the guilt of eating a delicious but high cholesterol burger at an undeserving cow’s expense. This local favorite is made from 100 % soy and grilled in front of you, so you know it’s legit.

JACKIE ROSAS CONTRIBUTOR

Sweet, delicious, fruity and sugary strawberry flavors fill my mouth with every bite. And with each bite they fill my soul with pure happiness as I slowly enjoy this Sprinkles strawberry cupcake. The happiness derived from eating this treat outweighs the outrage I feel when I pay $3.25 for a single cupcake.

LEO PORTUGAL UNION STAFFER

A warm, gooey BJ’s cookie topped with ice cream. The waiter doesn’t have to tell me to save room for dessert. Skip the pizza, I just can’t wait! Dessert me now, please. Tell them it’s your birthday, and you get a warm, gooey cookie topped with ice cream topped with a candle!

DEVIN O’NEILL UNION STAFFER

Costco’s Brookside dark chocolate acai: You will pop this shit in your trap, and you will have one continuous mouthgasm until you see the bottom of the bag. Luscious, tart berries, deep, rich Belgian chocolate, and a texture like a tooth massage. If you have a glass of Cabernet handy, you just might die of tongue velvet while creaming yourself.

ALLISON O’DELL

FOLASHADE ALFORD

Chocolate fondue is the perfect food for the indcisive chocoholic. You can choose from a variety of food that you can add chocolate to at your own desire. However, this food should only be enjoyed between a few— kind of like your future girlfriend. After a ton of other people have dipped their skewers in it, it’s just not the same anymore.

A big frosty cup is slid across the counter. What’s inside? A Guinness Milkshake. It’s fucking delicious.With every sip the beer peeks through the vanilla ice cream. The bitter taste is subtle and gives this milkshake the extra oomph it needs.

I drink my milkshakes like a man, with beer in it!

CONTRIBUTOR

CHEYENNE DAY Contributor

Banzai Bowls made with brilliant Brazilian Açai berries is a sensation of fantabulous fruity goodness, topped with even more sweet fructose of strawberries, bananas and more ‘b’ berries to saturate your mouth and satisfy the screaming sweet tooth!

MATT TOWLES CONTRIBUTOR

Taqueria De Anda: a huge, steaming steak burrito with onions, beans, tomatoes, cheese, peppers, rice, and the hottest sauce legal in the U.S. coming apart in yr hands is exactly what you need after nine fucking hours of nothing but a bottle of whiskey and the drained contents of five lukewarm Rolling Rocks. It’ll kick yr ass later, but who fucking cares?

LEO PORTUGAL UNION STAFFER

Blueberries are little blue balls of delicious healthiness. They’re full of antioxidants, potassium, vitamin C and lovely flavor. Go to the 99¢ Only Store for blueberry snack packs that have a cute baby on the label! I put blueberries in everything!

Pancakes, muffins, smoothies, bowls of cereal, my butt…

UNION STAFFER

LEO PORTUGAL UNION STAFFER

Drive-thru a Taco Bell, pick up some bean burritos, and order a pizza from Domino’s.

Slice the burritos, throw them on top of the pizza, and you’ve got yourself pizzaritos. It sounds delicious, and it IS delicious. Mix up the pizza and burrito choices for nearly infinite delightful combinations.

MICHAEL MERMELSTEIN CULTURE EDITOR

Mexico Brand Coconut Palletas have to be the single most perfect popsicle ever invented. The texture is rich and creamy, Even the flakes of real coconut don’t ruin the texture party. The taste is spot-on coconut, not too heavy but not at all delicate. The good folks at Mexico go all out on their flavors. Once you finish your first palleta, you will never switch back to any other popsicle.

CHELSEA STEVENS OPINIONS EDITOR

So this place might be hard to stand for long when there are belting opera singers hovering around your table, but the bread at Macaroni Grill is some of the best you can find in a 20-mile radius. Its soft, warm, flavorful doughy-ness can turn any gloomy day to sunshine.

UNION WEEKLY

20 SEPTEMBER 2010

Disclaimer:

This page is satire. We are not ASI, nor do we represent the CSULB campus. Email any questions, concerns, bold flavors to jeffbridges.grun@gmail.com Go to hell.

Volume 67 Issue 4

namaste

BY JEFF BRIDGES, ACTOR

Hello!

Reader!

What do you call an annoying pasta??? A: Pesto.

Now that everyone is laughing and having some fun, I have food-related good news. Food news. After the success of all my fun pages, I’m very pleased to announce our new sponsor: Food Network Brand Television! Food Network is coming out with some exciting shows and new seasons of all your favorites, including Throwdown with Bobbly Flay, Guy Fieri’s Fucking Show, and of course Dinner Imp. You’re not going to believe what tricks the Dinner Imp is up to this time!

Hint: he replaces the raisins in bagels with tiny pieces of shit.

I wonder what he’ll Bring To The Table next (joke)!

Throwdown with Bobbly Flay is going through an overhaul this season. After being deemed by critics as “far too violent for human consumption,” Bobbly is going to rename the show Namaste With Bobbly Flay in order to reflect its more peaceful content. Booya, that shit sounds cool. Wait ‘til you

Monday, September 20th, 2010

LBUNION.COM

food network introduces new, interactive campaign

BY TEEJAY DINKLE

see the first episode, Bobbly’s gonna have a grill-off with a baby. The baby can’t grill or speak English. Flay says it makes him feel like a “big man” to go head-to-head with a toddler in a cooking challenge. It’s really pathetic.

I think you’re gonna love it.

I know Man vs Food isn’t on the Food Network but I have a quick beef to settle with the producers of the show.

Who knew gangstas were so sensitive? I guess they don’t like cool guys going through their hood and doing the Man Vs. Food “MVF” hand sign. Honestly it’s just immature that they’d get so bent out of shape over a simple gesture.

Get a life, idiots.

So there you go, enjoy all of the hot info on one of America’s best food related networks. One last thing: don’t believe the hype, there is no Guy Fieri-Bobbly Flay lovechild. The sightings around America of a red spiked hair baby cooking up dishes with bold and delicious flavors are complete fabrications. Don’t believe a word from all those haters!

Go to hell. Bye.

With the increasing popularity of 3D movies and interactive media, the Food Network has decided to supplement their already fantastic programming with an interactive, at-home element. The spokesman for this new campaign, executive David Welk, held a press conference on Thursday. “We’re really excited,” said Welk as he unveiled the first TV spot for the interactive shows, “people are going to love participating with their favorite shows.”

The ad begins with a young woman sitting on her couch in drab black and white. She flips to the Food Network and her world is illuminated with color. She watches as Rachel Ray cooks pasta, stirring and adding sauce. The woman does the same with her shag carpet in real time with the show. She gingerly pours sauce into the carpet at her feet, and her face is glowing with excitement. She watches as Giada De Laurentiis puts a roast into the oven. Right along with the TV she puts a pillow under her couch, smiling all the while. The buzz in the screening room was at an alltime high.

Not to be outdone, the Food Network’s sister network, the Travel Channel, began implementing this technique as well. Their ad shows a

Play along with Food Network at home! Use items all around the house and cook right along with your favorite chefs. Warning: babies love being burritos. It’s their favorite thing in the world.

man in a similar situation, watching TV in black and white, when all of a sudden Adam Richman of Man vs Food is in his living room in glorious color. The man eats along with Adam on his toughest food challenges. The man creates an enormous burrito out of pillows and blankets and he takes every bite along with Adam, braving the challenges and reaping the rewards of being a true food warrior. Next on the TV, it’s Bizarre Foods and the man in the living room draws little bugs and gross

stuff on special Food Network paper and he eats it! Fun and gross, yuck!

It’s gross but fun.

After the commercials screened, executive David Welk appeared again for photo ops and to give tips on how to best participate with the shows. The new campaign is to be implemented immediately on the network and in homes across America. Look out for Grunion Interactive in the near future as well! You can get the Grunion experience in your very own home. A cat shits in your mouth.

INSIDE

food network unveils new show: man vs man vs food Ryan McPherson, creator of Bum Fights, is back for round two in the Food Network’s latest masterpiece, Man vs Man vs Food. Armed with a handheld camera, a Nevada state fighting license, and a free ticket to the Soup Plantation buffet, McPherson scours the Nevada slums looking for any two vagrants to battle it out for a chance to win that Soup Plantation buffet ticket. But the fun doesn’t stop there! Whoever wins in the back alley fisticuffs still has to go up against the reigning champion, Food. The winning transient has to eat 5 pounds of food out of a toilet at the Soup Plantation buffet line before the authorities are called by startled and

surprised employees.

So far, Food is still the champion, but Snaggle-Tooth Willy came close, just a quarter of a pound away from winning the competition, but he was stopped short by nightsticks and tear gas from the local Reno SWAT team.

Stay tuned for more exciting episodes of Man vs Man vs Food, including the season finale that may have some surprising and sexy guests.

Check out our newest spin off show: Man vs Food vs Wild, where Adam Richman must survive the wilderness, all the while protecting his disgusting stash of enormous burritos and burgers. page M5F

this is an actual human being in real life

page GF