Generation Magazine Volume 27 Issue 6

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features 11 | student government

THAT’S POLITICS

It’s that time of year again. The undergraduate Student Association is holding elections. Things got a little ugly at the debates on March 18 and your favorite editor in chief had a front row seat.

March 23 - April 5, 2010

CONTENTS 04 | Editor’s Letter

Students don’t seem to care about anything these days.

06 | Snapshot

Generation sits down with UPD chief Gerald Schoenle.

07 | Agenda

Check out all the cool stuff going on from March 23 to April 5.

08 | He Says, She Says 12 | music

OLD SCHOOL SOUTHERNERS

Not every new band you discover is some new up-and-coming phenom. The subdudes are a bunch of old-school southern/blues rockers who have managed to build a considerable fanbase in Buffalo under the radar.

All the questions you were too afraid to ask your parents when you were younger.

| Penny Pinching

Drew Brigham writes about how he saves enough money and how to invest in the stock market.

09 | Edible Material

Join the Slow Food Movement or just make some of the “traditional” college student meals.

10 | News Down Under

14 | campus

1,440-MINUTE BUSING

Thanks to the undergraduate Student Association, 24-hour busing is available between UB’s three campuses at any time. But is it worth the cost? And how long will we get to keep it?

11 | What Makes a Man?

UB’s chapter of the NAACP may be gone, temporarily, but that doesn’t stop A.C.L. Munson-Ellis from ruminating black history.

20 | Vaudeville

Check out our new, humor-influenced section, chock full of haikus and poetry.

20 | Literary

Margaret Atwood is a little cranky, it’s possible to kill yourself with a television and pagers suck.

22 | Parting Shots

Photo Credits: Cover by Dino Husejnovic. Page 3: Middle photo by Melissa Wright, bottom photo by Jennifer Peters. Page 5: Photo by Ren LaForme. Page 6: Photo by Jennifer Peters. Page 7: CD cover courtesy of LaFace. Page 8: Photo by Jennifer Peters.

Page 10: Photo by Jennifer Peters. Page 11: Graphics by Dino Husejnovic. Page 12: Photo courtesy of the subdudes. Page 13: Photo

by Melissa Wright. Page 14: Photo by Ren LaForme. Page 15: All photos by Jennifer Peters. Page 16: Top left to right: photo courtesy of Michael Albov, Tim Hipps, U.S. Congress, UB Communications. Bottom photos, left to right courtesy of RJ Shaughnessy, Rodrigo Palma. Page 17: Photo by Jennifer Peters. Page 20: Photo by Vanwaffle. Page 22: Photos by Jennifer Peters.

This week, we called up some celebrities instead of talking to students.

17 | Inside the NAACP

Text or call our anonymous tipline with suggestions or questions for our advice columns. Forward us your texts from last night.

If you’re still spinning away at a rotary phone, just call us at 201-0436.

One student’s story about how a toy giraffe made him who he is today.

16 | Blueprint

(716) 2010-GEN

What’s up with the Vagina Monologues?

What are they for and why can’t guys be a part of them?

Managing Editor Keeley Sheehan takes out the trash and Contributing Writer Josh Q. Newman trashes TV’s John Stewart.

ubgeneration.com | 3

4 | ubgeneration.com

GENERATION February 9, 2010

editor’s letter

In the spirit of the times Welcome to 2010; the age of consumerism, computers and complacency. The tyrants have won, and it’s your fault.

On Feb. 22, the Student Association and Graduate Student Association held a forum to address student concerns about the UBreathe Free Initiative, which is a fancy name for UB’s smoking ban. Their argument is, and this turned out to be true, that the administration failed to secure significant student input before enacting the ban. They even got Dr. Gary Giovino, the chair of the Department of Health Behavior and one of the main proponents of the ban, to come explain the administration’s reasoning for the initiative.

A lot of smokers were pretty pissed after the ban was enacted. They tore down “no smoking” signs and continued toking their tobacco on now-forbidden grounds. So, considering that this forum was in one of the biggest lecture halls in the school, Knox 20, and that the organizers made it easy by actually bringing an admin in for questioning, you’d think that a lot of angry smokers would show up to express their rage. Not the case.

Factoring out student journalists, student government members and the student review board for the smoking policy, there were three, maybe four students at the meeting.

“At least your voice will actually be directly heard … nobody will be left out tonight,” GSA President Nicole Jowsey deadpanned.

I’m not a smoker and I’m far from being an advocate for smokers’ rights, but this was ridiculous. I interviewed dozens of smokers when the school announced the ban in 2008, and many of them were, pardon my terrible pun, fuming. They said they’d never stand for it. They’d riot. They’d protest in the streets and smoke in Capen Hall, right in front of President Simpson’s office. Now they get a chance to air their grievances and nobody shows up?

The University at Buffalo used to be an active hub in the fight against government oppression and the fight for civil rights. What happened?

On Feb. 25, 1970, over 500 raging students gathered in the Student Union and gnashed their teeth over an incident at a UB basketball game the preceding night. A demonstration had formed over some perceived racism on the team, and Buffalo police were called to quell the small insurgency. The students wanted to know why a police presence was necessary at the game. According to the Reporter, some students threw rocks and ice at the administrators’ windows. They wanted answers. Sixteen students were arrested.

A few days later, someone threw a firebomb into Lockwood Library, which was on South Campus at the time. A firebomb.

It wasn’t a firecracker, it wasn’t a phantom gunman, it was a firebomb. Soon, according to the Reporter article, a state Supreme Court justice issued a restraining order, banning demonstrators from interrupting the university’s “normal operations.” But the students weren’t listening.

On March 5, 1970, over 400 students blocked the entrance to Hayes Hall in an attempt to boycott classes and convince professors to cancel them. On March 8, the university decided to get tough. They called the

“The University at Buffalo used to be an active hub in the fight against government oppression and the fight for civil rights.

What happened?”

Buffalo Police Department and asked them to occupy campus for “an indeterminate stay.” The students got tougher. In a culmination of unity, cooperation and the spirit of the times, over 2,000 students and faculty converged to protest the police occupation.

Four days later, 58 people were injured in a scrimmage, including 35 police officers. The police eventually left.

Today? Not so much. Flash forward to Oct. 29, 2009. The undergraduate Student Association held a rally outside the front doors of the Student Union to protest Albany’s budget cuts to the SUNY system. While they managed to gather 1,316 signatures to send to Gov. David Paterson, less than 100 students were huddled around the stage at one time.

After all, it was cold that day, and who pays for college anymore?

I can’t think of many protests prior to that.

UB Anti War and UB Students Against Sweatshops used to have rallies and marches. UB Green had those spandex people running around last year. The Chinese Student Association held a decent rally in spring 2008 to support the Olympics in Beijing. Other than that, all I can recall are hundreds of Facebook groups, and those are worthless.

A lot of people yearn for the days of hippies and the Summer of Love for all the wrong reasons. Drugs. Sex. Hugging your neighbor’s tree. But let’s take a minute and appreciate the ’60s for what they did right: protests.

Think about what those stoners and sexual miscreants were able to accomplish: the end of the Vietnam War, equality for women and black people, Jimi Hendrix.

Now what do we have? Wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Oppression against homosexuals in some of the most liberal states in the union. Ke$ha. Say what you want about the hippies, but they wouldn’t stand for this.

Sure, there have been some incredible protests in the past couple years, with varying levels of effectiveness. The anti-war rally of Feb. 15, 2003 involved anywhere from six to 30 million people. Rome’s protest alone included over three million people, making it the largest anti-war rally in the history of the world. These protests didn’t stop W. from invading Iraq, of course, because nothing can stop a cowboy from trying to tame a bucking bronco, but other countries’ governments took heed. Most of Europe chose not to send troops.

Consider also the protests at UC Berkeley after the state’s budget cuts in 2009. An esti-

mated 5,000 students and faculty cut through campus and blocked all lanes of traffic at a nearby road. This led to good old-fashioned sit-ins, closed campus buildings and canceled classes. There have been clashes with police, burned dumpsters and all-out riots. But who would expect any less from the founders of the free speech movement?

I’m not advocating that people throw rocks at cops or overturn cars. Violence is hardly ever the answer. But it strikes me as pathetic that people refuse to stand up for their rights.

In fact, so few people do choose to rally and protest, that U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan actually praised the Berkeley students for doing what they did. In a column written for the Huffington Post, he thanked the students for reminding everyone that schools are “a treasured investment.”

Of course, this is the exception to the rule.

In many places, you must get permission from the government to hold a public demonstration. At important events, like the G20 summit in Pittsburg last year, protestors are banned outright. The ACLU had to sue the government to allow protestors near the convention center where the event was held.

First Amendment anyone? “Congress shall make no law … abridging … the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

Of course, none of it matters if people don’t ever leave their computers to exercise this right. As I was typing this out, I opened Facebook for a momentary diversion and found that over 200 kids had just joined a group called “UB Christians/Students want Good Friday Off!!!”

My advice? Turn on, tune in, drop out. Hey, that motto helped a bunch of drugged-up hippies end the war. Maybe it’ll get you an extra vacation day.

Sincerely,

Ren LaForme Editor in Chief

Editorial Staff Editor in Chief Ren LaForme Managing Editor Keeley Sheehan Creative Director Katelynn Padowski Asst. Creative Director Dino Husejnovic Associate Editor Kathryn Przybyla Associate Editor Melissa Wright Photo Editor Jennifer Peters Circulation Director Abraham C.L. Munson-Ellis ContributingStaff Jordan Brown Jason Davis Matthew Dunham Scott Patrick Kerrigan Josh Q. Newman Alexandra Pivovarova Ryan Pusateri Eric Schles Business Staff Business Manager Elizabeth Caruso Ad Manager Alexandra Pivovarova Asst. Ad Manager TBD WE NEVER WASTE OUR MONEY ON HOT AIR BALLOONS. Cover design by Dino Husejnovic.

Generation Magazine is owned by Sub-Board I, Inc., the student service corporationat the State University of New York at Buffalo. The Sub-Board I, Inc. Board of Directors grants editorial autonomy to the editorial board of Generation. Sub-Board I, Inc. (the publisher) provides funding through mandatory student activity fees and is in no way responsible for the editorial content, editorial structure or editorial policy of the magazine.

Editorial and business offices for Generation are located in Suite 315 in the Student Union on North Campus. The telephone numbers are (716) 645-6131 or (716) 645-2674 (FAX). Address mail c/o Room 315 Student Union University at Buffalo, Amherst, NY 14260 Submissions to Generation Magazine should be emailed to ubgeneration@gmail.com by 1 p.m. Tuesday, a week before each issue’s publication. This publication and its contents are the property of the students of the State University of New York at Buffalo 2009 by Generation Magazine, all rights reserved. The first 10 copies of Generation Magazine are free. Each additional copy must be approved by the editor in chief.

Requests for reprints should be directed to the editor in chief. Generation Magazine neither endorses nor takes responsibility for any claims made by our advertisers.

Press run 5,000. It’s April Fools. Some of this junk is made up. There are no personals. Haha!

ubgeneration.com | 5

snapshot

a daily basis.

How about a not-so-typical day?

You have to have seen some bizarre things in your four years here.

Gerald Schoenle No matter which side of the law you’re on, the University Police Department is here to keep things in order. We met with Gerald Schoenle, the chief of UPD, to talk about the executive arm of UB. How long have you been with the University Police Department?

Four years.

Where did you work before that?

Do you have a lot of time to write this down? I’ll just give you the snapshot.

I did 20 years with the Buffalo Police Department, I retired there as a captain. I was the county police academy director for 5 years and after that I was the assistant chief of police in Arlington, Texas. Then I came here.

What led you to Arlington?

It was a job opportunity to work for a major city, a city bigger than Buffalo, and then I came back for this job.

How is working for university police different than working for other police departments?

Probably more things are the same than are different. I would say the differences are … I think you get a lot more positive things in the university setting, a lot of good stuff happens here. Some of the things that we’re working are special events, football games, Center for the Arts, we’re involved in planning things. The Dalai Lama, or Al Gore visits. Lots of really good things that are fun. They’re challenging but it’s more positive, where if you work for a major city where a lot of what you’re doing is negative and you see a lot of people at their worst.

Here you get a balance, and that’s the really nice part.

Does UPD exclusively cover all of

6 | ubgeneration.com

the big-name people that come to UB? Are other police departments involved?

We pretty much… I don’t want to say exclusively, because certain people— a former president—they get Secret Service protection. Certain dignitaries get Department of State protection. The Dalai Lama got Department of State protection. We’ll work with other agencies on that. But we’re the primary… the leading agencies on those things, so it’s a lot of fun to do that stuff.

What’s it like to cover those people?

Do you get to meet any of them?

Sure, sure. Most of the time we stay in the background and we’re not directly involved with them. But we do have opportunities to meet with them. A lot of the officers have had opportunities.

Our investigators will usually work the inner perimeters protection for dignitaries and it’s pretty interesting.

There’s a lot of planning that goes into it. We have an assistant chief, Dick Lindy, that does our special events.

One of our other assistant chiefs does a patrol setting. We’ll have meetings months in advance to start planning for these.

Has much changed in the four years you’ve been with the University Police Department? Have you changed much since you’ve been in charge?

The biggest change I would say that I’ve been involved with in the police department was getting our department state accredited. Right now

we’re the only university police department that’s state accredited.

This means that you adhere to a set of standards and best practices, and there’s 134 standards that you have to adhere to administratively. It makes you a better police department. We’re actually now pursuing national accreditation through a different agency. Once we receive that, we’ll be the only agency in the whole county, the only police department, that has that.

Lots of changes have happened since I’ve been here with security enhancements for the infrastructure on the South Campus … We replaced all the blue light phones on the campus. We replaced all the lighting. And we added 76 security cameras on the South Campus. That was a huge change.

And now, we just initiated a similar project on the North Campus. That’s in the early stages.

Walk us through your average day. What are you spending most of your time on these days? … We’re having a lot of problems on campus in the past several weeks with larcenists. So we’re … trying to help to stop this from happening. It’s happening in the libraries and resident halls. We’re talking thefts that are totally preventable. We’re having problem-solving meetings with … people from the libraries, people from the IT department, from UB Micro, our police department, to talk about things we’re trying to do to stop these problems. And again, it’s frustrating because it’s totally preventable. If you leave something like your laptop on the study carousel and you go to the restroom, there’s a good chance it won’t be there when you get back.

People are doing it every day. It makes me crazy. I don’t get it. I can think back when I started going back to graduate school. I was at [Buffalo State College] and I left a textbook in an area where I could almost see it—and it was gone.

It was the same principle, so I even make the same mistake, I guess. But I’d be a little less likely to leave a laptop than a textbook. But textbooks are expensive too. But we work on that and I meet with our investigators on

Oh there’s funny things, that are funny to me. One of the first calls I remember on the weekend coming in, and I mean, I shouldn’t say funny, it wasn’t funny, but it seemed funny at the time. But it was in the wintertime and I’m reading the calls and there was a call—a naked person screaming, sitting in a snow bank. And we go to check it out and what it was, was somebody that was in a fraternity and a result of a little hazing and he had hot sauce poured all over him and the only way that he could cool down was to sit in the snow bank. One of the things I’d like to do sometime when I retire in life … for arrest purposes, I’ve kept copies of over 1,000 arrests.

I have a copy of each one of those. I’d like to write books someday about all that staff. And what I’ve started doing since I started here, I’ve kept a list of any call that I find personally amusing. There’s a lot of them. You know, some stuff just never ceases to amaze you. It’s funny what people will call you about. That’s the nice part about my job. It’s always different. It’s fun to work with college students … It’s fun to work with young people. It keeps you young. Makes life interesting.

Speaking of bizarre, how do you feel you guys did with the Lockwood situation?

I think it was very interesting. From a police perspective, I think it was handled very well. We were very pleased that we were able to bring in so many people to assist us in such a short period of time. As always, anything you can look at afterwards and say, oh we could do this better, we could do that better. … By and large, the actual handling of it I thought went very well.

In this day and age, you almost can’t over respond to a situation like that because we have to treat them really seriously. Things have changed since Columbine and Virginia Tech, and with all the crazy stuff that happens on our campuses, you have to respond with the abundance of caution. In this particular case, we didn’t have an active shooter situation and we didn’t even have a situation with someone being threatened, so it’s a little bit different kind of response where you really didn’t have to secure an area and get everybody back and get a campuswide evacuation. It wasn’t like that at all. That was the good thing. I thought it went pretty well. It kind of ruined my day, but other than that it went pretty well.

Were you able to determine if there ever was a weapon or not?

No, we couldn’t say for sure. My sense from the beginning was that there probably wasn’t. … One of our South Campus cameras could have probably seen a lot better, but this was one of our older cameras and it just didn’t have that type of clarity. So when you have a report or something and then you have secondary information and you see a video where you say, holy… that could be a weapon. Then you fol-

low the person around as long as the camera will show him and you see other people aren’t looking at him or anything, it makes you think well, it’s probably not, but it really looks like one. So, that’s the information we had.

Tell us about those nice police cars you guys are driving around in.

Most police departments have some type of business plan for how often they replace their cars. It’s recommended that you replace them every three years but we were able to get in a plan where you replace them every four years, so that’s pretty good.

They’re running 24/7. One of the first things when I came here, a lot of lieutenants said members of the department really wanted to change the colors of the cars, maybe even change the type of the car. So I said let’s get together and you guys can design the car. And they did that. They decided they wanted to go with the black and white and I said, great, I personally like the black and white, that’s not a bad idea … And then we had to decide what type of car we wanted to go with. A lot of police departments have been switching to something just a little bit smaller and our police went for the Charger, which are really popular now. I think they look kind of slick.

We actually got an award a year after we got the Chargers and the black and white … for best-designed police car.

On the other side of the spectrum, you guys have those Segways now.

They’re… interesting. How have those been working out?

They’re a lot of fun. I actually enjoy riding on them myself. We started a joint detail last year with the Buffalo police. And actually we started that after the death of Javon Jackson, which we all know about, was on graduation day. And we were basically patrolling on weekends from the beginning of the semester in August until probably, until it gets cold around Halloween, on Thursday, Friday, Saturday nights.

We’re patrolling on Main Street from the South Campus down to the LaSalle station on bikes and on Segways. We’re also using the Segways on North Campus where we can, too.

It’s pretty cool once you get your balance on it. It’s pretty slick. I’ve used them during football games and other events … The vendor took some pictures of me the first time I got on one and he sent it—I don’t really use Facebook very much, but I have one—he put my pictures up there. I was like, oh, thanks a lot.

Here’s a tough question to end our interview. You deal with crime all day; you go home, kick up your feet. Do you watch the cop shows or something less like your day?

You know, I really don’t watch TV at all. Mostly I like to read. I like mysteries. A lot of books that I read have police in them, I’ll admit that. But I’m sort of a mystery junkie. I read three or four books a month. Maybe more in the summertime.

GENERATION February 9, 2010

agenda CONCERT | COHEED AND CAMBRIA | MARCH 23 This serves as good news to some, and a fair warning to get ear protection to others. One of the most distinct voices and coolest heads of hair in modern rock is set to take the stage in upstate New York. Coheed will perform at Harro East Ballroom in Rochester. Tickets are between $35 and $44… earplugs are $3.99—your call.

MOVIE | HOT TUB TIME MACHINE | MARCH 26 This movie is one of those Apatow-inspired comedies that strives to pull on your heartstrings while simultaneously busting your seams. The story follows three down-on-their-luck, middle- aged men and one basement-dwelling nerd whose drunken adventures lead them to… well… a hot tub time machine. Stuck in 1986, the four companions have the opportunity to change their past and fix their futures. Tip: Watch Clark Duke. He’s friends with Michael Cera in real life, and he could be funnier.

CONCERT | MANCHESTER ORCHESTRA | MARCH 26 Don’t let lead singer Andy Hull’s wayward beard scare you away, Manchester Orchestra is an upand-coming band you don’t want to miss. For all you Jesse Lacey enthusiasts out there, and we know that there are a lot of you, Man-O honed their chops playing with Long Island’s finest and you can hear the influence. They combined the best parts of that early ’00s LI sound with good oldfashioned southern rock to create a sexy little baby. Doors open at 6:30 p.m. at the Water Street Music Hall in Rochester. Tickets are a measly $14.

CONCERT | PASSION PIT | MARCH 28 Did you know that “passion pit” is a Hollywood term for drive-in theater? Neither did we. But we do know that Passion Pit frontman Michael Angelakos is returning home to Buffalo to push the boundaries of good music into a beautiful new frontier. Question: What’s in your car’s CD player right now? Answer: If it’s anything other than Passion Pit, chuck it out the window. Then come to this show and become enlightened. Doors open at 7 p.m. at the newly opened Rapids Theatre in Niagara Falls. Tickets are $16.

ALBUM | DRAKE - THANK ME LATER| MARCH 30 Looking to lead and hold Young Money together while Lil’ Wayne serves his prison sentence, phenom rapper Aubrey “Drake” Graham is preparing to release his debut album “Thank Me Later.” The former child star turned hot shit is the most highly regarded Canadian since Logan from “X-Men.” Drake’s album promises to be a breath of fresh air for a genre damned by thugs and pimps.

Album Review: Usher – “Raymond vs. Raymond”

By Jason Davis It’s been two years, a marriage, two children, and a divorce since Usher released an album—and he’s is back in a big way. His last album, “Here I Stand,” was poorly received by both critics and fans, reflected by its placement on the charts. Many said it was too serious, especially after the classic album, “Confessions,” that it followed, and that Usher had lost his touch. But Usher returned to the studio after his divorce from former wife Tameka Foster was finalized to start working on his sixth studio album, “Raymond vs. Raymond.”

With the buzz single “Papers”—rumored to be a reference to his divorce papers—released in October 2009 to mixed reviews, as an Usher fan myself, I was slowly losing faith in the man who had created pop culture hits like “U Remind Me” and “Yeah.” It also didn’t help that the album suffered several setbacks.

Well, when I’m wrong, I’m wrong.

The extra time that Usher spent perfecting the album was well worth it, because the man that we know and love returns with a record filled with his classic mix of slow R&B bedroom appropriate songs and up-tempo club bangers.

Tracks such as “Lil Freak” featuring Nicki Minaj and “She Don’t Know” featuring Ludacris are reminiscent of the single Usher, who enjoys going out with the boys looking for ladies. Not to mention these tracks were produced by two of the hottest producers in the game right now, Polow Da Don and Bangladesh, respectively. Tracks like the Benny Mardones-sampled “Making Love

(Into The Night)” and “Mars vs. Venus” remind fans that he still has that R&B crooning bone in his body, known to melt the hearts of millions of women.

Now 32, Usher, with a successful career since the age of 18, needs to re-invent himself without coming off like an old man trying to take on a current musical fad or trend. In true Usher fashion, he introduces a more dance-inspired sound on a few of the tracks like “More,” “So Many Girls” and “OMG,” which was produced by Black Eyed Peas front man, will.I.am. There are also radio friendly songs, like the album’s first single, “Hey Daddy,” the infectious crossover potential next single, “Guilty,” featuring a newly freed T.I., as well as the previously mentioned “Lil Freak” and “She Don’t Know.”

All things considered, Usher is a staple on this generation’s R&B roster.

He proved that everyone can have one flop of an album, but that it’s the album after that really matters. “Raymond vs.

Raymond” achieves growth and maturation in both personality and sound, which is what Usher attempted to do on “Here I Stand,” but fell very, very short.

Whether or not you call it a comeback, “Raymond vs. Raymond” is a solid effort with a lot of hot songs for all occasions, whether it’s the bedroom, the club or the radio. If you’re a true Usher fan or just a fan of R&B, make sure you get Usher’s “Raymond vs. Raymond” when it hits record store shelves—yes, they still exist—on March 30.

Jason’s Picks: “Making Love (Into The Night),” “Guilty” featuring T.I., “Monstar”

ubgeneration.com | 7

UB

by jason davis

playlist: The

Hangover Playlist

Had a rough spring break?

If the Excedrin and Gatorade weren’t enough to cure that hangover from all those tequila shots, here’s a playlist that will most certainly bring you back to health. So leave your spring break flings behind, grab your iPod and get this playlist going—you’ll see what I mean.

Oh, and as usual, you can thank me later.

1. The Cab ZzZz 2. Unthinkable (I’m Ready) Alicia Keys 3. Billionaire feat. Bruno Mars Travis McCoy 4. Take Over The World feat. Just Blaze & Colin Munroe Kidz in the Hall 5. I Woke Up In a Car Something Corporate 6. Toes The Zac Brown Band 7. Best I’ll Ever Be Sister Hazel 8. Sober Kelly Clarkson 9. Middle of the Day B.o.B. 10. Flash Delirium MGMT

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He Says, She Says An advice column divided by the sexes, starring Alexandra Pivovarova & Dino Husejnovic

Q: I am a huge Syracuse basketball fan and I have to see every game, but my girlfriend hates sports. That is a dealbreaker for me, because she gets pissed when I cancel dinner in favor of the Orange. How do I get her to watch the game with me?

AP: Canceling dinner with your girlfriend is not the best way to get her to watch the game with you. Since you’re such a huge fan, I’m sure you know how to look up a schedule of upcoming events. Find out when all the games are in advance and don’t schedule plans with your girlfriend during those times. However, if SU wins the playoffs and a game comes up suddenly, consider what’s more important to you. If it’s Valentine’s Day, for instance, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to reschedule your romantic dinner for two. In general though, this question is a classic case of compromise. Do something for or with your girlfriend that makes her happy and then ask her to watch the game with you. Take her out to her favorite restaurant or a chick flick that she’s been dying to see, and trust me, she’ll be more than willing to return the favor.

DH: I feel your pain, my fellow Syracuse fan. To some women, sports can be a bit confusing. They either might think it’s a waste of time, that it has no purpose, or is just plain dumb. We all know that is not true. What you guys

need to do is compromise. She wants to go to a club? If Syracuse is playing, suggest a bar with a dance floor.

She wants dinner? Suggest Tully’s.

She wants sex? Suggest doggy-style.

As long as she is enjoying herself in some way and you have a clear view of ESPN, I think it’s going to work out.

Q: I heard from one of my coworkers who is close with the boss that I’m getting fired next week. I have two jobs and hate this one anyway, so I don’t care. But I want to go out in style. What could I do?

AP: You might hate this job but remember, you’ll still have to mention it in the employment history part of every job application you fill out for years to come. So keep in mind that the best thing might be to not do anything that will completely destroy your chances of a decent reference.

However, if that train has passed and you’re sure that your boss wholeheartedly hates your guts, feel free to be creative with your departure.

Invite strippers disguised as clients to the office, hire a mariachi band to sing “Fuck you, I quit,” or seduce your boss’s wife and show her who’s the real boss. Try not to go over the top though—lawyers are expensive.

DH: You, sir, hold a lot of power in your hands. There are a lot of people out there who would love to be in the position that you are in, wishing

to just walk into their bosses office, knock them out with a toner, and quit. I am one of those people right now. Sorry Ren. But that’s beside the point. I wouldn’t suggest going too crazy and setting the place on fire, but a couple little pranks wouldn’t be too bad. If your company has a PA system, find someone who sounds like your boss and a sexy-sounding friend, record some sex noises, and play them back to the entire building. Drop a deuce in a paper bag and leave it in front of your boss’s office.

Classic. Feel free to play with this one.

Q: I lost my keys. Where are they?

AP: Wow, really? I guess it’s been a slow week for question submissions. E-mail us your question at ubgeneration@gmail.com or text 7162010GEN. As for the keys, they’re the least of your worries right now. Next question.

DH: What the !@#$ is wrong with you.

This is a damn magazine, not your mom. How the hell am I supposed to know where your keys are? Did you check your pockets? *facepalm* What is wrong with this world? This is exactly why we need universal health care. Those dumb enough to text Generation asking for the location of their keys are probably going to fail at life. And this is certainly a mental issue. This clueless bastard will eventually get hit by a bus and

will require medical attention, and he will work for the rest of his life dispensing ice cream at Anderson’s, trying to pay back his medical bills.

Anyway...

Q: I’m sleeping over at my boyfriend’s house for the first time.

Any suggestions?

AP: Don’t worry, men are easy to please. If you’ve agreed to sleep over at his house, he’s already ecstatic.

Although, sexy lingerie could never hurt. The rest will take care of itself.

DH: It better not be that time of the month! Just kidding. Although, bring an extra condom, just in case he’s a cheap bastard and doesn’t keep track of his condom count. Try to be a little less judgmental at first, because you may realize he farts while he sleeps, or loves keeping a collection of dirty dishes in his room. This will prevent any lame fights during your first stay at the man-shack. In case you cannot stand weird smelling rooms, bring your bottle of Febreeze, just in case it needs a little odor lift. Otherwise, it shouldn’t be too rough of a ride. Or will it be. Either way, you’ll get used to it.

Got a pressing personal or academic question? E-mail it to ubgeneration@gmail.com or text it to 716-2010GEN. Sound answers are not guaranteed.

A penny saved is a penny earned

By Drew Brigham

The editor in chief of this fine pub-

lication gave me half of a page of this periodical to write about whatever I desired. After weeks and weeks of searching for a topic to write about I finally came up with an idea. An idea so bold, so extravagant, to even speak its name would certainly provoke deep, dark emotions from the reader. OK, so I have yet to come up with an idea, so what?

I just asked my girlfriend for a topic to discuss and she exclaimed, “Why don’t you write about how freakin’ cheap you are!?”

Who cares if I order water at restaurants because I don’t want to buy a beverage? I would say that I am not cheap, but the members of the Facebook group “Drew Brigham sucks so much he might as well be from Long Island” may disagree.

Honestly, I am not cheap. I am frugal. I just spend my money wisely. I systematically pick and choose what to squander my greenbacks on. My mother always told me to “live within your means.” After every paycheck, I

set aside money to pay for rent, food, insurance, gas, and phone. I save the remaining amount of money in an ING Direct Orange savings account.

When buying necessities for my apartment such as food and cooking utensils, I primarily turn to two stores: Aldi and the Dollar Tree. I have found Aldi food products to not only be cheap, but also have great taste. Where else can you buy a pound of oranges for $1.79? When I need fresh produce or a quick snack I just walk two doors down from my apartment to the Lexington Co-op. Don’t get me wrong, I do indulge occasionally and purchase Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby ice cream.

Instead of getting fast food on my lunch break at work, I pack a lunch. I am able to save both gas and money. I also rarely go out to eat at restaurants.

When I do, I use coupons or restaurant.com gift certificates. Recently I scored $15 off my Salvatore’s bill by showing them my VIP card, a.k.a. Entertainment Book card.

Before I make large purchases I ask myself, “Do I really need this?” I sit on this idea for a few weeks and ponder whether this purchase will improve

my life. After I have decided on a specific product, I do my research to find the lowest available price. I have saved up and bought a car, a scooter (don’t laugh), a 42-inch television, a new Droid phone, and other various electronic gadgets. I make the majority of my purchases on credit and rarely carry cash on me.

I have never paid a late fee for credit card purchases in my life. After spending a whopping $5,000 on credit I am awarded a $50 check from Amazon every six months or so. I am building my credit rating, which will help me with loans later in life.

Recently I have tried investing some money in the stock market. If I were to sell my stocks today I would have a 40 percent return. By doing my research on the companies and taking advantage of the economic crisis, I am able to turn a profit in this unstable economy.

The thing that sucks about stocks is the fact that I can be up $100 one day and down $200 the next.

I live and embrace my frugal lifestyle. I find comfort in finding cheap deals for others and myself. This is my two cents on the topic of spending and

saving money. I am now going to put that two cents into a 1.25 percent annual percentage yield savings account.

When I was finished with this masterpiece I ran to give this to the EIC, in the nick of time. He was eating. I said, “Do you want me to read this to you?”

To which he replied: “What, do you want to make me throw up?” I like the cut of his jib.

GENERATION February 9, 2010

edible material

Think Before You Masticate The slow food movement could change your life

By Ren LaForme

W

hen is the last time that you sat down and looked at what you were eating? Have you ever just stopped and stared at your food? Try it. If you don’t have anything in front of you, follow along.

You’re eating a kabob that just finished slow roasting over a grill of red-hot coals. The smoke seeped into the bite-size pieces of steak, red peppers, mushrooms, and tomatoes, and imbued them all with that flavor you can only get in the summer over a hot grill. It looks like something you’d see in an Applebee’s commercial, only this time, it actually looks that good in real life.

As you slide the vegetables off the stick, their natural aromas are liberated and wander around the plate until they find your nose.

A sizable hunk of steak slips off the stick with them and hits the plate with a thud, releasing warm juices from its tender core. Jab it with a fork, bring it to your mouth and chew. It releases a seemingly impossible combination of flavors, both smoky and sweet, and you grind away at it slowly to revel in the flavor.

Don’t be surprised if it feels strange, almost alien, to actually think about your food, to actually look at it and admire its colors and texture. To chew it slowly and let the flavors hit the different parts of your tongue. Most people don’t. That’s why Carlo Petrini founded the Slow Food Movement in 1986.

Petrini, an Italian (who else?), saw the rising tide of the fast food industry and decided to take a stand in defense of good food. His first move was to protest the opening of a McDonald’s—the first in Italy—near the Spanish

Personal Recipies

with Josh Q. Newman

Bowl of Cereal a la móde Ingredients: • 1 12-inch bowl • 1 box of cereal (preferably Cocoa Puffs, but my mom sometimes get Cheerios) • 1 spoon or spork • 1 quart of milk (I’m assuming that’s the right amount. I’m too lazy to Google it.)

Instructions: 1. Pour the cereal into the bowl.

2. Pour milk over the cereal.

3. Using the spoon or spork, mash the shit out of it. It tastes good that way.

Buttered Toast descrittivo Ingredients:

Beer-Battered Beer (Apple juice, if you’re under 21) Ingredients: • 1 six-pack of beer • 2 six-packs of beer • 5 six-packs of beer • For God’s sake more beer Instructions: 1. Take the six-pack and drink it all.

2. Drink more beer. Make sure that the beer is drunk. Otherwise you defeat the whole point.

3. Make sure it’s St. Patrick’s Day or the weekend. Or day. Or night. Hell, just drink it all unless you’re in the hospital.

• 1 piece of bread • 1 toaster • 1 packet of butter (can be stolen from any diner) Instructions: 1. Put the shit on the shit and put it in the toaster.

2. If you can’t figure it out, then put the toaster in you bathtub and jump in!

Bagel • Get the point?

Steps in Rome. Petrini ultimately failed at his first goal, but the movement was in motion.

The movement describes itself as a “nonprofit, eco-gastronomic member-supported organization” that strives to “counteract fast food and fast life, the disappearance of local food traditions and people’s dwindling interest in the food they eat, where it comes from, how it tastes and how our food choices affect the rest of the world.” In short, they want you to support your local culinary traditions and enjoy your food—don’t just eat for eating’s sake.

College students could certainly learn a thing or two from this movement. You eat quick and dirty. Admit it. You grab a double cheeseburger from Burger King between World Civilization and English 102, stuff it down your food hole as quick as possible and then scamper to your next class, brushing the crumbs off your face as snobby girls in Uggs and leggings shoot you dirty looks. Everyone does it. It’s a hallmark of college. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

There are plenty of places on and slightly off campus that offer delicious, good-looking

food. Even Jonny C’s and Rachel’s offer a lot more than fast food joints like Subway and the aforementioned burger monarch. You just have to take the time to actually sit down and enjoy what you’re eating. Choosing local restaurants is better for the economy too.

The money generally goes into the pockets of hard-working Western New Yorkers, and not lining the silk-laced corporate pockets of people like the McDonald’s CEO. His name is James A. Skinner, by the way, and he makes $13.5 million a year feeding you crap.

Want to go a step further? Start growing your own food. Whether it’s from a windowsill, a patch of dirt behind your apartment or your mom’s backyard, homegrown fruits and vegetables always taste better than the storebought stuff. It’s better for you and it’s better for the environment.

Memberships to the slow food movement are steep—you have to donate $60 or more— but you can reap the benefits without being an official member. Just eat slower, better and more deliberately. What have you got to lose, besides a few pounds?

campus & region

Victory, valentine and vagina

In our hyper-sexualized society, talking about a certain women’s body part seems to be taboo. Those involved with performances like “The Vagina Monologues” seek change.

By Josh Q. Newman “I was worried about vaginas,” she wrote. “I was worried about what we think about vaginas, and even more worried that we don’t think about them.” Writer and activist Eve Ensler, who is perhaps most famous for writing the 1996 play “The Vagina Monologues,” has made it her mission to spread the word about the female reproductive organ in more than one way for nearly 15 years, and it has recently spread to UB. On Sunday, March 21 and Monday, March 22, Sub-Board I, Inc. Health Education sponsored a production of “The Vagina Monologues” at UB. This is following the production of another one of Ensler’s plays, “A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant, and A Prayer” on February 28.

The plays are part of the larger V-Day campaign. The V-Day campaign began in 1998 as an international movement meant to raise awareness about violence committed against women.

V-Day, which includes a variety of theatrical productions, film screenings, news briefings, workshops, delegations, and fundraisers, has mostly local volunteers and college students working to further its cause. The events highlight issues like rape, battery, incest, genital mutilation, and sexual slavery.

This is the third year in which UB has directly participated in the events. V-Day was brought to UB for the first time in 2008. SBI has sponsored the event twice, in 2009 and 2010. SBI Health Education oversees and develops programs regarding sexual health, assault and general violence prevention. Jane Fischer, director of SBI Health Education, is the current organizer of V-Day Buffalo 2010. Fischer says she is involved in V-Day because it overlaps with many of the things she does and, more importantly, serves as a jumping point for publicity and volunteering.

“What it does at the core is bring the issue of violence against women and girls to the forefront,” she says. “Whether it is covered by a college newspaper, a community newspaper, television, the Internet, or something else, it brings the issue out there. With awareness, it allows people who have the passion to work in the area of violence prevention to become involved.

It gives them the opportunity to lend their voice to the cause.”

“The Vagina Monologues” has 42 cast members from various majors and departments. The play itself is meant for women of all backgrounds, and UB’s productions keep this same spirit. Katie Mullen, a UB alumna, is one of the cast members of “The Vagina Monologues” and the director of “A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant, and A Prayer.”

“I got into it because [Ensler] found a way for people to speak up and say, ‘This happened to me, but that doesn’t make me a terrible person,’ ” Mullen says. “I always say to people who ask me why I’m involved, ‘I have a voice, and I lend that voice to those who are too scared to speak up for themselves.’ ” “The Vagina Monologues” is based on 200 interviews conducted by Ensler with women on their experiences with sexuality and abuse. Not unspecific, the monologues graphically discuss their tribulations, often using the word “vagina” and its slang terms emphatically. The monologue “Reclaiming Cunt,” for example, is narrated by a woman who believes that “cunt” is a beautiful word despite its negative implications. “My Vagina Was My Village” describes the plight of a Bosnian woman forced into a rape camp.

Ensler has stated that she intentionally includes “vagina” in such a manner in order to truly grasp the gravity of the situation. As the play indicates, in order to stop sexual violence it must be confronted head-on.

The play has garnered a considerable amount of controversy. Its detractors say that it’s gratuitous, vulgar, anti-male and even colonialist. Critics point out that the play focuses on violent sexual encounters rather than harmonious ones. It uses offensive language like “cunt,” “douche,” and “pussy” without restraint. It includes passages with underage girls describing sexual experiences and portrays men in a seemingly negative spotlight. Men are also not allowed

10 | ubgeneration.com

to participate in “The Vagina Monologues.” As for colonial interpretations, some people, such as scholar Kim Q. Hall, say that it furthers sexual stereotypes and an image of helplessness among non-Western women.

But these criticisms are rooted in misunderstandings and prejudices, says Kayla Maryles, a senior health and human services major and director of “The Vagina Monologues.”

“I don’t believe in any of those criticisms,” she says. “The word ‘vagina’ can put off a lot of people and can cause problems … In my experience, men and women react to [the show] the same. And as for men not being able to participate, to have a man act as a woman doesn’t make sense.”

“The title of ‘The Vagina Monologues’ is controversial,” says Anna Sotelo-Peryea, a violence prevention specialist at UB and part of the V-Day campaign. “Some places won’t put up the name of it, and some people don’t want to talk about it at all. I think it has a lot to do with the kind of the strange existence of our culture, where on the one side we’re hyper-sexualized and on the other side we don’t want to say ‘vagina.’ ” Indeed, our hyper-sexualized society was something explored in another V-Day event, the screening of “Killing Us Softly 3.” The 1999 film, which was shown at UB this year, deals with the depiction of women in the mass media.

It claims that women are objectified in advertisements and entertainment, and are defined by their relationships to men.

Although it doesn’t make a direct correlation between the media and violence against women, it does make the point that the media may make it easier for men to objectify and, in extreme cases, abuse women.

With that and other issues in mind, those involved in V-Day believe that the criticisms are ultimately inconsequential.

The vulgarity found in “The Vagina Monologues” and “A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant, and A Prayer” is easily found in such shows as “Family Guy” and “South Park.” Any antimale or colonial tendencies, they say, are misconceptions.

Even “vagina,” as Fischer points out, is a medical term and shouldn’t be misconstrued as a dirty word.

From a male perspective, “The Vagina Monologues” and other parts of V-Day can be contentious. Men may find it difficult to relate to female sexuality, and may find the tone of V-Day events to be aggressive. It’s not easy for people to say the word “vagina” openly, let alone describe it in visceral ways. It is especially difficult for those who don’t have one.

Yet there are many men who feel comfortable with V-Day, and there are an increasing number of those who participate in it. One of those men, Andrew Zapfel, a junior political science major and a cast member of “A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant, and A Prayer,” feels no discomfort.

“My experience as a man in ‘A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant, and A Prayer’ is no different than a woman’s,” Zapfel says. “I work as a performer to give the audience knowledge about a severe issue facing the world. My role is to educate myself and understand the nature of gendered violence in order to be able to educate others. My gender has not made a difference in my experience.”

Another male cast member, Bryan Rothstein, feels the same and is very supportive of the cause.

“I joined ‘A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant, and A Prayer’ to support women and to make my mark and show my support to end violence against women,” says Rothstein, a senior psychology and social science major. “Many people don’t realize how much violence goes on against women that can be stopped, and often men don’t even realize they are doing it.”

As for the perceived anti-male biases, Zapfel and Rothstein expressed no concerns. They had no qualms about “The Vagina Monologues” and even support the exclusion of male performers.

“I do not have a vagina; therefore I do not mind not being allowed to be a part of ‘The Vagina Monologues,’ ” Zapfel says.

“As a person who supports gender equality and promoting awareness of issues facing women, I am glad to help with the

monologues in any way. But not being allowed to perform is not a concern of mine.”

The V-Day campaign maintains strict standards. SBI Health Education, in adherence with V-Day, must follow policies developed by Ensler and other directors. V-Day grants licenses and makes sure the guidelines are followed. Each event has a different set of rules. For example, “The Vagina Monologues” can only be performed a maximum of three times a season.

No edits or omissions can be made to the script. Organizers are required to sell tickets and must file a follow-up report within 30 days of the production.

“A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant, and A Prayer” follows similar guidelines, except that there is a 90-minute time limit. Both plays, as well as all V-Day events, must take place between Feb. 1 and April 30, and 10 percent of net profits must go to a spotlight area that varies from year to year.

This year’s spotlight concerns the women of the Democratic Republic of Congo, who are notoriously raped and mutilated in the country’s ongoing civil war.

Nicole Volo, assistant director of SBI Health Education and an organizer of “The Vagina Monologues,” says that although the organization is strict, the result is well worth it. “[The show] portrays comedy, it portrays emotion,” she says. “It has all the qualities that draw a crowd in … The students we have involved really care about the issue. They’re dedicated to raising awareness and to making the production the best it can be. It is very powerful and moving because these students are there for a reason—not for acting, but for the message.”

The message—stopping violence against women—is intertwined with a general embrace of female sexuality.

Several portions of the play have descriptions of sex, love, menstruation, masturbation, birth, and orgasm. Generally more humorous than the other parts of the play, these monologues tend to win over the audience.

“The show is supposed to be funny and enlightening about the issue,” Maryles says. “There is a lot of energy in it. It’s done in a funny way, though it speaks a lot of truth.”

“These are people’s stories,” says Lauren Pollow, a senior psychology major and a “Vagina Monologues” cast member.

“If they aren’t politically correct, well, that’s life, isn’t it?”

As an art form, the V-Day show has its merits. There’s a more important factor, however—its impact on the audience and public in general. There is a discrepancy between the show’s effect on those who watch it and those who do not.

Continued on page 19 GENERATION February 9, 2010

The Voter’s Dilemma

Toy Giraffes and Self-Realization

By Jordan Brown There are common sayings that dogs and their owners start to look alike and maybe even act alike, that husbands and wives start to become the same person. This social osmosis of surrounding yourself with stuff that you oddly become was always confusing to me. It didn’t make any sense. Things don’t just start looking like other things… or acting like other things.

Could it be a subconscious choice that we picked that dog or that person because we saw in them something familiar?

Part of me believes this is true, but another part of me believes there is a supernatural bonding between a person and everything else.

Let me start by saying that the giraffe has always been my favorite animal.

When I was 4 or 5 years old, I had a toy giraffe that my mother bought for me at a garage sale. He was my favorite. Who knew it would be the start of a life-changing journey of selfrealization? Who knew? Not my mom when she took me to that garage sale… not the toy giraffe.

Or maybe…

Anyway, I took him everywhere with me—to take baths, to eat, to bed, everywhere.

One morning my mom took me to the doctor’s office for a checkup, and of course I invited my toy giraffe. I was playing in the waiting room with some toys that were there, having a good time. There were other kids I didn’t know, there were toys I had never seen. Now, I don’t know if it was out of sheer thrill of all of the other toys and kids, or because I was nervous about the doctor, but I forgot my toy giraffe.

I FORGOT MY TOY GIRAFFE! I’m not sure when I actually realized that I did not have my giraffe, but I know that when I did, I was devastated. There was definitely some intense crying and whimpering involved. For my first experience with heartbreak, I was fairly well composed.

My parents tried to help me recover from my loss by purchasing me replacement giraffes, but much like a dead pet or sibling, no substitute will ever be equal in pure awesomeness to the original. None of the toy giraffes were quite the same. I couldn’t expect my parents to understand; only I had spent countless hours with him. Only I had told him all my secrets.

Only I had snuggled with him at night when the house was creaky and the thunder was crashing.

How could they understand?

After six months of mourning and sorrow, I had to go back to the same place where I lost my favorite thing in world. I knew this trip was going to be hard, but as any 5-year-old will tell you; sometimes you just have to suck it up and face adversity.

I sat in the waiting room, hesitant to play with any of the toys, but I stubbornly rummaged through them. I got to the bottom of the pile when my eyes welled up with tears—there he was, my toy giraffe! He wasn’t gone. He was right where I left him. I’m pretty sure this moment was and is the happiest moment of my life to this day. It will take a lot to top the moment when I was reunited with my giraffe.

I’m not quite sure when the giraffe and I parted ways again, or why, but I’m sure that it was not as traumatic as that previous separation.

I think we came to a mutual understanding that we were both young and needed to explore the world and experience life to its fullest. He knew nothing about being a human and I knew nothing about reaching to the highest branch on the tallest tree to eat leaves. Although he left me physically, maybe he never really left me.

Now I’m 19 years old and I’m a lot like my giraffe. I’m tall, clumsy, oddly adorable, and extremely awkward. I’m not sure if it’s just by happenstance that I turned out this way, or if my toy giraffe is living vicariously through me.

Either way, I rock.

The Student Association debates included a little too much mudslinging.

Is this a sign of passion or simply American politics as usual?

By Ren LaForme

The election might only be for undergraduates, but anyone who appreciates good entertainment should have stopped by the Student Union Theater on March 18 for the Student Association debates.

It was like watching the Democratic Socialists of America take a wrong turn and wander into a Tea Party convention.

Generation has been advised not to endorse a candidate this year—two people running are on our board of directors, and we know what happens when we piss off the men upstairs— but that doesn’t mean we can’t poke a little fun at everyone.

God knows they deserve it.

It was a thing of beauty. You had a bunch of schmucks—me, Spectrum’s Steve Marth, SA President Ernesto Alvarado and Joshua Boston from the SA Election and Credentials Committee—asking the candidates probing questions about money, experience and the giant inflatable SA balloon that was buzzing away behind them.

Something interesting was bound to happen. And it did.

We launched our bombs at the vice-presidential candidates first. Michael Kraich from SLICE, Shervin Stoney from Student Alliance and Kevin Southern from the ONE Party stood on stage, each at a podium. Things seemed civil at first. Each candidate answered

our questions, politely and succinctly. Southern highlighted his lengthy tenure as a residential adviser and his advocacy for increased funding as president for the UB Step Troupe.

Stoney reminded us that he’s been in SA for three years and his position as coordinator for the Sports Club Council. Kraich honestly and admirably conceded that he doesn’t have the experience of the other candidates, but that he’s open to student input and he wants to talk.

If it sounds like I’m sugarcoating it a bit, that’s because I am. The debate, at several points, devolved into an all-out mudsling between Southern and Stoney, with Southern doing most of the slinging and Stoney taking the hits, returning the favor here and there. It got so bad at some points that audience members began to complain. Kraich managed to escape the fray, but mostly because, by his own admission, he hasn’t been very involved with campus politics.

It’s really hard to find fault with the candidates for all of this. They’re all clearly very passionate about the roles they’re chasing. I’d be more concerned if they were less tempestuous at this point in the race.

The presidential candidates managed to be a little more

civil. There weren’t as many open warfare moments as there were with the potential VPs, but the candidates managed to get their jabs in. Alliance candidate Nischal Vasant called the SA balloon “wasteful spending,” and someone called him out later for having signed off on it in his role in the SA Senate. But he knows how SA works and I’ve seen worse candidates come through in the past few years.

ONE Party candidate and current SA Treasurer Jordan Fried politely thanked everyone for each very good question he was asked. He came across as a little bit cocky, but he’s leaving next year’s SA with a $300,000 surplus, so maybe he’s within his rights. SLICE candidate Guillermo Delgado again touted his party’s outsider attitude, and pondered salary cuts for E-board members, but fell short on experience. You have to hand it to those SLICE boys though; they were certainly the most civil candidates there.

The treasurer candidates, ONE Party’s Ryan Linden and Alliance’s Antonio Roman, brought back the fireworks.

Roman once again highlighted the wasteful spending—$3,500 for the SA blimp and $20,000 for SA-branded flash drives for freshmen—but Linden shot back that Roman had OK’d the purchases. Roman protested

that he does not have signatory powers over spending, Fried does, and the two continued to bicker about the importance of job descriptions. Linden then asserted that Roman oversaw a loss in his role as treasurer of Sub-Board, but he followed that up by saying that there is always wasteful spending in any budget and he didn’t see “anything too bad” in SA’s in his role as head bookkeeper.

Except for, you know, that GIANT blimp behind him.

Things were ugly at points, it’s true, but these candidates clearly have the passion and the drive necessary to run the Student Association and its $4 million yearly budget. The great ideas and wide arrays of experience smattered among the candidates ensure that no matter who wins, SA will be in good hands next year. You can find out more by searching for SLICE, the Student Alliance and the ONE Party on Facebook.

All undergraduates should exercise their right to vote on March 23, March 24 and March 25 in the Student Union. You only need your student ID and a good idea of what you want in an E-board. Delegates are also running, so check them out as well.

ubgeneration.com | 11

CV Generation (Vertical):Layout 1 3/18/10 4:42 AM Page 3

Collegiate Village Student Apartments

People to meet, things to do, places to go!

“Collegiate Village is my small town in a big city.”

Elizabeth Larson Business Administration Class of 2010

To see what is happening at CV this month, go to cvwny.com > Gated Community - on over 50 acres > FREE heat, internet and cable! > FREE shuttles- to 7 campuses, Wegmans, The Galleria Mall and more! > Rent Deferral Program - use your financial aid to help pay your rent > Explore Buffalo- with a new outing every month

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Americana revived The subdudes @ the Tralf

By Melissa Wright The Tralf is bustling by 8 p.m.—not quite standing-room-only status, but the swanky, jazz club style tables (you know, the much desired, “I live in NYC” feel) have been claimed. The crowd mostly consists of middle-aged groups of friends; happy to have a seat, and perhaps to still be able to hear one another speak over the appropriate volume of the opening act. The ticket price and beer costs remind you that you’re not at Broadway Joe’s for 25-cent pitchers night.

This is Buffalo class.

The opening act has the stage until about 8:30.

He’s a good opener for the subdudes, setting the stage with some down home blues slide guitar and storytelling scat.

The interlude between the opening act and the subdudes is a bit on the lengthy side as the subdudes’ crew steps out and tunes the line up of guitars on display. The first thing I notice about the instrumental display is that there’s no drum kit. I get excited.

There’s something bristling and fresh about a drum-less band, the kind that gives you the feel that you lived before rock ‘n’ roll, when you only watched the local bands down the at the VFW and they stood across the stage in that bluegrass row fashion and the whole town had a hunky dory time dancing the evening away.

This evening didn’t go all that differently, save us all being town folk.

As the subdudes take the stage, the crowd doesn’t exactly “go wild,” but there is some general arousal: some clapping, some elbow nudging and pointing. Lead singer Tommy Malone gets on the microphone. “Well, hey, hey, hey, good evening everybody. Thanks for coming,” he says with a sweet southern accent.

They jump into the first song, “Light in Your Eyes,” and it has a bubbly, quick pace as the bongo and rhythm guitar gives a backdrop of almost African-style beats. I try to suspend my judgement, but I cannot help but think that the song could find its way onto a Disney sound track, specifically “The Lion King.” It’s that PG sound that you hear at the end of cheesy movie montages where adults and babies alike all start dancing in world-connecting joy.

And then they go into a jam. Guitarist Tim Cook rips into a meaty solo full of arpeggio fun.

Bass player Jimmy Messa meets him with an escalating tempo. Malone turns to his side to engage with the rest of the band. Their musicianship is indisputable. Plus, they’re having fun.

After a couple songs, Malone offers some candidness about the music. “We got a new record coming out. It ain’t so new now. It came out in September. It’s new enough. It’s a story album.

There’s a story line running through it. Alternate title: Battle of the brain vs. the loin.” He laughs along with the audience. “The loin prevails generally, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Did I mention yet that there’s an accordion? If you close your eyes and simply listen, you might not think so, but John Magnie on accordion and vocals plays it like, well, like he’s got soul. As their Web site so accurately describes, it’s more Ray Charles than polka.

In the place of a standard drum kit is a base drum and disconnected snare. Cook will also occasionally lay down his guitar (why, I don’t know) and play the tambourine. His tambourine playing is not the standard “let’s pull a girl out of the audience to shake her money maker.”

It becomes a part of the percussion, and a vital one at that.

The absence of the standard kit has some weight in the history of the band too. Their first gig ever consisted of just a guitar, tambourine and accordion. Percussionist Steve Amedée put the band together and wanted to produce an unplugged sound. Back then he would use a spatula to tap out rhythms on the tambourine.

In 2010, the sound is certainly plugged in, but every other song of the evening seems to bring us back to their southern-style roots. It’s as if they experiment and then pull themselves back home: a recurring nostalgia for New Orleans and soulful blues with slide guitar and unbelievable vocal harmony.

The experimentation took the audience all over the genre-feeding world: from their first bongo-scintillation, to “Late at Night” that had airs of Jimmy Buffet, to “Too Soon to Tell,” a country song originally sung by Bonnie Raite.

Before the music picks up in “Late at Night,” Magnie gives a few moments of spoken word, mentioning something about how late at night it is. I immediately grab my phone. It’s not even 10:30. I look out into the audience and all signs

of a “late night” are in session. The once empty dance floor, save the brave couple with trained moves, is now flooded. The baby boomer crowd is a few pitchers in and rolling their sleeves up.

Just when you think the song is a bit cheesy, they break it down. Suddenly, the definition of late at night is not a party song to get e’rybody riled up, but a soulful cry for help. “Lord, you gotta help me now,” Magnie sings, evolving the song into a gospel powerhouse, in which the rest of the instruments quiet down and his voice beckons into the microphone. His voice is raspy and worn as he pleads convincingly again, “Lord, you got to help me now!”

Around mid-set with the crowd getting perpetually friskier, one gets the sense that these guys really have a following. Even here in Buffalo, folks seem to know the music and sing along. A woman cries out to the band to play a specific song, though it’s barely audible, her vocal chords shrill and high pitched. Malone answers her. “All right, honey bun. All right, my little muffin. Maybe if you stick around.”

A peppier country song comes on next and while it certainly gets a few surrounding women off their bar stools and on to their imaginary cowboy boots, I can’t help but think it sounds like it’s off the country top 20 list or reminiscent of Bruce Springstein, (singed into our consciousness) American rock.

Here I am, exposing my biases, but I can’t help that I like them best when they’re doing that funky, raspy, slow-it-down-to-the-point-thatyou’re-a-beat-behind blues. And at that same time, sure, these songs are beautiful, but they’re simply not the party favorites.

Speaking of party favorites, Malone introduces a tune dedicated to the earlier days, when a certain band of peace-loving “trouble-makers” rolled in to good ole’ N.O. “We got a song about some hippies that came to town in the ’70s and shook stuff up. Boy did they shake stuff up,” he says, “to the point where you would hear your mother say ‘don’t go hanging out with those hippies!’ It was fun.” He smiles. “You could smell some type of smoke wafting out the window.

Not sure what that smoke was. Probably just oil burning from the bus.” The crowd giggles in

delight.

Just as the song starts, Malone asks, “Anybody got any incense?”

As the song picks up, I can’t help but laugh to myself when I hear one of the alternate chorus lines. “Love is a beautiful thing/ Sing, hippy girl sing.” I imagine Flight of the Concords coming up with a similar song, sardonically naive and dead serious about their love of hippy chicks.

Overall, there seems a vibe of the old days in the air as more and more people get on their feet and bustle about. Also in the air is the faintest whiff of the smoke from… bus oil. Dead serious, man. Bus oil smoke, but just a hint of it.

Getting a bit antsy for a change of pace, I ask the doorman what to expect. “There’ll be an encore. Stick around,” he says. I walk back to the stage area and Magnie comes out, looking like he’s into mischief and asks, “How about we abandon the microphones and come out here and sing a song or two?”

The band comes back to the stage and walks right off into the audience, each member carrying an acoustic instrument. Magnie has a harmonica, Malone has an acoustic guitar, Messa, an acoustic bass, Cook has some mini maracas of sorts, and Amedée has a tambourine. They push into the crowd. One woman leans in to hug each of them—I had underestimated the Buffalo fan base.

By this time everyone is out of their seats and huddling around them, as a music circle begins and a wave of “shh” echoes across the room.

“These aren’t that loud,” Malone says, laughing with his big, loving smile.

After a few moments, they begin “The Rain.”

It is soft, personal—a realistically intimate love song. Magni’s voice is freer than ever and really made to be un-mic’d. You feel like you’re bearing witness to a fragment of their original vibe: unplugged. It brings me back to my earlier criticisms of their more “rock” music. Something felt a bit off, contrived. Here, literally touching the members of the crowd, they’re joking, their voices soft and as if you were friends for 20 years.

Continued on page 19

ubgeneration.com | 13

Watch the

Clock

How do you get home at 4 o’clock in the morning? Though still young, the 24-hour busing service may not last much longer, according to student officials. Does this mean cutting frat parties short and making a study session in Capen Library end on an early note from now on? And how many students actually use this service?

By Kathryn Przybyla

“Y

o, I look like a crackhead,” says one male student in a flat-rimmed black hat, getting on the UB Stampede Thursday night. He hands his buddy an ID as they sit down in an empty row.

“Ask me my birthday, just ask me my birthday. I’m serious. I got this,” he goes on.

“What’s that third base place? Or fourth base? Or whatever the hell it is,” says the other male student, as he hands back his friend’s slightly sketchy card.

“Dude I totally look 24 and it’s highly legal to use a fake up here anyways. I spent good money on this,” the second student says.

No one gets on the bus as the Stampede slowly comes to a stop at the Governors Residence Hall. It sits idling for a few minutes and leaves. There is no music playing and the lights are all off. The underagers are sitting in the back, strategizing their plans for the night. Another student sits in an odd combination of a black parka, paired with some colorful Hawaiian print shorts. Possibly on his way back from Alumni Arena, he is too pre-occupied with his iPod blasting music to overhear the 14 | ubgeneration.com

other students. The bus seems empty with a total of four students using the transportation tonight.

Implemented this past October, the 24hour busing program has been in effect now for six months. It is the result of one of the objectives on the original platform of former SA President Hassan Farah, current SA President Ernesto Alvarado and current SA Treasurer Jordan Fried. According to the SA Budget General Leger, $34,896.84 was spent on the three semesters on the 24-hour busing program. Although getting that number is not as easy as it sounds.

While all of SA’s expenditures are listed and visible in the online general ledger, the format can be extremely overwhelming to navigate. Vague and non-descriptive wording is used for certain expenditures that can be misleading and confusing to comprehend just exactly what money is being spent on. For example, the 24-hour busing line is listed under three subcategories, including current club budget, officers and coordinators, and innovative programming. Searching for a quick budget to non-club expenditures turned out to

be quite the task.

“This semester, 24-hour busing was just pretty much an agreement between the Student Association, the administration, and the Parking and Transportation here on campus. If we footed the costs for the first semester of 24-hour busing, it was successful, and there was a high demand for it, then they would agree to pay for the second semester of busing. This would happen as long as we maintained the funding for the Anti-Rape Task Force’s extended hours,” Alvarado says.

He thinks the program is working and says that the overall feedback for the program has been positive. “I’ve heard things ranging from ‘I didn’t have any way to get home after a long night of partying’ to ‘I need to study in Capen for my final exam and needed a way back home’. So the buses are being used by a large portion of the student population.”

Alvarado has not yet taken advantage of the 24-hour busing program himself.

Along with undergraduates, Nicole Jowsey, president of the Graduate Student Association, says that many graduate students are appreciative of the program.

But she is uncertain about the program’s future.

“At a [recent] meeting on the comprehensive fee, a question was raised about the service. The reps who attended were told that the transportation department did not have money budgeted for it next year,” she says. “So the future of 24-hour busing appears to be in question, but again, I cannot say for sure one way or another.”

Jowsey has also not taken advantage of the 24-hour busing service.

Alvarado was also very skeptical of a bright future for this program. “As of now, the administration has not put 24-hour busing in their budget for next year, so that is something that whoever comes after me is going to have to deal with to try and get it back,” he says. “It’s up the new president. It’s up to the SA. It’s up to how aggressively they want to approach that initiative.”

The 24-hour busing service was a hot topic at the SA candidate debate Thursday, March 18. All present parties mentioned it at some point with some very different approaches to the issue. Nischal Vasant, the SA presidential candidate for the Student GENERATION February 9, 2010

Alliance party, proposed that buses run until 4 a.m. to save costs. “That is all we really need it for,” he said.

Fried, now the SA presidential candidate for the ONE Party, had a different opinion.

Fried revealed that the administration has room in the budget for 24-hour busing.

The students need it, he said, and there is no reason to get rid of it. He also mentioned that he has taken advantage of the

while when I come back from Governors it’s later then 2 a.m., but really anything later than 4 a.m. is wasteful. An hourly bus is more than adequate for weekdays.”

On the other hand, numerous students were very adamant about keeping the program available. International Fiesta practices and studying late in Capen Library were just a few of the reasons why Boaz Tang, a sophomore psychology major,

week now because of them.”

He stops outside for a quick cigarette break as the bus is parked. “We’ll wait around five minutes to see if anyone needs a lift,” he says.

Padden walks around to the bus parked in front of his bus at Ellicott, outside Fillmore, and speaks to the other driver for a while. “I tried to get the other driver to come talk to you quickly, but he’s kind of a

helping the average student occasionally at best. Though that’s not to say having a mode of transportation available to slightly intoxicated students at 5 a.m. is a bad idea. Having empty buses run on a daily basis seems like a waste of money, especially if an estimated 65 percent of the university’s student population is considered commuter students.

Most commuter students own cars or

“As of now, the administration has not put 24-hour busing in their budget for next year, so that is something that whoever comes after me is going to have to deal with to try and get it back.”

- Ernesto Alvarado, SA president 24-hour bus service between 2 a.m. and 7 a.m. on several occasions.

The 24-hour busing program is a great concept on paper, but the student body still seems split on whether it is necessary.

“The busing seems to be used primarily for drunk kids who want to party later in the night. The claim was that students living on South could study on North later, but couldn’t they just use empty classrooms on South or study in their rooms?

That’s what we usually do on North anyway,” says Elizabeth Horner, a junior biological sciences major. “In my opinion, it’s silly to make us responsible students pay for a longer-running drunk bus.”

Alex Matthews, a junior biology major agrees. “Money could be spent on more computers and printers for the Blake Academic Center,” he says. “Every once in a

thought that the 24-hour busing should stay. Lily Kweon, a junior speech and hearing major agrees. “The 24-hour busing should stay because if you were studying in Capen after the last bus has left, you would just have to spend the night in the library and stick it out,” she says.

The future of the program will have an impact on more than just students.

Bus driver Ed Padden is driving the later shift tonight from 7:30 p.m. to 3 a.m. His white hair and dark eyebrows are reminiscent of a grandfather who tells you stories when he would visit. Padden turns around and stares at the empty bus and asks politely, “Did I miss your stop or something?

Where are you headed tonight?” As he learns about this article he reveals, “Those late night drivers are loving the extra shifts, [they are] getting 25-plus hours a

shy guy,” he says when he returns. Two female students walk onto the bus as Padden gets it ready to drive off again. With their hands full of books, it’s doubtful that they are prepping for a long night of partying.

The 24-hour busing program seems like a great option for the UB community, although it’s slowly becoming clear that it has been only benefiting students in extreme situations. There was those couple of nights this past semester where you just could not find a ride home from the Steer and the UB Stampede was waiting.

Or there was those couple of nights this past semester when leaving Capen Library before 4 a.m. was just not an option while cramming for your chemistry final, and the UB Stampede was waiting.

But many agree that the program needs to be re-worked. The program seems to be

use other means of transportation to make it to campus.

With the UB administration leaving funding for the 24-hour busing program out of their budget, students might have to find their own rides home after 2 a.m. next semester. But Jowsey holds out hope for the program.

“I hope that the administration will fund this service, as it benefits all types of students. They should take interest in providing something that their students are using and is beneficial,” she says. “One of the most important issues that is connected with 24-hour busing, and what should be important to the administration as to whether or not they fund it in the future, is safety.”

ubgeneration.com | 15

blueprint Generation asks:

What’s on your mind these days?

John Barclay Simpson

Jay Leno

Tiger Woods

Eric Massa

Late night talk show host

Professional golfer, adulterer

U.S. Representative

UB President

“God, my show sucks, but I don’t care! No matter what I do, NBC will never let me go.

Now, whenever I can’t come up with a good joke, which is most of the time, I can just play a low-res YouTube video of someone falling. Life is good.”

“I hate texting. Now the whole world knows I like to distribute golden showers. Whatever, don’t knock it until you try it.

I’m just going to sneak back into the Masters and kick some ass. Haters can stand by and watch.”

“Tickle, tickle, tickle! I love tickling! What’s so wrong with that? It’s my favorite thing to do, besides screwing with Glenn Beck. I would rather tickle than have an awesome family and a great job. Yup, I just love it that much.“

“What the hell was Methods of Inquiry? I saw that little oddity in the budget, so I snipped it.

What? It was a class? Well who the hell cares about those? It’s not like students come here to learn or anything.”

Lil Wayne Prisoner “Money, dawg. That’s what’s on my mind. Always 24/7, like that UB busing. Yeah, I know I’m in jail, but I’m still making it rain.”

If you haven’t figured it out by now, there are a few April Fools pranks in this issue. You’ve probably already flipped to page 23 to check out the personals, right? Sorry about that.

Some UB Student Drunk “This band was playing at my grandma’s nursing home.

They were all emo and singing about their problems. Like, no.

These people have real problems. Like prostate cancer.”

nickel city NAACP: Equity beyond race?

A racial, cultural and national examination by Abraham C. L. Munson-Ellis

T

hese observations are not to dismiss challenges of other cultures, or ethnic horrors or tragedies, but to direct attention, awareness and action for all of earth and her inhabitants.

The American dream is an ideal that has tangibility and substance as iconic as the majestic bald eagle or as empowering as Philadelphia’s Liberty bell. Thoughts of creating something from nothing has become the staple of the “American Dream”—a dream, the dream for many… with one critical group as an exception.

Authority figures discourage being united for the sake of unity. Building strength and gaining support are mythical and foreign to anyone who has suffered and been deprived of hope, progress or opportunity.

Historical situations display humankind’s ability for cruelty, greed and selfishness. To be bound, shackled and conditioned for service and the residual long-term effects of physical, verbal and mental abuses while being forced to create “a dream” is the expectation of many African descendants.

These same people have lived their lives in a parallel universe as polarized opposites to the established authority that sets societal agenda and acceptance.

Humankind’s progress displays the rare and excitable period in history as we traveled and began to cover even greater distances in shorter periods of time. The value of African lands and her people(s) have been of great interest to the crown of Great Britain and other period developed countries, as each rushed to claim large African areas to control, systematically eliminating the culture, languages and ego of the indigenous peoples.

America continued practices of horrific kidnapping and has offered the world a lasting impression on slavery and forced labor long after Great Britain’s Slavery Abolition Act of 1833 abolished slavery throughout most of the British Empire (with the notable exceptions of the territories in the possession of the East India Company).

The American story of black

people is missing and the longterm dehumanization by those that have dismissed black Americans as invisible, rejects and unintelligent is unsettling. People of color have been called black, brown, mocha, cocoa, and any other colorful or tasteless assortments with reference to the African location and appearance historically. Many descendants from the western shores of the African coast, rich with meaningful history and treasures, went through the pain and awful events of the slaving experience. There are as many facets of life, living and learning, and not all the possibilities gleam as strongly or as beautifully as diamonds from this incredible land. Experts, scholars and intellectuals offer earlier and questionable supporting information from their observations of Africa, as they claimed it as a place where savages and wild creatures roamed about and that they could save the lower inhabitants.

“Youthful and energetic leadership can offer new opportunities and approaches that the current leadership may be unfamiliar with,” says Demone A. Smith, a Masten District Buffalo Common Council member.

The motto and purpose statement of the NAACP is to “ensure the political, educational, social, and economic equality of all citizens” and to “eliminate race prejudice.” A 64-member board runs the NAACP. The board elects a president and chief executive officer for the national organization. Benjamin Jealous is its most recent—and, at 37, its youngest—president, replacing Bruce S. Gordon, who resigned in March 2007. Health care administrator and 25-year NAACP insider Roslyn M. Brock replaced as chairperson in Feb. 2010 former politician and chairperson H. Julian Bond.

But many express unfamiliarity in the NAACP, and a lack of its presence in any current events for civil or human rights.

Lillie Wiley-Upshaw, vice dean for Admissions and Financial Aid, and Leah G. Calnek, administrative assistant in the Alumni Department,

mentioned the lack of current NAACP initiatives. In a phone conversation with Frank B. Mesiah, president of the NAACP Buffalo branch and vice president of the NYS Conference and the Western Region director, he mentioned the organizations’ volunteers as a major component of the activities for the Buffalo branch.

Overcoming difficulty and challenges has been the catalyst for this nation under God. The offspring of many of those who have survived the horrible acts of slave merchants and their employees can still feel the after-effects. The actions may not be as blatant as lynching, or the sharecropper’s dilemma, or even the Jim Crow Laws, but it is still relevant—a black Philadelphia police officer vacationing in Mississippi, for example, becomes the only suspect in a murder due to his color.

For a simple time, there was simple casting—African descendant were called nigger, monkey, boy, and a host of other dehumanizing descriptions and posted images, not to mention lynching and outright murder of black people. The lives of African descendants were chaotic, ever changing and abusive. Slaves were valued to sell and exchange as property.

Black women, children and men were constantly and consistently taken, traded and sold to cover debts and other fiduciary matters—some forcefully, and others killed for showing sorrow, resistance or defiance.

Those not killed but seriously maimed would later die due to neglect and continued abuse.

Today there is a very different approach, yet an eerie semblance to past actions and the days that treasured black servitude and slavery.

Today, “the NAACP is missing in action,” says Stephen J. Hicks, SUNY alumnus.

Looking at any news or media, there are stories of violence, crime and typical wrongdoings mostly linked to “black” behavior and the lack of social skills and/or social tools and/ or resources. Images display

Continued on page 19

Get in shape without lifting weights

By Kathryn Przybyla etting those six-pack abs out G of hibernation and into warmweather shape may seem like a te-

dious task, but there are so many options besides the overcrowded Alumni Arena fitness center.

Getting creative and looking for different alternatives to staying in shape can be half the battle. If you are not enjoying what you’re doing, then you won’t keep it up.

“I lap swim in Alumni about three days a week to stay in shape. It gives me a great workout and I really enjoy it,” says Katie Allen, a junior communication and psychology major. “I also do Bikram yoga once or twice a week. It is not on campus but in the Buffalo community. The hour and a half class in 102-degree heat is the best workout and totally works my entire body, an incredible feeling.”

The Recreation and Intramurals office offers some amazing group fitness classes during the week. Monday through Saturday, students can participate in body sculpt, indoor cycling, yoga, pilates, water aerobics, turbo kick and Zumba at both Alumni Arena on North Campus and Clark Hall on South Campus. Check out ubathletics.buffalo.edu/recreation for more information on classes.

Jessianne Doty, a junior exercise science major, has participated in a lot of these classes, but would like to see a better variety. “A really fun class I’ve been to was belly dancing. They offer that class on South Campus sometimes, but it would be much more convenient if there was a class like that on North Campus as well,” she says.

“A pole dancing class would be awesome, too. I hear it’s a really hard whole body workout.” The

Recreation and Intramurals office changes their schedule every semester, with the potential for new, exciting classes each year.

If you can’t to commit to a weekly class, Wellness Education Services offers some pretty handy programs. All UB students can access the Desktop Spa online from the confines of their rooms.

Desktop Spa is a Web-based program that offers direct, 24-hour access to a variety of innovative complementary and preventive health treatments. You can learn brief health practice applications like yoga, meditation and guided imagery. This is perfect for the extra-busy student who can only spare a few minutes a day to stay fit.

Wellness Education Services also offers TestWell. This online program is a multi-dimensional wellness assessment that helps students identify their relative strengths and weaknesses regarding a wide range of health-related behaviors. TestWell can help discover target areas for risk reduction and health management. It only takes 10 minutes and offers immediate feedback for your own personal goal setting. Find more information on these at studentaffairs.buffalo.edu/shs/wes.

And now that it is getting warmer, there are a lot great ways to stay fit and get your body ready for bikini weather. Try running outside with a friend instead of the jogging track at Alumni Arena. Once the nets get back up, rent some tennis racquets and hit the courts right by the football stadium for a couple of hours. Even doing 50 crunches a day can benefit your body. Find something you love and stick to it. Staying in shape definitely does the body good. ubgeneration.com | 17

vaudeville Napoleon

A sonnet by William Shakespeare Oh small one, thou art sharp of tongue and dress, Thine shoes tap lightly on the hardened wood.

Keen art thou on putting forth phosphoresce, Whilst all gaze down the spot at which thou stood.

The stage of thine minions shakes with… well… no.

None cower in the face of such most mad.

Back balloon not just where hot air blows, Caught up thou art in ploys so undergrad.

Abandoning the lute for dreams most chased, Statesmen’s questions fall on deaf and dumb ears.

Justification for the pennies’ waste, But soft— the statesmen don’t release their cheers.

Oh small one, thou art quick with fancy wit, Thou dost put on a most amusing skit.

G

By Dino Husejnovic

COMING NEXT ISSUE:

• An exclusive, behind-the-bars interview with Lil Wayne.

• A letter to drunk students from John B. Simpson.

• Some of those cool perfume sample pull-out things.

• Porn.

• Words and pictures and stuff.

18 | ubgeneration.com

• A cover image featuring two people doing it doggy-style in a lecture hall.

• Your mom.

• The entire health care bill.

• Complaints about the personals April Fools joke on the cover.

• PERSONALS ARE BACK! • (Just kidding.)

SPRING IS COMING SOON! LETS CELEBRATE WITH HAIKUS! YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT! Bill Maher is coming.

Need to hide all the women From his giant fist.

Generation’s cool.

I feel so fucking awesome Off to Spectrum now

Spring break was a tease.

The sun is coming to play.

No one will study.

As if thy was an Irish He mocked the man Who vanished.

Oh, SATV. Any shows to recommend?

Won’t watch anyway.

Big old snow phallus, Cum back next year for more fun You sir, were shafted

SA election Brings out the good in us all.

You feel déjà vu?

He wears sweater vests. über cool magazine man.

Yes, his name is Ren.

Give me Good Friday.

Go home and pray for an A. You feel me UB?

Gave up snow for Lent.

I am going to heaven.

The sun is out now.

Got senioritis.

Wait, it’s only junior year.

Oh well, FML.

OK, done for now.

I should have been studying.

Instead, wrote haikus.

The gunman still loose?

Was just spotted in Lockwood.

J/K lolz.

Why are you half-dressed?

Leggings will never be pants.

Too fucking cold here.

D. Black is the man.

Free Jamba Juice for us all.

Just a dream, my friend.

No more personals.

It’s much classier, you see.

Farewell, flag room whore.

It’s not summer yet.

Stop wearing shorts and flip-flops.

You look like douche bags.

People with flyers: Your group wastes so much paper.

I hate the union.

My cat’s next to me.

He really loves a nice pet.

And, yes, so do I.

I’m on the Stampede.

It’s Friday night, someone pukes.

Now they sing Ke$ha.

Critical InquirCan’t spell it all in haiku.

No wonder it failed.

My dearest iPod. I love all the songs you have.

Except on shuffle.

Did you hear ‘bout this?

Critical Inquiry’s gone.

What’s on my transcript?

O great Internet, You steal so much of my time.

Great boredom killer.

We need an E.C. Who is it going to be?

Me me me me me.

Super Troopers is A great film. Shenanigans Should cause pistol whips.

No, for the last time I don’t want to donate blood.

Blood is for wussies.

Radio today It fucking sucks the big one.

Silence is better.

GENERATION February 9, 2010

Vagina Monologues continued There is also the issue of confronting those who may not be comfortable with the material. Some participants of V-Day have passionate views.

“I would ask the people [who are uncomfortable with the shows] to try to find the root of why they are uncomfortable,” Zapfel says. “Is it because of the controversial topics that are being put out in the open? Is it the fact that these shows take an unapologetic approach in how it blames the society we live in for promoting gender inequality and sexual violence? Is it their personal beliefs? I fully believe that when we are uncomfortable with something, learning can grow from the experience. We should be open and willing to accept something different.”

American Sign Language professor Emily Glenn-Smith, a “Vagina Monologues” cast member, believes that the show’s candidness is where it gets its power.

“Because the show is so straight forward and very candid about women’s experiences, it becomes almost personal to the performers and the audience,” she says.

“When reading or seeing information at a glance, it won’t hit home as often as one person sitting down and telling you a story.

That is what ‘The Vagina Monologues’ is doing—telling a personal story about real life.”

Glenn-Smith, who will be translating certain monologues during the performance—“vagina” in Sign Language is made by connecting your thumbs and index fingers together, making a diamond shape—“hopes to see the show make an equal impact on both audiences.”

The V-Day campaign shares the same sentiment. Its unique approach to combating violence and oppression

NAACP continued against woman has gathered an immense following over the years. UB’s hosting of the event will put some meaning into the three words the “V” in V-Day stands for: victory, valentine and vagina.

subdudes continued Talk about down to earth.

Their next and last song was “Sugar Pie” and everyone sang along. This was the pinnacle for the long-time fans; you could tell.

I struggled to get a closer shot of this musical history and everyone around me urged me to move in front of him or her. It felt as if the next few moments were ours, as a group. A sombre, humbling, feel-good humanity vibe swept the room. I felt a little bit guilty to be filming half the acoustic encore. It seemed as if this moment should be experienced with active awe—being in the moment for the band that gave you the moment.

Americana music feels revived in this moment, the fusion of soul, blues, country, and rock without the pretension, with the enthusiasm and candid self-expression.

blackness as an all-out evil and the remedy offered… immediate jail, long-term incarceration, awkward probation standards, and other restricting actions that are harsher for African descendant’s errors in judgment, versus the punishment for the offspring of European descendants.

Like the 1990s’ images of O. J. Simpson in police custody on the covers of the Time magazine and the Newsweek issues that displayed a negative aura of “Dangerous Black Man.” These publications and other recent media activity have given new life to old stereotypes and negativity. Some have given regard to the Jar Jar Binks character of the “Star Wars” prequels. Critics say the character is a thinly veiled version of those used in black-faced minstrelsy to lampoon the supposed stupidity of African descendants. The imagery and the spotlight can be redirected with resources, training and educational opportunities that focus on creating unity, promotion and achievement.

“The economy has our [people’s] alignment on financial improvements more than social ills,” says Dr. Curtis Haynes, Jr., Ellicott District Buffalo Common Council member.

There is a scene from “American History X,” in which a black man, who allegedly burglarized a pick-up, is shot and killed by a white aggressor who places his mouth on a curb and stomps on his head. Or the offduty authority figure (police officer) who falls victim to stereotyping and kills a person who attempts to show similarities of choice; from the movie “Crash.”

Once again people of color have been violated, physically abused, murdered, and harmed by any assortments of names,

titles and negatives not related to human feeling, emotions or hardships—physical abuse without regard for understanding the relationship of appearance and history from the African coast.

Toma T. Dedaj, a third-year law student, Mary Ann Wachowiak, and Charles B. Sears, Law Library head of circulation, named Oliver Brown et al. v. Board of Education of Topeka et al as the NAACP’s most significant event, in which the Supreme Court review was handled by the NAACP chief counsel, Thurgood W. Marshall, who argued the case for the plaintiffs and was later appointed to the United States Supreme Court in 1967.

The black American experience is an exercise that few can claim; yet scores of observers give opinions and suggestions of the black experience. We should dismiss all references of color, race, sex, and gender, and focus on life improvements for our global family. The symbols of positive (+) and negative (-) may be polar opposites, as up and down, but each has a necessary association with the other for balance.

“Equity and responsibility should be the goal of us all,” says Camille Simonetti, a counseling graduate student in the school of psychology. “With equality as our goal, human kind can truly make a positive impact for all of our lives, and subtract the pain of stereotyping, physical abuse, sexism, profiling, ageism, several mental issues, division, violence and racism.”

ubgeneration.com | 19

literary Meeting Atwood vs. Reading Atwood

By Josh Q. Newman When Margaret Atwood came to UB, the English department was ecstatic. I ran into a professor whose usual aplomb was cut short as he was heading toward the event for English majors. We were to meet the 70-year-old Canadian author in the special library collection at 420 Capen Hall for a one-to-one discussion about her life and considerable breadth of work. He was breathing heavily and looked nervous. I was surprised. I’d never seen him like this. He was like me.

Everyone in the room was the same.

Seeing Atwood in the flesh is for English majors what seeing Lebron James or Hillary Clinton is for everyone else. Last year we managed to nab “The Kite Runner” author Khaled Hosseini, and although that was a major honor, nothing quite measured up to this. Authors are usually a reclusive bunch. They don’t seem to like the spotlight.

Pulitzer Prize-winner Cormac McCarthy, for example, did his first TV interview when he was 74 years old. Only a few photos of Thomas Pynchon are known to exist, leading some to quite successfully fabricate outlandish rumors about him (he apparently was the Unabomber). J.D. Salinger, perhaps the most famous recluse, spent the last 40 years of his life in tight seclusion before he passed away this year, granting his last interview in 1980.

Atwood, on the other hand, is a quite public person and has never shied away from media attention. For a relatively unknown state school to get such a pre-

eminent writer to talk to us—not just at the Distinguished Speakers Series but also in an intimate setting like this—was breathtaking.

Atwood arrived at the small event without much fanfare but all eyes were on her. I managed to hear her mutter, “So, this is it,” under her breath as she walked in. She was, if anything, cordial. She said “hello, hello, hello, hello” to a warm welcome. This is it.

The writer of “The Blind Assassin” and “The Handmaid’s Tale,” here, in Buffalo, at UB, face-to-face, in a yellow scarf.

She is a clever woman, not exactly warm but charming in a Radcliffian sort of way.

She shared her stories about growing up in the country and her life as a writer.

Everyone could tell that she was brilliant, exactly the kind of person capable of writing 300 to 400 page novels.

I was the first student to ask her a question. I felt that I was calm, that I could wow everyone with my audacity. I asked her about her use of tenses in “The Handmaid’s Tale;” why she used both past and present at the same time.

She looked at me for a bit and said, “What do you think?”

Everyone laughed. I was taken aback.

I knew beforehand that there was a 50 percent chance she would respond with this, considering my question wasn’t exactly deep. It was high school reading club material. I knew this but I asked anyway because at the moment I didn’t know what else to talk about. I snapped back, almost without pause—and without thinking.

“I asked you first.”

“Well, surely you have a theory.”

Untitled

By Eric Schles

A lilac haze sword and sheath A pulsing vision, eyes ready to melt The gold wasps dive under tones of Bach Sunken lay my heavy hands mallets left where they once were my key, my tool, shaken I tried to calm it with feudal words beneath almost baited breath the air, suddenly clear The katana speared through what was once my endless daydream Memories left poised to return would not seep through the invisible wall I called my conundrum As though seconds slowed my mind came to focus 451 degrees of warmth suddenly burst through me I saw the steadied hand I wept for the brother who never existed And leapt with clear cut continuity with poise and purpose The blow dealt, my mind at a stand still The memories sat and applauded my thirty seconds of heroism like a crossed figure Arms pressed against nothing flown back as though a bird ready to take flight the bruises earned the day waged is there anything in an action even if it means your survival drops to zero?

We all drop to zero, its happening every second, like lilac blown in a typhoon it cannot stand forever Wait for the water, wait for the baited breath The fish no longer hears the screams The highlight no longer sings of mediocrity 20 | ubgeneration.com

Of course, I did. I said that it probably was to differentiate different memories and dialogues. She confirmed this, adding that it’s important to make clear to the reader who’s talking, and her disdain for the pluperfect. After the event, when my cheeks returned to their normal color, I felt both annoyed with her underhanded approach to answering my question and honored that I got zinged by Margaret Atwood.

The event raised the question of whether my reading of her work would change.

I had only read “The Handmaid’s Tale” and I didn’t know much about her other novels. I had to look them up on Wikipedia (no cringes!). Honestly, the event didn’t change my reading much. I didn’t get great insight into her work that I couldn’t find through other sources. Though I didn’t talk to her in person for very long, I thought the experience might have shed a new light on her work. The only thing it did shed light on was the quality of my questions.

In literature, there are theories that suggest the author’s intentions don’t matter.

The readers are the deciders. They are the ones that explicate a work of literature, so meeting the author, though entertaining, may not matter at all. And then there are those that believe the author’s intentions mean everything. The creator decides what a work means and interpretations are merely whacks at guessing it. Meeting the author is the ultimate opportunity for understanding his or her work.

After the event, I tend to agree with the former. Literature ought not be chained by authorial demands, but opened by readerly

pushes at the text. If books are meant for the reader, and for the sake of argument let’s assume that they are, then the reader has full possession of them. What would a book be without its reader? Words on a page, I suppose.

Humoring

By Melissa Wright

Humaning Shout at the universal television eats out of my face breaks out of my nonsense.

Out of the elevator boom - shriek - howl - sigh - crackle humoring one another down the hall.

Mouth muscles tried tired for so long so many are pouting and laughing.

Under the correct behavior pops up on an frenzy that is disturbing. that is perturbing. you are hilarious. that is TOO funny. crack up me)

GENERATION February 9, 2010

No Sunrise The witching hour under a new moon in a room of stunned faces.

He was dying. The cord had somehow snaked around his throat, and the weight of the object to which it was attached—a flat panel television that had fallen forward off its berth—was too much for his fading strength. His fingernails raked at the skin on his neck as he futilely tried to loosen the wire’s iron grip on his airway, but it was a feeble attempt. The black spots in his vision were already coalescing into dark pools of nothingness, draining the color out of the world and the urgency out his struggles. He slumped back against the wall, numb now, his hands falling to the floor.

He vaguely noticed blood under his fingernails where he had torn his own skin, but this was no longer a concern for him. He felt heavy, tired, and watched disinterestedly as the darkness swirled over more and more of his vision. The fire in his lungs and throat had dulled into a low throb, and his mind, as it randomly fired its last few electrical impulses, focused on that. Succumbing to the encroaching weakness, he closed his eyes…

Darkness. Gradually he became aware of faint bars of light overspreading a surface on his right and that he was supine on his back. He was warm and comfortable, and although he could still feel

by Matt Dunham

the phantom grip of the wire around his neck, he was free from the asphyxiating, serpent-like constriction. The bars of light wavered; he blinked his eyes; he spasmodically pushed the bedspread from around his neck, erasing the last vestiges of that panicked feeling from his disoriented mind.

The bars twinkled again along the surface, and he realized with a dawning sense of euphoria—and foolishness—that it had only been a dream and that he was safe, alive, in his own bed. The parallel effusions were the muted orange glow of the streetlights coming through the partitions in his blinds, thrown against the far wall of his room.

He suddenly took a deep, shuddering breath, reflexively rubbing his throat once and then settling slowly back into the softness of his bed.

His eyes slipped closed as he tried to recall the panicked feeling of the dream, but even that was already fading. He knew that he had been choking, and that there had been a television involved, but the fragmented pieces no longer made any kind of coherent sense. The remnant of the dream that had stuck in his memory was the feeling of finality, the ultimate sense of peace he had experienced at the last moment before he had woken up. His thoughts scurried over that odd sensation—of panic giving way to an almost blasé acceptance—and he turned onto his side, pulling

the bedspread up once again and burrowing his head into the pillow.

Sleep, as quickly as it had passed from him, was already spreading its thick tendrils back into his consciousness. The sobering thought that stayed with him, under the rest of his consciousness that slowly was spiraling outward from its wakeful center toward its drifting sleep, was that he now knew what it felt like to die. The hysteria of imminent death had melted into an easy acceptance of the inevitable as soon as he had understood that it was indeed unavoidable, and the last few seconds of his life—in the dream—had consisted of something akin to a series of images flashing before his eyes. Unlike portrayals of a similar effect he had seen in movies or read in books, it was less like a concrete montage of particular instances and more like a holistic picture of the milieu of his life.

The feeling engendered by that ultimate sensation, of having finally understood what it meant to live, had subdued the panic and allowed him to experience that absolute instant with complete cognitive awareness, however blunted his physical senses might have been.

He tried to remember how it had happened— how the wire had come to be around his throat in the first place—but the dream was already

Excerpt from unfinished novella 11/26/99 Butler Library. Floor 6. Rare Books. The unlit stairs are ominous and quiet. It’s Black Friday. Not a soul. The door is always locked—partly because Satan himself keeps watch over the decaying papyrus and none dare disturb the beast, partly because Columbia prizes and fawns over the prosaic and poetic artifacts they themselves keep deep in their prestigious belly. It’s the fat that keeps it warm as the wind cuts down the avenues.

This place, the stinking prestigious gut of Harlem. Where not too long ago, some more excellent dudes than I started their kinetic odyssey to America. I haven’t got a clue what that odyssey is anymore. It just seems like different realms of Inferno.

Ugh. Whatever.

I slip in past the deadbolt, turn on my Maglite. # YZ 66675 reads the scrap in my hand. I snatch it, toss the original manuscript of Howl in the air and catch it with my teethand do the Macarena. I find a dark corner and get all the way to III. No work to do—everyone out shopping at FAO Schwartz, walking last Xmas’ Furby into the store with them. So I consume the liquor that is this beatific virgin

Early afternoon under a high, hot sun.

By Scott Patrick Kerrigan

verse. What’s darker, this room or the space under my eyelids? Or is it my mind, destroyed by madness, starving to consume, hysterically clothed in the flow of fashion?

Snooze.

Dream about the WTO. Nondescript anguished faces in business suits as well as anonymous black masks and broken glass litter the scene. There’s a ton of shouting… and did I hear shooting? I don’t know. I can’t quite make it out.

Beeeeep beep! My belt loop vibrates. Fuck. I hate these things. Everyone’s all “like you gotta get one, like so you can page me and stuff.” But then you have to find a fucking phone. And they’re already becoming obsolete! I scribble the number on that scrap. Slip out quietly onto the brick paved walkways. Fluorescent light makes this a post-colonial moonscape. The first suit I see (which is very few dudes in Harlem at this time of night) gives me a dollar when I ask for quarter. I need the phone, I tell him, pointing to that big glass box over there. He pulls this slick black phone out of his briefcase; I dial quickly and let the machine eclipse my face. Then he snatches the bill back.

Yo says the voice. What up me say. Gotta research paper

almost gone from his mind. He could feel the wall against his back as he had slumped against it, but he could no longer remember what the room looked like or if there were any people with him. He would have to remember to tell his friends about it the next day, but he might forget it entirely by then. Though it was traumatic and disturbing, he nonetheless could feel the cogency of the experience slipping through the porous surface of his mind. He was left with very little except the effulgence of that moment between dreaming and waking up; when he had been sure he was dead. And death, to him, was a curious thing, because in some ways going to sleep was almost like death. There was the voiding of all sensation; there was the numbness that inexorably and almost imperceptibly stole over all things physical and mental; and there was the floating from thought to thought and image to image… He thought heard the barking of a dog, or perhaps it was a car backfiring, or he thought it could have even been a gunshot… The feeling of the wire around his neck returned for an instant, thrusting him upward… He surged forward on the waves of some calm emerald sea stretching to a sapphire sky——

for you, fag. Excellent, you at your flat? Of course, dude.

Cool, can I use your PC then? Yup. Righteous. Click. I hand back the phone, say thank you and the suit walks on as if it never happened, with this smug Crest smile I just wanna smack off.

I run to the 1 and the 5 station. Whooshing down the stairs, leap the turnstile, shape-shift through the closing doors. No one on the train or in the station even notices this fit feat of exercise. They’re on their Gameboys or Discmans trying to shut out the ghost-man. I’ve just run out of batteries. ************************** IDEA: Vanquishing art project. Go to tourist sites and be that weird dude smoking a cig in the nice family picture.

Disrupting the Kodak moment. Being that long forgotten ancestor lurking in the distance at Ellis Isle. Be an amputated limb of their family limb, wreaking amnestic phantom pains upon their artifacts. I am the catastrophe that lurks across the memory of this decade. And there’s such exponential catastrophe that I think we might have filled the tragedy quota itself in this decade (perhaps the next Gregorian millennium, but what did the Pope know, huh?), and it’s all on videotape, in moving frames, with a few scattered bits of sex and lies. Red Blue Green. ubgeneration.com | 21

parting shots Neighborhood treasures

By Keeley Sheehan I remember when I was just knee high to a grasshopper, sitting crosslegged on an elementary school cafeteria floor, listening to another group of little chorus kids sing a cute little chorus kid song. “Don’t throw your junk in my backyard, my backyard’s full.” They sang with vigor, their tiny bowl cut and mop topped heads bobbing up and down, their Mary Jane’s and Velcro sneakers the only things anchoring their stubby feet to the ground as they screamed the words at us in that little kid chorus way.

I sat there; chin in hand, in my blue-rimmed glasses, hand-medown slacks and sweater, and tooshort-to-be-a-girl haircut, wishing I could be on stage belting out that super fun song with the chorus kids.

That song popped into my head during spring break while I was taking a walk. With no tropical destination to jet set myself off to, I settled on enjoying the moderately uncrappy Lockport, N.Y. weather. As I meandered down the block, hop-

ping over mud puddles and freshly melted slush, taking in the less than pristine sights of my neighbor’s yards, that cute little tune floated into my consciousness. “Don’t throw your junk in my backyard, my backyard’s full”—of pop cans, cigarette butts, straws, candy wrappers. It’s a well known secret that for all the environmental doom and gloom, there’s still always garbage all over the ground, but it’s not often you really stop and take inventory.

Since I wasn’t on a beach, using a drunken haze to ignore the outside world, or whatever it is one does on a traditional spring break, I decided to face littering head on—sort of.

For my little experiment—an observation, if you will—I walked around the block my house sits on, a nice little square totaling less than .3 of a mile. The short distance made what I saw, if not surprising—in this consumer-driven, throw-it-away culture we live in—then at least pretty disgusting.

I walked that little .3 of a mile, notebook in hand, making a list of all the crap on the ground. Here, for

your reading enjoyment, is a selection of that list: Four Tim Hortons lids, one Tim Hortons cup, various gum and candy wrappers—Starbursts strewn like bread crumbs, Mint Twists, Butterfingers, Reese’s, Jolly Ranchers, white chocolate M&M’s.

There were lots of drink containers. Plastic—plain and flavored water bottles, diet Pepsi, Little Hugs, grape Powerade, Mountain Dew, Minute Maid orange juice. Two glass strawberry Snapple bottles. And plenty of good old-fashioned aluminum—Blue Lite, Bud Lite, Bud Lite Lime, Pepsi One, diet Cherry Pepsi, Red Bull, Mug root beer, Arnold Palmer Half & Half.

Also: Ketchup packets, cardboard, paper, Styrofoam cups, cigar cases, plastic bags, the full anatomy of a cigarette scattered in pieces over and over, Slurpie straws, McDonald’s straws, regular straws, fruit snack wrappers, dental floss, a blue cookie tin, Smokin’ Joe’s Little Cigarettes (grape flavored), a brand new pencil, a Rice Krispie treat wrapper, and a $10,000 jackpot lottery tick-

et—not a winner, I take it.

For those of you strong-willed enough to get to the end of that monstrosity of a list, I offer you the coup de grace of crap: A pipe. Small, tarnished, chipped red and gold paint, a last little bit of weed stuffed in it—a thing of beauty, really.

Some of it bordered on poetic. A crushed Arizona Mucho Mango aluminum can sat in a small ditch of mud at the end of someone’s driveway. The vibrant, shiny orange of the can was striking against the dark brown ground. It would have been the perfect color for a newly sprouted sign of spring. Instead it’s just another reminder of everything humans keep screwing up. A construction paper creation sat dirtstained and forgotten at the end of another neighbor’s driveway. There were little pink, yellow and purple foam butterflies and hearts glued to a piece of black construction paper, little crayon pictures drawn around the edge—the perfect refrigerator art. Instead, it’s litter. What exactly are they teaching kids these days?

Some of it was just gross. There

was a dirty, mud-caked cloth that I think was white at some point plopped on a neighbor’s sidewalk. I don’t know what it was; I preferred not to get close enough to find out.

One in particular filled me with a sad sense of irony. A blue plastic bag lay face down in a puddle of mud, the name of the store not visible. After a little creative tipof-the-toe nudging, the front of the back was revealed. Underneath the Walmart logo was the friendly reminder, “Make a difference; recycle this bag.”

Does Jon Stewart Have A Life?

By Josh Q. Newman Watching my second-to-least favorite broadcast news host, Bill O’Reilly, is a bit more than unpleasant because, if anything, his terse interjections and incorrigible manner go against how I think a journalist should conduct himself.

Yet watching him interview my very least favorite, or I should say most loathed, “journalist” Jon Stewart last month reaffirmed my long-held belief that Stewart, in fact, has no life.

Jon Leibowitz (sorry, I mean Stewart—he changed his name in 2001; for all his talk about fakery, he doesn’t exactly have a good record) has fueled a general mistrust of government for years now. “The Daily Show’s” once jovial tone turned caustic during the Bush administration. Its many mishaps

22 | ubgeneration.com

and terrible lack of popularity gave rise to a show not found in the major news networks. Stewart, to his credit, marketed the show successfully as an alternative voice to the supposedly biased Fox News and the incompetence of everyone else. The other shows are boring; the news becomes the same. Watch The Stewart and you will be saved.

The problem is that “The Daily Show” is wretchedly biased, and that Stewart has abused his power.

He has turned his show into a left-wing soapbox that attacks Republicans with the casualness of adults handing out candy during Halloween. Every day, Stewart digs deep into the Republican agenda, ripping it apart without much regard for what the other side has to say.

As much as his liberal lessons bore me—and let’s face it, he is a liberal—I’m not here to defend the GOP. I’m here to attack Jon Stewart.

There’s something more troubling about him, and that is his lectures on the media and journalism.

For someone who continually denies taking himself seriously, he takes himself very seriously.

And as someone who might enter journalism one day, I find his finger waving about how people like Campbell Brown or Katie Couric— people with real jobs—should do their jobs aggravating. He rarely has anything nice to say, and jumps on every one of the media’s peccadilloes.

For example, Stewart was furious a few weeks ago with the media’s coverage of chatroulette.com, the Internet’s latest fad. (It’s still better than Twitter.) He viciously mocked CNN, Fox, NBC, and others for merely covering the Web site. Apparently, covering something new that has a few dicks in it is a bad thing. If that’s the case, then he should be upset by their coverage of President Obama’s staff. Or perhaps he should take a look at his own writers.

Of course, Stewart’s defenders will say that he is only kidding. As he said in O’Reilly’s interview about his image in the media and, I think, his material in general, “I don’t take any of that stuff seriously.”

Huh. That’s funny, considering in that brief half-hour interview he threw out pedantic phrases like “re-engage the regulatory mechanism” when describing Obama’s job performance and “cyclonic perpetual emotion machine” when describing Fox

News. These things sound less like harmless quotes and more like stuff found in the monologues of Glenn Beck, the very person he so virulently despises. Beck, by the way, isn’t any better, but at least he admits that he is just an opinionmaker, not a source of news.

If you feel that I’m overreacting, then perhaps you might want to take a look at his interview on the late CNN show “Crossfire” in 2004, where he virtually established himself as a defender of truth and dignity against the horrors of Tucker Carlson. Carlson, a respectable but not exactly likeable political commentator and journalist, questioned Stewart about his credibility. Like me, he raised the point that he is just a comedian, something Stewart himself always uses to dodge criticism. He told him that he has no legitimacy in criticizing the media because he is not a real journalist, and that it would behoove him to take a look at himself and calm down.

Stewart, with his uneasy grin, condescending body language, and only-bearable logic, didn’t quite make his case. He claimed that the hosts of the show were partisan hacks, and although the rhetoric of the show was incredibly hotheaded and somewhat made

his point, Stewart was only meekly convincing. He was like that kid in high school who would criticize how a club was run without actually doing anything. When Carlson called him out, Stewart ended the show by calling him a dick. Childish name-calling. Great.

And as a comedian, he is only mildly funny. He has his moments (aided of course by his 10 or so writers), but his tone is so serious and pointed that the humor rubs off the wrong way. In fact, there seems to be a smug humorlessness in his bits that ruin what could be comedic gold.

But then again, he claims he’s a satirist, not a comedian. Or wait, he’s a comedian, not a satirist. Or is he a satirist? Comedian? Satirist?

Journalist? I’ll tell you who he is.

He’s a clown. He’s a sanctimonious fool who consumes himself with tearing apart the media and the likes of Sarah Palin without once thinking about who he truly is or what he should be. This so-called “watchdog” of the media has for too long hypocritically criticizing the journalists that he wishes he is but is not. There’s no other way of putting it. Jon Stewart has no life.

He has simply got to go. …and don’t get me started on Stephen Colbert.

GENERATION February 9, 2010

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