“The difference between involvement and commitment is like ham and eggs. The chicken is involved; the pig is committed.”
to work their asses off; and I don’t want to do it anymore. I would rather give up my title as E.I.C. than keep living this life that is certainly leading me down the road to stardom. I now want to be the chicken, not the pig. And the best thing about being an adult, is that I can make that decision. So from now on Dino of the Week I’m gong to teach Dinosaurs 100 here at CSULB. My only regret is that I didn’t make this decision sooner.
Associate Editor Tosses Off into Towel
Managing Editor Doesn’t Do Job Toowel
Last year I was merely the Entertainment Editor, come this year I walk into the office of the Union and find myself with a new position. I didn’t ask for it, Ryan Kobane just gave it to me. I was bestowed the weight of Associate Editor upon my shoulders. Kobane made the mistake of confusing me for an adult, and like Tom Hanks at the end of Big, I’m unhappy with the responsibilities that come with such a position. That is why I, Mike Pallotta, am going back to being solely referred to by my nickname “Beef ” and am stepping down from position of Associate Editor and Entertainment Editor to the more languish positions of Comics Readitor and Pizza Eatitor. The freedom of these positions will let me further my hopes of living the life of a man-boy. Next year I’ll be gunning for Editor-In-Briefs.
This times last year, I didn’t think I will be writing my goodbye for the Union Weekly in November 2007. This is a lotly because this time last year I didn’t know how to read, let alone write. Actually, that’s pretty much still true this time this year. I’m dictating this resagnation letter to Ryan. I guess it all boils down to the Peter Principle (it’s French, you wouldn’t understand). The Union just kept promoting me despite my blatant incompetence as a writerer, readitor, talker, copy ediorer, jazz aficionado and most importantly, as a manajing editor. I’m not even really shure how to spell that word, let alone be that word. I’m pretty shure I think I’m an adult by now. I’ve had sex with twos of guys from this paper already, so I’m defanately cualified to make my own decishins. In my case that meaned taking a unpaid posishin as interigashins editor. My only regret is that I had to copee edit my own resignashin leter.
–Mike “Beef ” Pallotta/ Former Associate Editor & Entertainment Editor Comics Readitor and Pizza Eatitor
Tossing The Towel to The Other Hand When I first joined the Union Weekly it was like Candyland. There was booze everywhere and most of the staff were pretty decent H-jobbers, but ever since I became the Random Reviews Editor things have changed. I realized I don’t like my job, and like many people who think that anyone gives a shit, I have decided to step down from my position and quit the Union. Even if that means I might have to take on another position in the paper like Union Webmistress, or Baby Costume Editor, I will humble myself. The number of slices of pizza added to your pay check just isn’t worth working a job I’m not happy at. I know most of you don’t have a choice of your job as a barista or server, but sitting around all day in an air-conditioned office in front of an expensive computer a few hours a day is just like that. Quit.
–Michael Veremans/ Former Random Review Editor Union Webmistress
Dino 100 Prof.
–Erin Hickey/ Former Managing Editor Interigashins Editor
“This Towel No Longer Works, I’m Getting A Blowdryer.” This time last year, I didn’t think I was going to be stepping down from my very important position as editor. I was only a young staffer then, and the Union was all that I thought about. I would stay in the office until 3am sitting on the back couches listening to my fellow writers clamor. I was super excited. But the amazing thing about being an adult is that sometimes, you just have to make decisions. I was unpaid, I hated everyone around me but yet I stayed for a year because I was in dire need of building some character. But now I’m smarter, and I am quitting as the Opinions Editor and taking the position as The Decision Maker Editor. ‘Cause I make adult decisions and the Union Weekly is in need of some decision-making.
–Kathy Miranda/ Former Opinion Editor The Decision Maker Editor
“Having a Towel This Big Has Really Become a Serious Problem.”
“Who Gave Me This Towel? I’m Giving Myself a Promotion.”
As Sports Editor of the Union Weekly, I’m able to do the job that I love more than anything else in the world— and it’s really starting to suck ass. In my four months on the job, I’ve been thinking about stepping down from my position for about a year-and-a-half. Goddammit, do I ever hate having complete, uncensored access to any team, athlete or coach that I so choose. And it really wrinkles my brow that I’m getting all this real-world experience that will set me apart from my fellow peers. The university president, athletics director and media directors have some nerve being so hospitable and encouraging. For these reasons and millions of others, I am relieving myself from the post of Sports Editor and appointing myself Commissioner of the Pyramid. Or Pyramissioner. Phew, what a relief.
This time last year I was sleeping with the various boyfriends and girlfriends of the Union Weekly staff box on a regular basis. Things have changed since then. I am a year older. But one thing remains the same: If it weren’t for this publication, I would be forced to follow in my father’s footsteps and spend my life directing scat porn, and I’d really prefer to keep that as a casual hobby, thank you very much. So when I heard that my esteemed colleagues were conducting a mass demotion, I nearly scat myself. I’ll be damned if I let this paper slide into cheap satire. So in the midst of this debacle, I officially promote myself to Regional Editor of Thought and Campus Demigod. Worry not students, your favorite weekly newspaper will fare well in my giant, hairy palms.
–Ryan ZumMallen/ Former Sports Editor
Commissioner of the Pyramid/ Pyramissioner
am a pig! It’s not because of my roundish figure, or my pale, pink skin, or even the fact that somehow I always smell of bacon, it’s because I’m super committed. That is, until this week came rolling around. See, for the first time in seven years there wasn’t a Union on the stands on Monday morning. This really bummed me out. No one ever told me that running a college weekly newspaper would come with so many “things” to do, and so much “responsibility.” Well maybe someone did, but that’s beside the point. My point is that being an Editor-in-Chief isn’t nearly as fun and cool as I expected. I spend 80 hours a week in this office, getting paid less than a fourth of minimum wage, and I have to ask my friends that get paid nothing,
–Earl Grey/ Former Grunion Editor
Regional Editor of Thought/ Campus Demigod
Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
Ross Geller Dino 100 Professor Erin Hickey Interigashins Editor Beef Comics Readitor Matt Dupree Associate Editor Ryan Kobane Business Manager
email@example.com firstname.lastname@example.org email@example.com
Vincent Girimonte firstname.lastname@example.org News Director Kathy Miranda email@example.com The Decision Maker Editor Ryan ZumMallen firstname.lastname@example.org Commissioner of the Pyramid/ Pyramissioner Victor Camba email@example.com Comics Editor Katie Reinman firstname.lastname@example.org Creative Arts Editor Michaël Veremans email@example.com Webmistress Earl Grey firstname.lastname@example.org Regional Editor of Thought & Campus Demigod Erin Hickey Literature Editor & PR Beef Pizza Eatitor Sean Boulger Music Editor & PR Ryan Kobane Photography Director Steven Carey Feature Editor Erin Hickey Ryan ZumMallen Copy Editors Ryan Kobane Advertising Representative Steven Carey Graphic Design Chris Barrett Internet Caregiver
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firstname.lastname@example.org email@example.com firstname.lastname@example.org
Philip Vargas On-Campus Distribution Vincent Girimonte Off-Campus Distribution Darren Davis, Chris Barrett, Andrew Wilson, Jesse Blake, Derek Crossley, Christopher Troutman, Jason Oppliger, Cynthia Romanowski, James Kislingbury, Philip Vargas, Rachel Rufrano, Paul Hovland, Ryan Ortega, Katrina Sawhney, Allan Steiner, Sergio Ascencio, Russell Conroy.
Disclaimer and Publication Information
The Union Weekly is published using ad money and partial funding provided by the Associated Students, Inc. All Editorials are the opinions of the writer, and are not necessarily the opinions of the Union Weekly, the ASI, or of CSULB. All students are welcome and encouraged to be a part of the Union Weekly staff. All letters to the editor will be considered for publication. However, CSULB students will have precedence. All outside submissions are due by Thursday, 5 PM to be considered for publishing the following week and become property of the Union Weekly. Please include name, major, class standing, and phone number for all submissions. They are subject to editing and will not be returned. Letters will be edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, and length. The Union Weekly will publish anonymous letters, articles, editorials and illustrations, but they must have your name and information attached for our records. Letters to the editor should be no longer than 500 words. The Union Weekly assumes no responsibility, nor is it liable, for claims of its advertisers. Grievance procedures are available in the Associated Students business office.
Questions? Comments? 1212 Bellflower Blvd. Suite 256A Long Beach, CA 90815 Phone 562.985.4867 Fax 562.985.5684 E-mail email@example.com Web www.lbunion.com
12 November 2007
Young People Do It Better
Test Tube Salvation
By Katrina Sawhney
By Derek Crossley
have a theory about love and relationships. We, college-age adults, are far better at relationships than our supposedly more experienced and worldly teachers, our parents. What do they know about relationships? More than half of my fourth grade class had an early quarter life crisis when their parents split. That’s quite the example. Thanks guys. And we are supposed to take our cues from them because they have seen more. Well maybe seeing more has left them far too jaded to tackle something like love. It’s tough enough as it is, and there’s no need to make it any harder. As young adults, we’re in the business of people—getting to know them, learning how to deal with them, loving, hating, etc. We have no idea what we are doing. I’m happy to admit it, I have no clue what tomorrow holds, but I do know I’ll do my best to deal with it when it gets here. Our parents and predecessors do not seem to relate to this feeling of naivety. Maybe they’re beginning to lose it and the Alzheimer’s is setting in, it wasn’t all that long ago they were where we are now. Somehow because they’ve been around the block, they get it, all of it. In reality they overcomplicate it. Love can exist for an evening of infatuation, or a lifetime or something in between. A marriage’s longevity no way communicates its validity just as a relationship, no matter how short lived, can give way to new experiences. We don’t judge our encounters, mainly because we would feel judged, usually negatively and then ashamed. We don’t judge our experiences and because of that we learn more. We don’t cast the more unappealing
Illustration By Andrew Wilson
evenings of drunken mishaps in that light where we feel ashamed. We call it like it is and sometimes it’s just a good night with some shifty decisions. Not bad, not good, just new. Not so coincidentally, it is this quality of “carelessness” that is often criticized by our mentors. Let’s take the negative spin off of the terminology and see what we come up with: it’s this supposed “carelessness” that we learn to abandon with age that gives way to the carefulness that causes the over— complications that our parents’ generation seem to combat everyday. The over— complicating leads to the obsessive and harmful behavior that in essence leads to far less fulfilling and an over-idealized version of a relationship. It’s a vision where love resembles only marriage despite the confines and reality of the situation. Not all love is
marriage material, but as we grow older, it seems we become more rigid and anything worth having that comes our way, we try and make it fit into this static and inflexible frame of what things should look like. As disillusioned young adults (I know, not the usual spin, is it?), we see love and the in-betweens for what they are, enjoy them and take whatever good we can from it, and don’t worry too much about the future. That’s not to say that none of us give the future any thought or consideration, but that’s just it, it’s just thought and consideration, not absolutes and forced plans. Do it right while you’re young and don’t be crushed if things don’t work out like you planned. At some point they worked, so savor those moments. Live once, live it right, and figure it out as you go.
The Writing Process For Dummies that I wrote. And the fact that I was, and still am, surrounded by the talented writers of the Union Weekly (oh, you knew it was comin’) didn’t help that insecurity either. Everything I read by my fellow staffers was thoroughly impressive, and I felt that my writing just wasn’t up to par. I’ve come to the realization that being a great writer isn’t something that just comes to you, it’s something that you learn. While that may sound obvious to all the writers out there, it’s an understanding that some, including myself, take a while to recognize. Like every good short story, the process of creative writing has a beginning, middle and end, and through this course from the beginning to Illustration By Andrew Wilson the end there should lay As expected, I’m having trouble writing a significant change. We start the beginning of this article. In fact, there is always some sort of our writing careers with day-by-day journal struggle when I write any article, essay, short entries, book reports and paragraphs on what story, love letter, etc. I would spend hours on we did over the summer. After that, our writa story and end up scrapping the entire thing ing gets a little more sophisticated—love letbecause I felt like it wasn’t good enough. To put ters, fake sick notes, essays with thesis points. it simply, I was very insecure about anything And hopefully, in due time, those love letters
By Kathy Miranda Opinions Editor
12 November 2007
would turn into sonnets, those fake sick notes into relevant opinions, and those journal entries into memoirs. The process of writing is a process that is developed over time, not something that can be achieved straight away. It’s not easy to put your writing out there and feel confident that it will be accepted as a “good” piece of writing. I have to remind myself that no matter what, there will always be a better writer, a better story, and someone with more writing talent than I have. The key is experience. There are a number of things we as writers must take advantage of to further develop our skills as wordsmiths. First off, books. The more books we read, the more familiar we are with what good writing looks like. Second, having an opinion, a strong, valid (to you at least) opinion that will give your writing credibility and reason. Lastly, becoming a great writer takes a lot of practice. This means writing no matter how shitty it may sound, or how drunk you are when you’re writing it. We have to accept that all of our writing, even the drunken rants, reflects the growth of writing as a whole. More writing equals more experience and that’s ultimately what we are trying to attain. With that said, writing isn’t easy. In fact, putting words together in a coherent fashion and being interesting, clever and smart is one of the most difficult things I have ever tried to accomplish. Whatever the case, every piece of writing deserves credit for its existence. And if someone is telling you your writing sucks, they’re either just being assholes, or trying to help you write better. We hope for the latter.
Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
They sit on wooden benches, listening to prayers in a foreign language. They believe in the power of god. They believe in the honesty of the bible. They believe in miracles and saints. They are cannibals. At the last supper, Jesus, supposedly, gave out bread and wine and claimed it to be his body and blood. This process is repeated today, and usually referred to as Holy Communion, the Sacrament, or the Eucharist. Many Christians, because of this, believe in transubstantiation. “Transubstantiation is the official … concept referring to the change that takes place during the sacrament of Holy Communion (Eucharist). This change involves the substances of bread and wine being turned miraculously into the substance of Christ himself. The underlying essence of these elements is changed, and they retain only the appearance, taste, and texture of bread and wine... Doctrine holds that the Godhead is indivisible, so every particle or drop thus changed is wholly identical in substance with the divinity, body, and blood of the Savior.” Which, if you think about it, is pretty exciting. If they are right we have genetic proof of god, or so they claim. And while I’m not a scientist, I do understand the basics of biology and genetics. For example I know that whatever we put into our body comes out again. So if millions, if not billions, of people are eating Christ everyday, or at least on Sundays, there has to be a lot of him left behind. There must be little chunks of semi-digested, holy flesh and blood in every sewer system around the world. Do I have a problem with the idea of people eating their god? Not even a little. I think they, the believers, finally have a chance. They can finally try to prove that they’ve been right all along. If they are correct and the bread and wine really does transubstantiate into flesh and blood then they have a very interesting experiment to do. Someone, hopefully a very holy man, must dig through their waste and ship it off to a genetic testing center. I’ve seen enough cop shows to know that if you eat something, or especially someone, there DNA shows up when it comes back out. So, hypothetically, they could sequence the whole genetic makeup of god. We could resurrect his double-helix. Then the masses could decide when to bring about the second coming. It would even fit into the stories that we’ve been told. It would be an “immaculate” birth. He would be regaled as a king. Except, this time, thanks to mass media, we won’t have to take the word of a dozen men. We won’t have to sift through the past for the truth. We would get to experience it. So, I’m taking off my glove and slapping them in the face. A challenge. A call to action, that if you believe it than prove it. If a piece of flour, yeast and water can be turned into flesh, then we should easily be able to turn that flesh into a man. Questions? Comments? Derek Crossley can be reached at: derek@ lbunion.com Or comment online at www.lbunion.com
By Vincent Girimonte Milk and Bourbon
Sex is better in person, Darren. Buck up: a bare-breasted woman is nothing to cower from. You don’t need video iChat to see her privates, nor does she need it to see you crying in the corner. Call me crazy, but when I look at somebody’s face, I would also like to see what his or her hands are doing. This especially pertinent with Darren, as he is prone to the spontaneous cucumber rub. It’s just what he does. I’m not saying everyone should disown the web cam. In fact, if you’re an avid user, feel free to continue doing so. You’re probably better suited for conversation a la digitales anyhow, and I would hate to encounter you in any sort of social mishap. Virtual this, virtual that. It’s all spiraling out of control like the curls in Darren’s grease mop. What we need is a regression of some large degree, where we all just walk around with chalkboards and scribble our feelings. We’d be happier. I received a video chat invitation just the other night at 11:45 pm. I was doing what I always do before I sleep…reading, naked. I’m not sure what this person was thinking; sure, look at me while I lay in my bed, exposed in the privacy of my own home. I can’t think of a better way to spend my time alone. Idiot. I declined, but there was a part of me that wanted this person to see what I was reading and in which position I chose to read. It would be the last video chat they ever initiated. A confession: I have the zeal of a convert on this one. I used to video chat frequently, only after carefully grooming my hair and obsessively washing my face. Some called it instant messaging, sure—I called it dating. By no means my proudest moment—but I can say with confidence my game was razor sharp in the online and non-personal format. It was too easy, and plus I could eBay while simultaneously listening to her talking about family, or whatever. If there is one saving grace for video chatting, it’s easily the ability to break up with your significant other, in person, via your computer. Tears are only tears if they are wet, and on a computer screen, they are certainly not wet. Do not be fooled into thinking this is somehow the dishonest or cowardly way of cutting ties. It’s the easiest, and therefore the best option.
By Darren Davis Gin and Cooking Sherry
Oh, how consuming and wonderfully inappropriate my love affair with technology has become over the years. For what other co-dependant relationship is so mutually beneficial? Surely not yours and mine, Vince. After your latest male-male-male threesome proposition, handled not so appropriately over our semesterly dinner with President F. King, I have the sinking suspicion you are beginning to like me less for the cut of our mutual jib and semi-redundant sports talk and more for my body. I don’t know what hypothesis your therapist is pitching to you as explanation for your ever-increasing loneliness, but while this column may masturbate our egos, it is not bringing us closer in that way and it will never lead to masturbation of another kind. Perv. So yes, video iChat: Absolutely wonderful, mainly because it is just another chunk out of the wall between myself and the people I see less and less in real life−those outside of the Union office, basically−and is one step closer to the ultimate goal: Flying cars and teleportation, although the latter would probably cancel out the former. In this day and age, true distance means nothing. When our technology allows us the opportunity to shrink the gap even further between the people we choose to communicate with and invite one another into our respective homes (with discretion, of course), than why not take advantage of it? Why hide behind the wall of screens and wires? I can only speak for Vince, who does not like video chat because it allows the people he chats with to see what he really looks like. He resembles more and more the children from Village of the Damned every day, and to be honest I would probably Photoshop my Facebook pictures to near wax-like features too if I were cursed with such a blanched pigment. For those not cripplingly self-conscious and with no interest in convincing underage girls to role-play, iChat is a sensible convenience, not just for busy college students and the like, but for business scenarios and poor grandmothers who are too afraid of the outside world to visit with their grandkids. I know it is a lot to ask, Vince, but I am going to insist that you relinquish your internetlingo and cute little emoticons and join the rest of us in the modern age. That camera on your iBook can be used for more than taking sepia pictures of yourself on Photobooth. And, for the record, I will never respond to “Yo D. u can buy me beer, plz? Thx ;).” Never.
Who Reigned Supreme? Last week’s winner on “Kobe Bryant”: Vince Girimonte, Not a Fan
Microracism and the Ignorance Status Quo By Michaël Veremans Opinions Editor So the other day I got in a car accident—everyone was okay and my car wasn’t damaged. Being slightly less than insured, I had to call my dad to stand in for me and fill out the police paper work and handle the insurance matters. We were both standing on the sidewalk among other accident victims and a few witnesses and people who happened to walk by. Among this group were two people who came to the scene after accident, standing on either side of my dad. First they began to talk about how thankful they were for the emergency services. “I’m glad we have this kind of quick response,” one said, looking to my father for conformation, “But the immigrants coming in are draining our tax money, they might have to cut some services.” My dad—a Belgian
immigrant—without a word, turned around and walked away from the obviously ignorant pair. And white people get away with this everyday. I call it microracism and it infects all of those cliques that seem to avoid diversity, it comes from the people who think they found a way to validate their backwards and ill-conceived beliefs. These two men continued to talk about how we shouldn’t be offering social services, clearly coming from a strong neo-conservative background. I decided to but in a little but after a little bit of argument one of these assholes decided to inform me that “… the white race is dying out,” to which I replied, “I don’t believe in the white race.” And that’s not the first time I’ve heard that “fact.” It doesn’t stop there; this partially cloaked brand of bigotry only becomes harder to recognize. Scapegoating groups based on perceived race is a common theme that creepy Republicans only sometimes drop on an unwitting,
critically-thinking me. I have been told that the cause of traffic in LA is the number of immigrants (who seem to carpool and use public transportation more than “legal” citizens), even that thirsty immigrants have caused the drought! Ha! As though our farms and factories weren’t using the majority of our invaluable liquid resource. Terminology plays a big roll in this deeply held but innocently presented racism. Referring to a stingy person as a Jew or the private use of the N-word propagate certain attitudes that our modern nation could do without. Saying, “He just acts black,” doesn’t help anyone. Stay vigilant when someone tries to drop a bit of veiled racism and don’t be afraid to call someone out on his or her ignorant bullshit. There is no excuse to make these kinds of racial distinctions—perceiving the world in black and white feeds the problem and takes us farther away from acceptance and understanding.
Business Majors Need to Learn The Basics By Ryan Ortega Contributor Here at CSULB the business program is the largest major on campus in terms of enrollment. It has received a number of awards including AASB accreditation. There is no doubt our business program is one of the best in the nation. However, every year students graduate without mastering some of the most basic business skills. When you graduate, you will be representing everyone here at The Beach. Get motivated to read, understand, and implement these tips so you don’t embarrass us. Understand the Federal Reserve and get to know the name Ben Bernanke. Every year, hundreds of people pass an economics class without knowing who he is. As a businessperson, you should know where the Federal Funds Rate is at and where it might be headed next. Read the Wall Street Journal at least once. Even if you don’t decide to subscribe at a discounted student rate, it is important to pick it up occasionally. Get to know the different sections and format of the paper. Reading online news is a good start, but you shouldn’t get a business degree without reading the Journal at least once. Become familiar with the Roth IRA account. Let
compounding interest and tax advantaged savings work for you. If you have a job then you can contribute to this account. The earlier you start saving for retirement, the better off you will be. If you are a business finance major then it is even more important. How do you expect to advise clients on money if you don’t have a plan in place for yourself? Learn about the Efficient Market Theory. Educate yourself about why market timing and stock selection are sure ways to loose in the long-run. Instead, stick with exchange-traded funds for low turnover rates, low expense ratios, and passive management. Becoming a CFA may be one of your goals, but you should read A Random Walk Down Wall Street first. That way, you will know what you are up against when you are hired to that actively managed mutual fund with a large load and high expense ratio. Know the difference between the NYSE and the NASDAQ. They are similar, but are very different when it comes down the details of operation. While you’re at it, learn the acronyms too. If you are a business student and you don’t know the difference, consider a new major. Know the difference between the S&P 500 and Dow Jones Industrial Average. These are the most commonly quoted barometers of the U.S. economy. Also, learn about
each square of the Morningstar Style Box including the Russell, Wilshire, and other Standard and Poor’s averages. Learn the basic present value and future value calculations on your financial calculator. Whether you use a Hewlett Packard or Texas Instruments, you never know when you might need to do a quick calculation. Besides, that calculator could make you rich if you know how to use it properly. Know your credit score and use your credit responsibly. Building credit with a couple of cards is crucial now for getting a good rate on home or car loan later. Get one Visa and one Master Card to start with. You can get one free report per year at annualcreditreport.com and you can check your scores for a fee at myfico.com. If you are over 720 then you are doing well. Overall, going out of your way to read a few books on finance or doing some extra research on your own will serve you well. Going to class will give you a solid foundation on business, but it won’t teach you about important developments in finance such as the Blackstone Group IPO or the Long Term Capital Management disaster. You may not become the next Buffett or Markowitz, but as Stanley and Danko might suggest, you may have a chance at becoming the millionaire next door.
Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
12 November 2007
Jena’s Implications Reach Beyond South By Vincent Girimonte
he Jena 6 story began in Jena, Alabama: a small town roughly 2,100 miles from Long Beach and for all intents and purposes, in a place as foreign to the average CSULB student as, say, Mars. Regardless of our geographical divide, there are things that connect all Americans—a giant, colorful flag, gasoline, hot dogs, and, as in Jena 6, the always relevant beast that is racism. “I don’t find much in the U.S. that doesn’t center around race,” said Dr. Michael E. Conner, a professor of clinical psychology here at CSULB, to a near full venue of students, faculty and community members. He was joined on the panel by Dr. James Sauceda, director of the Multicultural Center at Cal State Long Beach, and Dr. Amy Rasmussen, a professor for racial and ethnic politics. The discussion, titled “The Implications of Jena 6,” was sponsored by ASI in their evercontinuing role of promoting diversity and conversation amongst CSULB’s diverse crosssection of students. Jena 6 refers to the six black students who assaulted a white student in response to nooses being hung from a tree on the Jena High School campus. The students were subsequently charged with attempted murder, a charge that many felt excessive and indicative of the “two legal systems” the US has harbored since the end of slavery. It was clear the panelists had been versed on the issues at hand; each bringing differ-
12 November 2007
ent perspectives that frequently crossed bumpy paths and made visible the very differences people have come to know in Long Beach. Commentary between Suaceda and Conner was especially intriguing. At one point, Conner was forced to “respectfully disagree” with Sauceda Rasmussen (left), Sauceda and Conner agree: CSULB has work to do. on his broader, more Photo By Jason Bonzon encompassing stance that this is not a “black with personal stories of oppression that othand white” issue. ers seemed to rally behind. “One of our challenges is seeing things Many of these anecdotes were horrific if away from black and white,” said Sauceda, al- not entirely surprising. Easily trumping all in luding to America’s history of alienating those sincerity, however, were several students’ allewho are different, no matter the race or color gations that CSULB practices racist tendencies of their skin. True, of course, but not exactly on both a curricular and administrative level. the argument Conner felt entirely pertinent to Students discussed an uncomfortable the African-American’s place in our society. classroom in which they were the only Afri“I’m not willing to whitewash it,” said can-American student. This, according to the Conner. “I do see a black and white issue.” As panelists, speaks to the lack of educational ima black man himself, he mentioned that his migration we’ve failed to address, most evident PhD has not stopped police from pulling him in upper-division classes. The mere fact that over for driving while black and accusing him several students expressed this discomfort of stealing his car. strikes deep as an ominous sign that we haven’t The floor was opened up for student dia- moved into true harmony in the classroom. logue with the panelists after nearly an hour Questions? Comments? of discussion. A line of people cut through Any questions can be directed to firstname.lastname@example.org Or comment online at www.lbunion.com the aisles; concerned and animated, many
Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
NEWS You Don’t Know
But Should By Chris Barrett Geogria Governor Raindances Around Responsibilty
Back in 2004, openly-gay Georgia Democratic Representative Karla Drenner was pushing a bevy of water-conserving legislation to help protect against the extreme dry spells Georgia had been experiencing at an elevated frequency. Unfortunately, her proposal was drowned out by her Republican opponents who made sure that banning gay marriage alone got public attention that year. Now Georgia is experiencing one of the worst droughts it has ever seen, with both lakes it uses as back-up water almost drained and no rain in sight. Rather than trying to enact the previously overlooked legislation or subsidizing a new water desalination plant, Georgia governor Sonny Perdue is organizing a prayer rally to pray to God for water and is suggesting that Georgia’s citizens join the rally. Citizens across the state are now calling for real leadership and many have vowed to protest the prayer rally. Many businesses have taken it upon themselves to sell bottled water at no profit just to entice people to drink less tap water. Some gardeners have aslo simply not planted new plants this year in order to conserve water. What I don’t get is why don’t the restaurants just pray for profits, the gardeners pray for plants, and the politicians pray for votes.
Team O’ The Week
49er Women’s Volleyball, currently riding a sevenmatch winning streak in which they’ve won 21 of 22 games. Alexis Crimes Alexis Crimes Alexis Crimes Alexis Cr...
49ers Out-Everything’ed In Home Opener BYU scores more in first half (36) than Long Beach does in entire game (34). Ugh. Patience, guys... patience. By Ryan ZumMallen
aybe we were just a little bit spoiled by the success of last year’s basketball team. No, scratch that—we were definitely spoiled, and to an extent, it’s left us
jaded. Is it “jaded” to expect the same 80 points per game, 24-win season that we enjoyed last year? Yes. But is it “jaded” to expect success, in general? Not at all. So we, as a student body, certainly had reason to feel cheated during BYU’s 74-34 thumping of our beloved 49ers. Thirtyfour points is a low total for a high school frosh squad, for Chrissakes. It wasn’t even so much that we surrendered a 40-point ass-whooping. It was the complete lack of cohesion, tempo and aggression that we have made our trademark over the past few seasons. A lot of numbers stand out—not the least of which is the score itself. Long Beach State made three baskets in the first half, shot 2-22 from behind the three-point line and made 19% of their shots. Six assists on thirteen total buckets. Outrebounded by 15. But if you were in the Student Section of the stands— draped in a yellow-and-black tie-dyed shirt slightly less ugly than the actual game—you knew nothing of those hellish statistics. All you knew was the embarrassment of being blown out in your own house. Even if you came in with expectations drastically lower than those from last year, getting doubled-up was just not in the realm of possibilities. It was slightly more possible than Andrew Fleming leading the team in scoring. If a few months ago, you’d have told me that the Fleming-O would be the only player in double figures (11 points) in the basketball team’s opening home game, I would’ve tried out for the team. I doubt if last year’s team failed to score 34 points in any one half—and though it’s my job to know that the overwhelm-
Big West Heartbreak By Sergio Ascencio Chedder Profedder I don’t know who will be happier to see me walk in the Spring: my mom or the women’s soccer team. Especially after they read this: every soccer game I attended, they lost. True, it was only a handful of games. But maybe I should have just kept walking by their field, not even acknowledging the game. Lucky for them, I sometimes would rather soak up enough energy to watch NFL games on Sundays than travel five minutes to George Allen Field. Just throwing this out there: they were 5-0 on home Sunday matches. You’re welcome. But I can’t take all the blame. Zoomy assigned me to cover the soccer stories, and we have an entertaining squad with a very versatile style of play. They could slow the game down and sift through defenses with passes, or keep it up-tempo and beat you with lethal crosses along the wings. Either way, anyone who attended a home match, win or loss, was entertained. Unfortunately for the squad, their most important, most impressive performance still resulted in defeat. A 2-1 loss to Cal Poly in the semifinals of the Big West tournament could have ended the 49ers season, pending a atlarge bid for the NCAA Championships. Three years in a row now the 49ers have been ousted in the semis of the BW tourney. For the second time in a row, Long Beach entered the tourney as regular season champs, this year sharing the title with Cal State Fullerton. “We took major steps (this year),” said junior defender Sara Baca. “Everything uphill. I think as a whole we got closer and we used our tough losses at the beginning of the season to build on. As the season went on, we just never looked back.” The 49ers couldn’t have gotten any closer to the BW title
ing firepower of last year’s team is long gone, it definitely came as a shock to many of the other students that came out in force. Any sign of life would have been appreciated, and the student section held out hope deep into the ugliness. We waited for a sign, some promise, any excuse—besides free t-shirts—to erupt. It never came, and spirits finally deflated around 3:50 left in the first half, with the Beach trailing 32-7—this after BYU jumped out to a 10-0 lead to start the game. The sheer scope of our inadequacy is easy enough to figure out just by reading a box score. The things not on a stat sheet are our utter confusion on offense, inability to contest jump shots, and lack of a go-to scorer when buckets are needed. Everyone in the building fully expected that the scorer would be Donovan Morris, but the two-guard went 1-15 from the field and had as many blocks (two) as points. D-Mo faded away on nearly every shot—a great number of which were make-able 15-footers—and almost always came up short, a sure sign that his legs just didn’t show up on Saturday. Chalk that up to nervousness, I hope. That will change, if there is any positive thing to take away from a 6.7% shooting night. This is obviously a team that is going to need time. The box score—which makes me want to stab myself—does not even begin to tell the story. It was the grand opening and introduction for head coach Dan Monson, an occasion marked by an all-out Public Relations effort to create atmosphere at the game with a huge pre-game tailgate party. The party was sadly cut short by a 12-point first half. “We’ve got to stop measuring our success by what’s on the scoreboard,” Monson said after the game. And while it’s easy to make the “maybe they should start measuring themselves that way” joke—trust me, we did it right away, you’re way late Buh—the man definitely makes a point. This was just one game. A grueling, disgusting game—but still just one game in a marathon five-month season. Let’s get over it. We’ve got a very, ve-he-he-hery young team and a coach who knows what he’s doing. So straight-up dickhead comments like the one made to Monson by Long Beach Press Telegram columnist Doug Krikorian during the coach’s press conference—“I thought [not having names on the backs of the jerseys] was your own Machiavellian way of sparing the kids any embarrassment”—are not needed. Get the hell out of the ‘Myd if you’re that snide, and think it’s easy to take over a program that features no players game. They saw shots fly wide, get blocked and airmailed a few, out-shooting the Mustangs 21-3 and still losing. “It’s very frustrating,” Baca said. “It’s the third time I’ve been here. Every year, we get closer and closer. I don’t know what it is about this game.” Trailing 2-0, freshman Lindsay Bullock’s goal with seven minutes left gave the ‘Niners one last glimpse of hope. Still down one, the final minutes were intense. It could have been the cold air—but I got chills, thinking about the LB equalizer. It would never come, and Poly escaped with a 2-1 victory. Coach Mauricio Ingrassia and his squad must now wait to see if they are chosen to the 64-team field NCAA tournament (selections were made Monday—so check longbeachstate. com to see if they made the tourney). Ingrassia was almost at a loss for words after the game— knowing his team should have come out victorious. “Soccer is a funny game sometimes,” he said. “You can be the better team, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t put the ball in the back of the net.” Ingrassia paused between questions—gazing deep into the chilly night, muttering “wow” to himself, in obvious disbelief. But he remains optimistic that they could still make NCAA playoffs. Either way, the future is set for LB soccer. So rather than recap what has already happened, we look into the future. And if the soccer team makes the playoffs—I will definitely not be there. Nearly the entire squad will be back next season—minus two seniors, Amanda Perry and Katelyn Quaresma. This includes a battle-tested junior class that will headline the team as seniors. Baca will anchor the defense again and make life a little easier for arguably the best goalie in LB State history, Liz Ramos. Forward Kim Silos, who should be named the conference’s MVP this year, led the Big West with 23 points, finished second in goals (7) and assists (9). She’s the soccer version of Steve Nash. Midfielder Mariko Strickland has marathon-like energy, along with don’t quit desire. Sahar Haghdan could
with D-1 experience and just graduated eight seniors. Give ‘em time. It’s a long season, and I guarantee the team that we put out there in January is not going to be the one that opened the season with a 34-point outburst that made babies cry.
The common thing about all these photos: NOT ONE OF THESE SHOTS WERE MADE! Oh yeah, and no-look passes when you’re down by 40... great idea.
Photo by Russell Conroy Just one of the games the writer attended that the 49ers lost.
have made her own And-1 soccer video this year, making opponents look very, very silly. Hayley Bolt was the enforcer in the middle, jostling for everything in the air and opening it up for the rest of her squad. The offseason will also allow the freshmen to grow into super-sophomores. Kristen Kiefer finished third in the conference with 17 points (6 goals, 5 assist). The Shevlin Twins will own the defensive flanks. Lindsey Bullock has no mercy on the field. I’ll be crossing my fingers that I get my diploma, and so should you. Don’t do it for me—do it for Long Beach State women’s soccer. But truth is, they probably wont need it.
Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
12 November 2007
Two Brothers. One Movie. A Review of No Country For Old Men By James Kislingbury
he first thing I heard when the credits rolled last Saturday were the two people behind me saying, “God that was so boring.” Who are these people and why are they at LACMA? Maybe they were expecting more car chases and slow-mo shots, or maybe they were expecting something a little more whimsical out of the Coen brothers. Whatever it is that got them to think No Country For Old Men is a bad movie was, more than likely, a terrible thought to begin with. Or they could just be idiots. I don’t know what their deal was and I’d rather not ever know, what I do know is that No Country For Old Men is an amazing film. No Country For Old Men was based off a Cormac McCarthy (The Road, All the Pretty Horses) novel and the premise is as simple as anything written in the Bible. The main plot of the movie takes off after Llewellyn Moss (Josh Brolin), a redneck antelope hunter, comes across a pile of bodies in the middle of the desert. He goes in search of the shootout’s ultimo hombre, only to find that he is dead too, and on his person is two million dollars in cold hard cash. Soon after, the gears of fate start clicking away as a Mexican drug cartel begins to hunt down the good old boy and his cash. More frightening than the nameless coyotes is the sociopath and professional ruinerof-lives Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem). From there the bodies start piling up and Sheriff Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) is brought into the case to try to protect Llewellyn, who has no idea what kind of trouble he’s in, and to stop Chigurh before he depopulates the entire American Southwest with his now infamous compressedair gun (aka the gun used to kill cattle in slaughterhouses). The chase for the money becomes more and more intense, until the noose is tightened one last time and, once again, there is only the ultimo hombre and the two million dollars. The Spanish actor Javier Bardem manages to overcome one of the silliest haircuts in cinema history to craft one of the most compelling roles in a long while. The killer Chigurh is on par with any of cinema’s classic villains like Hannibal Lector or Darth Vader (in other words, he
makes a great Halloween costume). What’s even more amazing is that he is only one of several actors in the movie that could be contenders for Best Actor. Tommy Lee Jones is in peak form, as is Josh Brolin (son of James Brolin), who seems to come out of nowhere to deliver a performance that is as frustratingly arrogant as it is sympathetic. If one of these three actors doesn’t walk away with a statue of some kind, they might as well call award season off permanently. Much like Fargo, the tone of the film is darkly humorous, I actually laughed over several pieces of dialogue during the course of the film. With less competent actors or director, some of these scenes would have lost their tension and become absurd. In this movie, though, the precious balance is maintained. The humor accentuates the tension instead of dispelling it, because as a wise man once said, sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. Don’t think that this movie is just a depressing arthouse mope-fest, though. It’s a compelling thriller and has more than its fair share of gun play and manic chases. No Country For Old Men is to the crime thriller what The Godfather is to mafia movies. They’re both steeped in genre contrivances, but they each manage to deliver a top notch story with a straight face and a semblance of class. Much like the killer Chigurh, it seems to be very simple to understand, but behind his eyes is something far more meaningful. No Country For Old Men is a movie about taking the long way around and what can go wrong when we try to take the shortcuts. That is why some might think it’s too slow or it’s too depressing. Car chases and quick cuts are easy; making death matter and meditating deeply on right and wrong isn’t. That’s why it will stick with you for a long time after you walk out of the theater. You’ll remember every flourish of violence and every brutal execution, because everything in this movie was crafted with an idea in mind. Sometimes an intelligent movie can be boring or completely entertaining, but when it’s done right you get Illustration by James Kislingbury No Country For Old Men.
You Mean You Haven’t Seen... Yojimbo
The point of this column is to highlight some interesting foreign, forgotten and/or cult films and why they’re cinematically important. A great story is a great story, even if it’s in German, black and white, or doesn’t have any bullet-time in it. These are movies you need to see if it’s a slow Friday night and you’re looking to be entertained or you’re a budding film snob (like myself) and you’re in need of names to drop. So without further ado... A world without Akira Kurosawa films is a world not worth living in. It’s safe to say that without his influence on cinema, the art form would have been a much different (and much more boring) thing. Yojimbo isn’t his best film (that honor belongs to The Seven Samurai, which is not only his best film, but the best film ever made), but, pure and simple, it’s Kurosawa at his most entertaining. Yojimbo has an interesting position in film history. It was adapted from a Dashiell Hammet (The Thin Man, The Maltese Falcon) novel about a nameless private eye that forces a city’s two rival gangs against each other, resulting in their mutual destruction. Years later Yojimbo was “remade” as Sergio Leone’s A Fistful of Dollars (Kurosawa later sued Leone for plagiarism and won). Since then the movie has been countlessly referenced and parodied. This is because, like most of Kurosawa’s movies, Yojimbo is both entertaining and endlessly deep. The movie follows the plot of the original novel, with a wandering samurai in place of the private detective and gangsters in place of...um, other gangsters. With one exception, all of the guns are replaced with swords. The tone was also changed to resemble a dark comedy instead of a film noir. Kurosawa’s intent with Yojimbo was to make a better Western than even the West could. It’s safe to say that he succeeds in this attempt, and that this juxtaposition of samurai versus gangsters and East meets West and tradition meets modernity is the soul of the film. Toshiro Mifune, the star of the film, is one of Akira Kurosawa’s regular cast members and it is very clear why that is: the man is charismatic. Mifune plays Sanjuro a wandering ronin (a masterless samurai) with no morality or loyalty (which may or may not be just an act). Sanjuro is one of the elite members of the Japanese warrior class but he resembles Han Solo more than he does Hattori Hanzo. He’s a badass and he knows it. And everyone else knows it. It’s been a good forty years since the movie came out, and he’s still one of the coolest characters ever put to film. Yojimbo is an absolute thrill from start to finish. More than that, though, it’s also a movie that has a lot to say about humanity. Everyone with even a passing interest in movies should verse themselves with the work of Akira Kurosawa, one of cinema’s great directors, and Yojimbo is a great place to start. –By James Kislingbury
Next time on ”You Mean You Haven’t Seen...”: Way of the Gun!
12 November 2007
Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
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Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
12 November 2007
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Myriad of Parking Spot s
It’s Monday morning and you ’re late. You have class at 10 and you’re rushing. You get to cam fact that we have shitty ass par pus and you’re dreading the king. Don’t worry, there’s hop e. If you ever find yourself in dire over to the parking structure need of a parking spot, drive on by Palo Verde. Race to the top and you will find a myriad of For those of you who wind up empty parking spots 98% of the being that 2%, well, you’re pro time. bably better off not going to clas s.
Nug lot a fter 6
The closest p arking lot to not allowed to everything is the lot by Th p ar k there. Or ar is open to all e Nugget. Un e we? If you after 6 pm. N There are fortunately, w have a class at o more long The Rapist. So e’re a lot of r 7, you’re in lu walks to the b unds great to easons to you can e ck. The Nug oonies equal me. ven use it get involv Lot s fewer chance positions as an exc ed in the s to encounte use to sk is r ip class. Th political process also get in easier than you here on c think, an e best rea vited to p a d m s a le o p ll n, howev nty of ev u chosen to er, is all th s. You can help ents (tran you need is abou skip this your t a thous slation: fr e fr part). ee shit th a nd people ee food) at comes fellow students, y and all y to ou can vote y with th ou have to do is o ou in. At that poin e position. Apply affect positive c hange, ccasiona t, ing for on y ou no lly make decisions longer have to wo e of the executiv e rry abou about stu t tuition. ff (some You past ASI presiden ts have
12 November 2007
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No Country for Old Men
Mister B. Gone
Vintage 309 Pages $14.00
Harper Collins 256 Pages $24.95
By Clive Barker
By Cormac McCarthy
Reviewed by Philip Vargas
Reviewed by James Kislingbury
ormac McCarthy, the author of the classic, Blood Meridian, and Oprah’s recent favorite, The Road, has made a career of writing books filled with catastrophic violence and unyielding pessimism. No Country For Old Men fits in with those themes nicely—almost to a fault. No Country For Old Men is a book that is really only about depressing things and killing sprees and lacks some of the philosophy that make his other books so great. It isn’t Cormac McCarthy’s best book, but with that said, it’s still better than ninety percent of everything else on the market. Having seen the trailers for the movie, you may think that the conflict within the book is about a man finding someone else’s money in the desert, but you’d be wrong. The money is just the MacGuffin that drives the plot. It is the catalyst that starts out this gruesome tragedy in the American southwest. The book starts out with a rather interesting first person narrative of Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, who speaks about how things used to be in his Texas county. Ed Tom acts as the book’s moral compass, even though
he never directly weighs in on the events in between chapters. While the Sheriff is obviously a flawed person with his own hang-ups and biases, the account of his law enforcement career is a fascinating one. Outside of the Sheriff, the first main character we are introduced to is the hulking killer, Anton Chigurh, who is getting arrested (we find out why he was taken into custody later on). Shortly after we are introduced to Chigurh and his partner in crime, the “cattlegun,” he nearly takes the head off of the man who arrested him. This sets up the theme and the pace of the novel from there on out. The conflicts only become more bloody and more intimate as time goes on, and as numerous as the slayings get, they only become more significant. I heard a quote from Mr. Rogers once where he said, “There’s more drama between two men talking about their feelings than there is in gunfire.” McCarthy must have heard this quote as well, except that he deigned to include plenty of both just to be on the safe side. As stated before, No Country For Old Men isn’t McCarthy’s best book, but it is one
of his easiest to read. It moves along at a clipped pace and only lingers on some moments to indulge in long streams of dialogue that reveal that each of the book’s characters is more than just a ruthless murder-machine or a good-old-boy sheriff that is a month away from retirement. The verbal jousting between every character is top notch; it’s worth picking up the book for that alone. No Country For Old Men is definitely worth picking up if you’re in the mood for a top-notch crime thriller, but fans of McCarthy’s other works might find it a bit lacking in the depth department. Though McCarthy fans might be better prepared for the unpleasantly appropriate ending. Casual readers will find plenty to like in this book, though it’s encouraging for aspiring writers to note that sometimes high literature looks like a man with a silenced shotgun.
I never thought about burning books as much as I did while reading Clive Barker’s latest creation Mister B. Gone. It’s kind of hard not to think about it when the first thing the book says to you is, “Burn this book.” This isn’t a political or revolutionary metaphor. The book wants you to burn it, or more specifically, the demon bound within the book’s pages wants you to burn it. It’s a long story—and a good one at that. The book is a living diary of Jakabok Botch, a demon from the ninth circle of hell. From behind his prison of ink and paper, Jakabok, or Mister B. for short, tells of how he got from his little slice of hell to the confines of the book. Rather than a thorough autobiography of a demon, this book is the ramblings of a prisoner who finally has an eager audience willing to listen to his stories. It is the destruction of the barrier between the reader and the storyteller that makes this book unique from anything that Barker has created in the past. The reader doesn’t experience the bulk of the book from some omnipotent all-knowing narrator but instead is told tales of love, pain, and blood, directly from the source. In
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between recounting his past, Mister B. is constantly begging the reader to stop reading any further and to burn the book while there is still time. Using every tactic imaginable, Mister B. threatens, demands, and pleads for the destruction of the book by the cleansing flame. He desires freedom and never lets you forget it. Overall, Mister B. Gone was all that I have come to expect from Clive Barker and more. For those who have never read Clive Barker, this book may not be the best introduction to his work, as he takes his work in a different direction. However, for those of you who have bathed in his Books of Blood and partaken of The Hellbound Heart, then there is all the gore and terror you could hope for and so much more locked away in this little black treasure. So if you find yourself interested in starting up a conversation with a demon, find yourself a copy of Mister B. Gone and enjoy an experience you won’t soon forget.
12 November 2007
Voxtrot Henry Fonda Theatre Los Angeles
Photo by William Lasser
A Little Bit Louder Now $16
Doors at 8pm Sunday, December 2nd
Sure, they’re not reinventing the rock ‘n roll wheel here, but their fun indie pop is a refreshingly bold taste in a world of bland unoriginality. The Henry Fonda Theatre is just big enough to be comfortable, but still small enough to be pretty intimate. This beautiful venue will definitely be a great place to enjoy a delightful show with these Austin, Texas natives.
Review by Allan Steiner
Y Vampire Weekend The Echo Los Angeles
Doors at 8.30pm Monday, December 3rd
These four cheeky boys, fresh out of Columbia University, are taking the indie scene by storm with their Mark Mothersbaugh-infused afro-pop. Okay, maybe that’s not really an easy comparison to imagine, but anyone who feels as charmed by white boys playing African music (think Paul Simon’s Graceland) as I do should be sure to catch Vampire Weekend this December.
KRS-One Rhythm Lounge Long Beach
Doors at 8pm Friday, December 7th
Long considered throughout the hip-hop community as “one of the greatest rappers to ever hold the mic,” KRSOne is bringing his politically- aware hip-hop to Long Beach, where he’ll be playing at a tiny little club on Spring. Plus, KRS-One founded his own religion, and it commands that you go see him in Long Beach.
Andrew Bird Orpheum Theatre Los Angeles
Doors at 7pm Friday, December 7th
Andrew Bird’s live show essentially consists of him, his guitar, and his violin. Sure, there’s a drummer and a bassist present, but you won’t be paying attention to them, because you’ll be amazed by the fact that Bird builds his live performances by recording his violin live onstage, looping it, and then playing over himself. Definitely not a show to be missed.
12 November 2007
ou know that you are no longer a stranger to live music when you don’t mind missing an opening band. At this point, the Henry Fonda is like a third home to me, with home and my dorm being first and second, respectively. I feel in my element there, comfortable among a sea of unfamiliar faces. The Fonda is so very familiar to me at this point that I get the feeling that the employees are probably starting to recognize me. But I am getting ahead of myself… Enter my dorm Monday, November 5th. I could be seen studying on and off for a Calculus test that I would later bomb. I was on Facebook, fucking around, procrastinating and complaining about my impending demise in the form of higher derivatives. I received a message informing me that I could win two tickets to see The Shout Out Louds. I was already going to the show thanks to a press pass in my name, but figured I could get some of my suitemates to go with me if I did in fact win. I put my name in the running, knowing in my head that signing up for any contest was futile since I have never won a thing in my life. Skip to 2 hours later, when I got a followup message reading: Hi Allan, You are confirmed for two tickets to see Shout Out Louds with Johnossi & Nico Vega TONIGHT at The Fonda. I had won? Answer: yes. Needless to say, I was pretty flabbergasted. But I soon came to the realization that nobody in my dorm was free for the night. So I had two extra tickets, and nobody to give them to. Since I am too proud to own up to getting lost on the way to the Fonda, The rest of this article will take place after we had at the show. In case you care to know the street value of scalped Shout Out Louds tickets, I was able to sell the extra tickets at the venue for $15 a piece, which put an extra $30 in pocket. We had already missed Johnossi, the first act, which sort of sucks, since what I’ve heard of them sounds very good. After a quick look at the merchandise, we made our way up to the patio on the roof of the Fonda before wandering back inside to watch the second openers, Nico Vego, take the stage. The group’s performance was awesome. All three members had a great stage presence and put together a really cool show. I think I’m pretty much a sucker for any cool band with a female vocalist, but I have seen some pretty horrible opening acts and this definitely was not one of them. When the curtain rose once again, a dark stage lay before us as the five-member outfit walked onstage one by one. With frontman Adam Olenius sporting white slacks, a white button up and a tweed jacket, the group proceeded to dive directly into a track from their new CD. Now, If you haven’t heard Shout Out Louds, first off, thank you for being the kind of person who reads stuff about a band they don’t listen to. Second off, you are missing out. For the life of me, I can’t put my finger on why this band is so incredibly catchy, but I believe I have had most of their
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discography stuck in my head at one time or another. Most of the group’s new stuff sounds pretty incredible live thanks to the fact that it is much more instrumentally intensive then their older stuff. The set consisted of 10 songs off of the band’s latest release, 6 older songs, and a cover of The Pogues which was one of the biggest highlights of the show. I’ll explain: 2 songs before the group walked off the stage the first time, they welcomed a special guest: The Pogues. The Pogues, for those of you not in the know, are a highly influential Irish band. If you want more information, hit up Wikipedia. Anyhow, The Pogues, or at least a couple of them, took the stage to join Shout Out Louds in a cover of their own “Streams of Whiskey.” Needless to say, it was amazing. The other highlight of the show was seeing the band play the single off of their new album entitled “Tonight I Have to Leave It.” For this song, they brought out members of the opening bands to join them on stage to help the song rock that much harder. The entire performance of this one song was mind-blowing. The band then left the stage before coming back for a three-song encore. The curtain closed once again and we headed towards the merch table to spend some of the money I had made scalping tickets. We left, made the drive back to Long Beach, and I went home to get some much needed sleep.
Furnin’ Down The House
It was a Monday night, driving into Hollywood, and the recent fires had cast a post-apocalyptic haze over the city of Los Angeles. I was coming from Long Beach with a man I had met only an hour ago in tow, and I only had one press pass. As we made our way north on I-405, squinting through the thick cloud of ash and smoke, the lights from the opposite lane of traffic fragmented and blinding, I prayed that the show wasn’t sold out. If it was, I’d be responsible for Dylon, the stranger from Seattle who had tagged along for the night. My friend Clancy had convinced me that bringing Dylon along was a good idea. After all, I didn’t want to make the drive alone and he was willing to pay for his own ticket and half of parking. The fact that we had exchanged fewer than five words before we set off seemed inconsequential. We spoke tersely in the car, feeling each other out. “So, how do you know Clancy?” I must have asked eight or nine times. “How on earth did Clancy convince me to bring a complete stranger along to a potentially sold out show?” I was asking internally.
Sherman Oaks Now Open Tarzana Now Open West LA Opening Soon Brea Cerritos Culver City Orange Riverside Sherman Oak s Santa Ana Tarzana Westminster ATouchOfRomance.c o m
We arrived at the Troubadour to an abundance of surgical masks that made me wonder if perhaps we’d gotten the venue wrong and gone to a Clinic show instead. Then I remembered the fires—and the fact that Dylon still needed a ticket. We shoved our way through the wall of people and smoke—some of it from the fires, but most from other concertgoers’ cigarettes—and got to the ticket booth. There were plenty left. Apparently, I had overestimated the Fiery Furnaces’ popularity. “So what do the Fiery Furnaces sound like?” Dylon asked as we watched the opening band pack up their instruments (I’d discuss them here, but I don’t know what they sound like. We arrived at the show the only proper way: fashionably late).Long “Um,”Beach I said, after severalNov minutes Union 12 of thinking, “Well, they’re good.” Dylon shot me a look of disgust. “Like, really really good,” I amended, my natural gift for words serving me well. This time his look said, “Seriously? You’re a music writer?” Opting out of any further attempts at conversation, we studied
the banner behind the instruments on stage which featured fragments of the band’s lyrics written in loopy cursive with red, yellow and blue paint. Finally, the Fiery Furnaces took the stage. They opened the set with a song from Widow City, their latest release which I had yet to buy. I was thoroughly impressed. There was a moment that was almost magical as the audience watched Eleanor Friedberger taking a sip of her water in awe. Then the obligatory Drunk Guy chimed in. “Eleanor!” he screamed several times in rapid succession. When she failed to respond, he moved on to her brother. “Matt! You’re a genius!” The audience groaned and exchanged eye-rolls. “Play ‘Quaker!’” he slurred, reaching up and grabbing Eleanor’s ankle. She was surprisingly tolerant. She squatted down on stage and asked him to repeat himself. “Play ‘Quaker!’” he demanded again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is,” Eleanor said, obviously confused. The drunken fan belligerently repeated his request until Matthew figured out what he meant. “Oh, he doesn’t know how to pronounce ‘Quay Cur,’” he informed his sister, saying it “Kee-Kuhr.” I was glad to see him shot down, but embarrassed to realize that I too had been pronouncing the song title incorrectly (though in my defense, phonetically). When the band opted not to play “Quay Cur,” Drunk Guy compensated by treating the audience to his own rendition. “And now I’ll never, never, never feel like I am safe again,” he sang in an awkwardly high-pitched voice. Dylon buried his face in my shoulder and groaned. Despite Drunk Guy, the Fiery Furnaces played a phenomenal set that perfectly suited the disjointed feel of the evening. They went from musical theater to death metal in under sixty seconds, folk to funk in a blink. As Dylon and I walked out of the Troub’, this time arm-in-arm, he turned to me and used the words I’d been searching for all night. “I think I get it now—they’re just kind of unclassifiable.” “Maybe you should write the article,” I responded. -By Erin Hickey
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12 November 2007
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More than Skeletons in the Congressional Closet Rep. David Dreier (R-CA)
Rep. Ed Schrock (R-VA)
Although he is openly referred to as homosexual— outed by Doug Ireland under the Frank Rule—Rep. Dreier has been slow to admit that fact to himself despite his relationship with his chief of staff Brad W. Smith. This would normally be cute if it weren’t for his anti-gay legislative history. Even with his obvious hypocrisy, Dreier appears every week on Dennis Miller Live, so at least we know he’s not a neo-con. He recently voted against the Federal Marriage Amendment, stating that the Constitution is no place to restrict Civil Rights.
Yet another notoriously anti-gay legislator was found to be fishing internet and other gay dating networks for other men. He was even a co-sponsor of the Federal Marriage Amendment, which sought to constitutionally define marriage as being solely between a man and a woman. He has a huge Christian constituency despite his apparent sexual orientation, begging the question of whether a lawmaker should stay true to his contingency or to his personal beliefs.
The Controversy and Hypocrisy
he recent Larry Craig sex-soliciting scandal has shaken up the Washington snow-globe, bringing more than a few top lawmakers to the center stage over various sex scandals and allegations of homosexuality. The catch here is that almost every one of these conflicted politicians had a very strong anti-gay position, voting for certain antigay marriage legislation and against laws to prevent workplace discrimination based on sexual orientation. This is the image of the hypocrisy that we, the America people, face when we look to the supposed leaders of our country, especially those who defined morals so strictly for
you need proof that “IfLarry Craig is NOT
ter shows that the country expects more morality from our elected officials. In the past, Congressmen have decided to come out of the closet like Rep. Gerry Studds and had a successful political career, being true to themselves and in the process supporting some very important civil liberties legislation. On the other hand, many Congressmen are expected to reflect the attitude of their constituents (mostly heterosexual or conservative) rather than their own personal beliefs. This conflict of interests could also be the cause of the closeting of some of our nation’s leaders.
Sen. Larry Craig (R-ID) “I am not gay. I never have been gay...” said Sen. Craig of his June 2007 arrest in the Minneapolis Airport for disorderly conduct. His crime? Trying to solicit sex from an undercover cop in the bathroom. This notoriously anti-gay statesman has voted numerous times against gay marriage bills, suppressing even same-sex civil-unions. Despite those supposed convictions, his sexuality has been in question for almost twenty years, culminating in soliciting sex in public. Some people have come out with allegations of gay affairs that he had during his marriage and political career.
gay, here it is: he’s married! To a woman! A she-woman!
—Jon Stewart The Daily Show
Dont’ Speak for Me, GOP
The Frank Rule
A person can be forced out of the closet if they use their power or position to hurt the gay community, named after openly gay Rep. Barney Frank (D-MA) who has been blunt in outing certain Republicans.
By Darren Davis
When I turned 18 those long years ago, I registered to vote under the Right because my father was then, and still is, an upper-middle class “yell-at-the-TV” Republican, and I thought myself as cut from the same cloth. Needless to say I am no longer a registered Republican, despite the fact that I still consider myself, at most, a moderate conservative. I simply refuse to align myself with a group that speaks not only for a political ideal but a religious one, and has become blatantly careless with their responsibility to such. The names on this page are a testament to a party in shambles. The moral degradation of our leaders remains peculiarly mono-partisan. Either hypocritical homosexuality and pedophilic tendencies are a Senate-wide thing and Democrats show more finesse
with their hiding of it, or the Right needs to put a mirror to itself and figure out what it is that makes their higher-ups commit the same acts behind closed doors that they condemn as sin in public. Either way, with the current state of things, I do not want the Republicans to speak for me, nor my family. Even my father can’t deny the fact that his Grand Old Party is running the risk of alienating its demographic, and is becoming increasingly irrelevant on the grand stage. They have lost the convenience of moral superiority and now stand helpless against the Leftist front. Whether or not a Democratic President and Congress will be able to save our country of political stagnation remains to be seen. But thing is certain: Republicans need to clean up or clean house.
Rep. Bob Allen (R-FL)
Rep. Mark Foley (R-FL)
While Larry Craig was trying to get lucky in Minneapolis, Rep. Bob Allen was arrested outside of a bathroom in a Florida public park after offering a police officer a blowjob and $20. He was paying to perform the act himself, making him not just a corporate whore, but a quite literal one. He was ultimately sentenced to sixty days for solicitation of prostitution. It seems that the intensely closeted lifestyle that he led pushed him to questionable sexual practices on the sly, upsetting his wife and his constituents with the legal ramifications.
They just don’t make ‘em like Mark Foley anymore. It takes a fair dose of gumption to spend a career in Congress fighting child pornography while maintaining raunchy relationships with your pages. Great stuff. It was last fall that Foley’s scandals were found in the public laundry baskets—and oh were the shit-stains plentiful. Instant messages were recovered by ABC’s Brian Ross, many pointing towards Foley asking former pages for photos and lewd favors. Rest assured, these favors did not include seeking and destroying child pornography.
‘Til the Vitter End
By Chris “Science” Barrett
Until recently Senator David Vitter has been faithfully and convincingly portraying his life as a satire of conservative American morals and, amazingly, has fooled most with it while in the public spotlight. Vitter has attempted to give $100,000 of taxpayer money to an organization for its effort to replace evolution theory with creationism in education. Vitter has promoted abstinence-only education programs for reducing teenage promiscuity and promoting faithfulness in relationships even though studies show that such programs are ineffective. Most notably, though, Vitter came into office because his predecessor was caught having mul-
I’m a lot more like Lorena Bobbitt than Hillary [Clinton]. If he does something like that, I’m walking away with one thing, and it’s not alimony, trust me.
—Wendy Vitter, wife of Sen. Vitter in 2004 12 November 2007
By Michaël Veremans
the rest of us. Web blogger Michael Rogers has taken the initiative to forcefully out some of these lawmakers who have been harming the gay community and indeed all progressively minded people in America. There are a few ethical questions that this affair raises as well. The first is what the legality of the matter is. Sen. Craig was asked to temporarily step down by the Senate Ethics Community for his charge. Should a politician that breaks the law immediately be asked to step down? Furthermore, would a Senator receive as much attention if he had been caught soliciting straight sex? I think the case with Sen. Vit-
tiple affairs, then later admit to his own infidelity after denying affairs for years. This recent revelation, which solidifies his infidelity, came about in a complicated turn of events unrelated to himself. DC Madam is a woman who runs one of 83 legal escort services in Washington DC. Recently she came under attack for running a prostitution service. When it was found that one of her escorts was in fact sleeping with clients, DC Madam decided to make public the list of phone numbers that customers used to hire that escort and Vitter’s number was on that list among various other
lawmakers and corporate big-wigs. This hiccup hasn’t brought an end to Vitter’s ruse, though. Like the skillful performer he is, Vitter followed through by acting indignant that anyone thought he should resign, that it’s anyone’s business, or that it actually mattered at all. Sorry to break it to you, but when a married, conservative, republican Senator is caught paying for sex and lying about it, it’s hard for his constituents to comprehend. He was eager to tell other people how to live their lives, but like the late Catholic Church, he just couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Sen. David Vitter (R-LA) While Harvard and Oxford may have taught David Vitter enough to earn him a seat in the U.S. Senate, they failed him in prostitute discretion. His phone number showed up on a list made up of clients for the “DC Madam,” otherwise known as Deborah Jeane Palfrey and a whore for Washington politicians. Hey, at least politicians agree on something: Palfrey must have been a really solid prostitute. If only they concurred on some more important issues…
Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
During the period that I was closeted for seven years, I was always a gay rights supporter. I think it’s a fundamental violation of principles to vote one way and act another.
—Rep. Barney Frank
Documentaries Shine at Student Film Showcase By Cynthia Romanowski
or the first time, in seventeen years, three documentaries were screened at CSULB’s annual Student Film Showcase at the Directors Guild of America Thursday Nov. 8. The event included 14 CSULB student films which ran for a total of two-and-a-half-hours. The reception that followed the screening consisted of the film directors, cast, and an audience of professionals in the entertainment industry, who nibbled on cheese, crackers and Baklava and discussed their work. According to the chair of the Department of Film and Electronic Arts, Craig Smith, the films are viewed by all the production faculty without credits and then ranked. The top ten films make it into the showcase. “We have ramped up the documentary track within the production option.” said Smith. “We have wonderful people teaching documentary films.” The first documentary showcased was My Leisure World, a 12-minute glimpse into the social lives of senior citizens by Jessica McCarty. Unlike narrative films which spend a lot of time on pre-production writing, casting, and directing, post-production is much more grueling for documentaries. “All of it is based on actually going out there and shooting. Once you get out there, there’s no control at all,” said McCarty. “You’re using real people in real life trying to capture it the best you can.” One of the documentary filmmakers, Eric Kim had over 300 minutes of film that he ended up cutting down to 11 minutes. His film Where Did Time Go? followed the story of Bellflower’s lost time capsule from 1957. “The documentaries were terrific. Where Did Time Go? was the most professional documentary,” said Max Smerling of Lakeshore Entertainment who attend the event based on the “gorgeously produced” invitation. Overall, Smerling was expecting the student films to be better and was surprised that the filmmakers didn’t incorporate more experimental techniques. He cited general problems with the
writing and sound. craft service that This statement is surprising considering the new people were getting sound lab and upgraded sound stage available to fed, whereas I students due to a $560,000 anonymous donation to should have been the department. paying attention to “The quality of work has always been good but what we were going our students have been disadvantaged because we to shoot next,” Said didn’t have the kind of equipment and the number Bergez. of faculty that a USC or a UCLA has,” said Smith. “Now we have supplemented our budget with outside money, a $1.4 million dollars outside anonymous grant. Sound is very important to film…you can hear the difference on these films.” The films are senior projects made by students with an emphasis on production. The entire process takes anywhere from one semester to a year and a half to finish, from the beginning stages of writing to completion. Funding is also an issue. Gabe Micheal, director of the 7-minute film Smooch, worked three jobs and helped flip a house to pay for his film about a 10 year-old’s first kiss. The tagline read, “Is it love, or just a really big fart?” The filmmakers have to wear many hats ranging from producing to writing, directing and casting. Many of them said they enjoyed the entire process. McCarty and Mary Fecteau, who worked on documentaries, said that the people they met while filming was there favorite part of the project. Through filming The Neccesary Assassination of George Lucas director Ryan Bergez learned a valuable lesson. “I loved writing it and essentially produced it at the same time which I think in hindsight I would never do again…I would be paying attention to Illustration By Gary Booth
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Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
12 NOVEMBER 2007
[Comics] You’re STUCK Here! By Victor! Perfecto
Girly-Girl By Christropher Troutman
Koo Koo & Luke By Jesse Blake
Sad Truth Comic By The Sixth Element
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Long Beach Union Weekly • The Students’ Newspaper
Angelina Now 25% Jolier
Spider-Girl Lays Nest in Your Heart
TWO GIRLS. ONE CUP.
See Scissor Me Timbers page 8
Coolest Kid in the 4th Grade Peaks Early
Cappy Morgan: For the younger demographic.
Kobe’s One Man Show to Debut Off Broadway
See Photorealistic Boobiewulf page 4
“Parking Services Can’t Touch Me” Says Outed Faux-Permit Kingpin By Earl Grey GRUNION HOME SKILLET
ONG BEACH, CA- After months of confusion amongst the faculty of California State University Long Beach and the subsequent celebration from students of all walks of life, the elusive figure known to the campus most prominantly as “The Guerrilla of Lot 14” has revealed his true identity. Chad Bastion, a 25 year-old student teacher out of the College of Natural Sciences and Mathematics, has gone public and confessed to his role in the CSULB parking pass forgery and distribution ring that crippled the campus’ economy during the Fall ‘07 semester. While the False Permit Underground was initially thought to be a rumor—whispers of an inside man handing out high quality forgeries in the late days of summer—the obvious over-congestion of both lot 14 and the lower campus parking structure by early September led faculty members to believe that the Slot Bandit was, in fact, a real, iminent threat.
The administration’s response was quick and vicious. Many alleged culprits were aprehended and questioned before mid-terms even hit, all of whom produced less-thanfruitful results. A November census revealed that nearly half of all general permits were forgeries. This made it clear, to the dismay of Parking Services, that students had simply stopped purchasing their passes by conventional means, and that the Beach Black Market was more organized than initially expected. After the track and soccer fields were paved to make room for the influx of student vehicles, all attempts to catch the Guerrilla of Lot 14 ceased as the administration turned their attention to preventing forgeries in the Spring ‘08 semester. All mention of the Vehicle Vigilante died on the lips of the faculty by finals week, until a tape was found on the doorstep of the K-Beach office this past Monday morning with a note that read “Play Me at Lunch. Yours, CB.” The tape turned out to be a recorded message from Bastion and revealed that he acquired the means to reproduce parking permits from his mentor, the late Dr. Steven
Killborne, while the former Biology professor was on his deathbed. Dr. Killborne was long thought to be involved in illegal permit and Subway lunch ticket forgery for years, but substantial evidence was never found. Bastion then stated that he had been distributing false permits via dummy organizations on campus. One such organization was revealed to be the Union Weekly’s poorly named Nothing Illegitimate Probably Happening Subcommittee. In revealing his identity, Bastion seemed unconcerned with any legal repercussions. “Parking services can’t touch me,” he said midway through his taped message, “By the time you receive this I’ll already be at Cal-Tech, on a grant, mind you. To prosecute me you would have to get through their department chair. And she is a bitch, believe you me.” Bastion also made reference to the infamous Skeleton Permit, a universal pass supposidely laminated by Henry Ford and Governor Earl Warren when plans for the University were made offical in 1947. “Yeah I have it,” Bastion laughed in his closing statements, “Come get it, suckas.”
I’m Tired of Having Sex With People Who Don’t Realize I’m Bob Dylan By Bob Dylan GRUNION SELF-EXPLANATION
The Reviews Are In: Plymouth Theatre to make trade for The Vagina Monologues.
Soldier Prays Amy Winehouse Will Face Her Demons
How does it feel to have sex with me? Well, for one, man, I mean, I’m Bob Dylan. I’ve changed the course of music forever, you know. How many albums must a man release before you can call me by my name, man? Look out kid, here I am talking to girls in strip clubs who tie my shoe laces and give me books of poetry. I’ve got girls in the North Country and girls who are artists and got everything they need, and yet, still man, I’m making love to these woman who don’t know I’m Bob Dylan. Which is nice, I guess, because it’s nice just to be who I am, whoever that is. But still, I’m Bob Dylan, man. I’m not obscure you know, I’ve even been in a Victoria’s Secret commercial, just to fuck with people man, and I know women watch those commercials. Last year man, I was in an iTunes commercial, and, you know, I’m Bob Dylan. Sometimes these steam-shovel mamas wind up in my bed and they’ll even know my songs, man, but they don’t know who I am, like, they know who I am, they know of me, man. They don’t know that I’m that guy. Most of ‘em think I’m already dead, man. I’ll go cook some eggs and some toast and they ask me my name and I say “Bob Dylan” and they know it sounds familiar but they don’t connect that name with the fact that I introduced The Beatles to pot and then they started making good music or that I wrote “Blowin’ in the Wind,” man. It’s almost like, and here it is man, it’s like those cats that know that I have a bad voice but they’ve never heard any of my songs, you know? These woman know that I exist, but they don’t know of me. And I guess, that it’s kind of a relief that they don’t know me, but at a certain point man, I just gotta say that I’m kind of a legendary artist. I’m that guy that everybody knows about, Bob Dylan. And it’s not like I’m going after birds that are sixteen, man, but even then I would at least expect them to know who I was. I may be reclusive and I don’t like talking to most people, but it’s just that I get so sick of people knowing who I am and treating me strange. But these women, these chicks, man, I just don’t see how they don’t know who I am. I’m just really tired man, of having sex
Mr. Zimmerman (Above) is having a little trouble communicating with other human beings these days.
with women who don’t realize I’m Bob Dylan. See man, look at me, I’ve got a pencil moustache, and a far out, curly Jew-fro, and I’m tiny man, I mean, I’m a skinny old man, man. It sort of strikes me as odd that these woman would have sex with me without knowing that I’m Bob Dylan. But it just annoys me, man, I’ve worked too hard for this. I’ve been recording albums for almost fifty years, you know, and now these girls are trying to classify me as someone who’s not Bob Dylan. I just don’t like being pigeon-holed man.
Disclaimer: The Grunion is now more than 3 decades old, and we have only become more debonair with age. But there is one thing that has not changed in our epic, occasionally violent history: We still are neither ASI nor GOP. The views and opinions explicitly stated or alluded to on this page still do not represent the views and opinions of the CSULB campus, nor do they necessarily adhere to the moral fabric of the writers. We do this to secure the cheap seats in the deeper, more satirical bowels of Hell, and because the elephant in the room is becoming a bit of a sass-mouth. Send rags to firstname.lastname@example.org. Your black cat is not missing.