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ISSUE 66.07 “All the symbolism that people say is shit. What goes beyond is what you see beyond when you know.”

JOE BRYANT Editor-in-Chief

-Ernest Hemingway

RACHEL RUFRANO Managing Editor



Managing Editor


riting well is tough, there’s no doubt about it. But after going through the submissions for this week’s feature, I’ve gained a new respect for my teachers. I’m a creative writing major, so believe me when I say that I’ve had to squirm through my fair share of drunk stories, suicide stories, wizard stories, ninja stories, wizard-ninja stories (wizja stories?), but can you imagine having to sift through hundreds of those every semester? Well, now that I’ve had a glimpse into that life, I can safely say I want no part of it. Pretty sure I’d start telling people to give up on their dreams and change their major to English education on the first day of workshop. There were a few really good stories submitted that we just couldn’t publish because they didn’t meet the prerequisites of either category’s word count. That said, a big shout out goes to Eric Bryan, whose story was beautifully written, but fell smack-dab between those two word counts. Sorry, man. Couldn’t bend the rules for nobody. Funny thing about getting a bachelor’s


ANDY KNEIS Sports Editor


Literature Editor & PR



in creative writing: there’s very little I can do with it. It’s a degree, granted, and there are some jobs you just flat out can’t get without one, but overall I’m fucked. Unless I have a bulky résumé. Having worked for the Union for a couple years, I luckily have that, but I wonder what it’s like for the dude that wrote his Harry Potter-Dragonlance-ripoff-coming-of-age-epic my first year. Jesus Christ. That guy was the worst. Let’s check out this week’s mailbag. To whom it may concern (which is pretty much Mr. Palotta and Mr. Beltran): Although I loved the little “Disturbing” feature, which effectively convinced me in seeking out these films and diving into their disturbingness, you guys failed to mention Lars von Trier’s Antichrist! As slow as it is, at first, by the end it just all culminates into a disturbing madness! Not only does Charlotte Gainsbourg’s character crush her husband’s testicles and immediately afterward gives him a hand job that results in a bloody mess, she also goes on to cut off her own clitoris with some rusty scissors. I know, I know, I’m sure there are many other movies

that were left out, maybe you guys haven’t seen Antichrist, and maybe I’m not qualified to judge because I haven’t seen the films featured, but I have to bring up this movie for the sake of disturbing movies. Other than that keep up the good work. I’m really liking the issues, I look forward to them every Monday, and my backpack is stuffed with them. They are truly effective in squishing my mind grapes. Love and Kisses, Kevin Jorge-Cruz Marco and Beef did consider Antichrist for the list, but ultimately dismissed it for Necromantik. They didn’t want the article to get too top-heavy with dick mutilations. That said, Antichrist is extremely disturbing and I urge those of you out there that hate genitalia to watch it (you can watch it instantly if you’ve got Netflix). And dude, you haven’t lived until you’ve watched Toxic Avenger. Get on that yesterday. Who knows? Joe knows.

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News Director




Entertainment Editor & PR



Creative Arts Editor



Comics Editor Culture Editor



Art Director, cover design (w/ Chris Fabela)

ANDREW LEE Photo Editor


On-Campus Distribution


Web Editor, cover photo


Advertising Executive


Disclaimer and Publication Information The Union Weekly is published using ad money and partial funding provided by the Associated Students, Inc. All Editorials are the opinions of the writer, and are not necessarily the opinions of the Union Weekly, ASI, or of CSULB. All students are welcome and encouraged to be a part of the Union Weekly staff. All letters to the editor will be considered for publication. However, CSULB students will have precedence. All outside submissions are due by Thursday, 5 PM to be considered for publishing the following week and become property of the Union Weekly. Please include name, major, class standing, and phone number for all submissions. They are subject to editing and will not be returned. Letters may or may not be edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, and length. The Union Weekly will publish anonymous letters, articles, editorials and illustrations, but must have your name and information attached for our records. Letters to the editor should be no longer than 500 words.


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15 MARCH 2010



Questions? Comments? MAIL : 1212 Bellflower Blvd. Suite 239, Long Beach, CA 90815 PHONE : 562.985.4867 FAX : 562.985.8161 E-MAIL : WEB :



In 1968, over 80 artists including the likes of Yoko Ono, Meret Oppenheim, Claes Oldenberg, and Marcel Duchamp created a body of work for a series called Shit Must Stop in which the artists created boxed pieces that were mailed to various individuals. It’s not artistic terrorism but rather an encouragement that art should be experienced rather than worshipped. Now, CSULB has six of these mailings and will present them on Tuesday March, 16th at the University Art Museum, 12pm - 5pm. If you’re like me and you’ve watched all of those Travel Channel Most Haunted Lighthouses/ Bordellos/Moustaches/ etc. you know that the Queen Mary is haunted. What, you’ve never been? Well, you’re procrastinating butt is so lucky because this March only the Queen Mary is offering two for one general admission to all California residents. Attraction hours are from 10am - 6pm. So you screwed up and everyone hates you. Give your friends a semester to a year to forget, while you become an enigma in a foreign country. Learn how at the Third Annual Study Abroad Expo, Wednesday, March 18th 11am - 3pm, Maxson Plaza. There will be representatives from both CSULB based and external study abroad programs. Call (562) 985-8429 for more information. It’s going to start staying lighter out later, and in a high-spirited announcement of the best day of the year (Daylight Savings!) I thought I should tell you that the pool in the USU is absolutely free to students, alumni, faculty, staff and non-students. Pool Hours for the spring semester are Monday - Friday: 10am – 5pm. Not to be confused with billiards, that’ll cost you. No lifeguard on duty for either. Need a sexy summer job? Long Beach Fire Department Marine Safety Division will hold lifeguard tryouts on Sunday, March 28th. No prior experience is needed but you will have to complete a physical examination that includes a 1000-yard ocean swim. For more information call (562) 570-1360. On the third Saturday of every month there is an organized 30-minute beach clean up at 10am. Meet on the beach at 1 Granada Ave. Parking, bags, gloves, refreshments, and volunteer credit forms are provided. Questions should be directed at Justin Rudd, (562) 439-3316.



his weekend, Long Beach’s American Indian community came out to represent at the 40th Annual CSULB Pow Wow. This traditional social celebration is one of the largest in the nation in honor of our American Indian Studies program, which happens to be the oldest of its kind west of the Mississippi. The festival consisted of live music, dancing, arts, crafts, and food, set up in a giant swap meet of concentrated culture in the upper campus courtyard. The center of the festival consisted of an expansive dance circle, where participants dressed in authentic garb and competed for best costume and dance ability. Each costume’s design was specific to the contestant’s tribe, which varied from simple embroider-

ies to three-foot headpieces of beads and feathers. A twenty-piece drum circle drove the group of dancers, which traded playing songs from Northern and Southern tribes that vary in vocal and rhythmic styles. The dancers knew these songs passed down through the generations, and were judged on their authenticity to their tribe and style. Older men and women were seen walking almost solemnly to the beat, while the younger contestants were more free and expressive in their movements. The festival sold traditional foods like mutton, beef stew, fry bread, Navajo tacos, and Indian burgers. Arts and crafts of all kinds were available for purchase at the celebration, including dream catchers, jewelry, clothing

and bags. The scent of fry bread and incense traveled the campus, reaching those who approached far before they could see the festival grounds. Booths were set up on the outskirts of the event for numerous American Indian organizations, including the American Indian Mental Health Association and the 2010 Census. Though this celebration may have seemed like an overwhelming cloud of foreign tradition to an outsider, each detail of elaborate attire and spiritual movement was deliberate in the proper representation of the nuances of each individual tribe. The Pan American, inter-tribal nature of the festival allowed for a blending of these details in one of the most culturally-rich experiences our campus has to offer.


March 4, 2010 was a day of protest across the US, but what I noticed was that most were using the event as an opportunity to either skip class, kill time before work, or get their friends to notice how politically active they are without knowing much about what was actually being attempted that day. Overall, I consider it a complete failure because all it showed the media was that you can get lots of people to chant and show off how creative they can be on a piece of poster paper.The protest was to walk out of class, basically going to class less to protest the fact that classes are being cut. Ever since the movie Walkout came out, walkouts have been the only form of civil disobedience anyone can come up with. The problem with the event is the same disease that seems to be plaguing many campuses across the nation, as

well as any protest of the last ten years, and that is lack of knowledge. The main goal of the protest should have been to inform the public of the value of the CSU like the California State Student Association (CSSA) is attempting to do with their “Made in the CSU” campaign. This campaign was created to reach audiences through media advertisements, namly a website at; which has figures on how the CSU impacts the economy and the workforce, promotional items distributed by CSU students, and postcards mailed to every California legislator’s office with a request for them to visit the website and pledge their support for an adequately funded CSU during the current state budget cycle. “Money spent on college students

is an investment in California’s future,” says Steve Dixon, CSSA President. “For every $1 in funding received by the CSU system, $4.62 is returned to the economy over time. Through this campaign, we are providing these facts to our parents, neighbors and colleagues so they can help us hold our legislators accountable.” For more information, or to pledge your support to the CSU system, just visit the www. or contact the Executive Director of the CSSA, Miles Jason Nevin. Send him a letter at Executive Director Office of University Affairs 401 Golden Shore, Suite 135Long Beach. Give him a call at his office at (562) 951-4024 or hit up his mobile at (562) 533-6312F, hell send him a fax at (562) 951-4860 or of course you could email him UNION WEEKLY

15 MARCH 2010





have a complaint. English teachers, you need to read this, because we have a problem, which isn’t your fault, necessarily. I graduate this semester and one of my majors is English Lit. Right now, I’m learning about literary theory… online. Online? What!?! Is this a class offered through the university? No. It’s a free video lecture from Yale that you can find on (fittingly). That’s cool, but why am I doing this? Shouldn’t I already know literary theory? I graduate this semester. You’re damn right I should, but somebody didn’t think it was important enough to make it a requirement, let alone to offer it as a class. And get this, it hasn’t been taught since Spring semester 2005! What’s more, it’s only Contemporary Literary Theory, which of course is more relevant, but what about the thinking that preceded it, isn’t that important to the understanding of contemporary theory? Reader, I probably sound like a nerd who likes to rant about wanting more homework



and wanting to think all the time, and you know what, I am, but paying shitloads for it (I’m a foreigner), can I at least get a proper education? This is not cool. I don’t know how to apply literary theory at all, and trust me, I’m not stupid. In spite of having no clue about Lit Crit, I write great papers (when I want to), but what about it? I’ve spent two and a half years at Cal State (junior transfer) to just know more books and write a bit better than I did before? How much is that gonna help me in grad school? Not much. We need a solid literary theory class, at least 4 units, preferably two classes, a historic one and a contemporary one. How many of you English majors actually know how to apply, let alone understand, Deconstruction, for instance? My point is that theory is exactly what an English major should know, because it is the basis for reading and writing at a scholarly level—it will make you understand the world better, it will make you smarter, and wait a minute, isn’t

that what education is? And while I’m at it, what the hell is up with the survey courses, 250A+B and 270A+B? They are too small, and we end up skimming (which I know is unavoidable to a certain extent) through everything and nothing, and then we get to read some of those works three or four times over in other classes. What’s wrong with having certain works be mandatory in the survey courses? I never read any Joyce for instance, how is that possible, wasn’t he the greatest modernist writer in English or something? I don’t know, the survey courses I took didn’t cover him, I’ve only read parts of Dubliners in 380 with professor Blankley, whom I recommend if you like learning, and I’m about to read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in the second class I’m taking with her, 20th century English Lit. Nothing in the survey classes? Really? And get this, my roommate is also an English major about to graduate, and he hasn’t read any, get this, Shakespeare! That tells me something is wrong with the format.

I know that teachers pick what they want, and that’s fine to a certain extent, but come on, can we at least get the major works? Not many people are gonna debate the importance of Joyce, but if they would I’d be standing there with my English B.A. not having a clue. Of course, I’ll read his works on my own, but I paid for this shit. What’s wrong with this department? I feel saying that all you English majors should consider Comparative World Literature if this continues, I’ve only heard great things about that department and I’m in two classes this semester, and they’re great. I wish that would have been my major. But, now I’m here, about to graduate, game over, and I guess I feel obligated to let you know how disappointed I am, and I hope you get a better education than I did, but that won’t happen unless you people (teachers, students, and bureaucrats) do something about this, ’cause I’m outta here.


College students are people with goals. I am one of these people, and after careful assessment, I can say that I have never once aspired to be run over by a moving vehicle. My goals have consistently been the exact opposite of this, and up until last semester, they had been well-maintained. It was not until lying as a twitchy, writhing mass in the middle of the crosswalk nearest to the fountain at Brotman Hall that I began to re-evaluate things. Unimpressively, the vehicle was a bicycle. The cyclist was coming from the direction of the Student Union. He had rounded the corner near the fountain and was rolling down the hill at a considerable speed, or at least at a speed considerable enough for me not to notice my impending doom. I was in the center UNION WEEKLY

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of the crosswalk, abiding the law, walking to class, listening to music, and probably wishing for something exciting to happen to me. I turned and realized both that the cyclist had disregarded the stop sign preceding the crosswalk and also that he had superb hipster taste and was riding a fixed gear bike, undoubtedly brakeless. It was the indieest accident ever. My feeble, useless body crumpled upon impact, the cyclist did not turn around or stop, and I was left to grapple with what seemed like a dozen concerned old ladies and a dignity-robbing half hour explaining to the ever-enlightened Campus Police what had happened. Worst of all, my iPod headphones had stayed lodged in my ears for the entire ordeal, so now I can’t

manage to listen to “Godspeed” by Jenny Lewis, an excellent song, without at least a tinge of the memory. Shitty! I feel that bicyclists are not appropriately accommodated on our campus. The school website states, “Current regulations prohibit bicycles and scooters, motorized and nonmotorized, on sidewalks or inside university buildings.” I’m aware that my experience was the result of a traffic violation and occurred in the street, but I walk to class every day as bikes swerve around pedestrians on every possible stretch of sidewalk. As someone who also rides a bike, I have not found a way to arrive anywhere on campus without using the sidewalk. Some parts of the road do not offer bike lanes, forcing cyclists to

decide between riding through the complete mess of traffic in the streets or weaving awkwardly around people on the sidewalk. The fact that people on bikes do not always have an area in which to ride endangers everyone. Campus Police explained that they deal with several incidents involving pedestrians each year. All I really suffered was an hour of embarrassment, but someone else might have been more seriously hurt. Considering that two pedestrians have been killed by motor vehicles near or on campus within this school year alone points to what should be regarded as something much more important, especially since the number of students moving through campus is higher now than ever before. Just saying!




arch marks the beginning of spring, green beer and apparently white history month. I don’t know if anybody has noticed the plethora of Facebook groups promoting this nonsense but they’re certainly out there. Some of my friends have joined hopefully as a joke,




but there is one simple reason why white history month is a goddamn lie. Every day is devoted to white history. I am a firm believer in being cultured and becoming unified through our differences but I draw the line at creating a month devoted to white people. The truth is white history has been shoved down my goddamn throat since I was five. The first thing I was taught was in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Everything that happened white people did it or so I was told. I don’t want to undermine white culture, among all the bad shit that happened there were some major accomplishments too. My father was a history professor who taught me the exact opposite of everything in school, black people did everything. Needless to say I was a defiant child in and out of school and extremely confused. I felt extremely awkward sitting in the class being the only black kid and the only thing I heard about black people is that they were slaves. This is why Black History Month is important to show that black people actually accomplished things besides being whipped and shackled. Naturally to find out more about this development in

white culture I googled white history month. I was basically bombarded with a bunch of blog posts about how it’s racist that white people don’t get a month and they deserve one if everyone else has one. I also saw the opposite saying that white history month is the worst idea ever. There’s even a guy in Farmington (wherever the fuck that is) who said, “When they promote one culture, one race, over any other race, it’s a bad thing. They shouldn’t do it. I think everybody should be treated equal. I have a real problem with that.” If everybody was treated equal then we wouldn’t need “Any Culture Month.” I would love to see the day when there didn’t need to be a month in order for a culture to be recognized. The truth is Black, Native American and Hispanic history is American history. We have been established as groups in this country since its inception. As I got older, especially in high school I had awesome teachers who fully recognized this fact and tried to shine equal light on other cultures. If someday people completely disregard white people’s role in structuring this country or their accomplishments I would gladly endorse white history month. Until that day the mere suggestion just infuriates me. To all the white people who think you are the forgotten people, or discriminated against I urge you to open a fucking history book and learn something.


15 MARCH 2010


Men’s varsity gets in an early morning workout. Not pictured: News Director Kevin O’Brien doing something dumb and getting confused looks from a whole boat of rowers.





spent the morning zipping around Alamitos Bay in a little motorboat, watching the men and women of the Long Beach Rowing team glide up and down the marina. The wind was numbing and the sun would not rise for another half hour, but they powered on, rowing their boats in quick synchronicity like human machinery. Their speed, strength, and control was impressive, especially considering that it was all happening at 5:45 in the morning before the majority of CSULB students had even woken up and reached for their first guarana and caffeine infused morning cocktail. After practice they brought the boats up onto the dock to wash off the saltwater. I caught up with Dustin Hardin, a rower for the men’s varsity team, “It’s definitely been a life changing experience. Crew is UNION WEEKLY

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actually the very first sport I have done and it’s been a blast, just to have the comradery and the relationships I have created with friends and to have developed that competitive edge.” I found this sentiment of fun, fraternity, and competition reiterated—never verbatim—as I met and spoke with various members of the Long Beach Rowing team, more commonly known as Beach Crew. Hardin continued, “Crew is a blast, especially if you’re trying to find a niche. I didn’t really feel a part of the school until I joined Crew. I was always involved in my studies, but I needed to do something else to make my time in college more fun. Not only did I get in really good shape, but also I made good friendships along the way. It’s definitely made my college experience worthwhile.” Beach Crew has brought meaning and

purpose to CSULB student’s lives for over 50 years. The program celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2008, making Beach Crew the oldest athletic program on campus. Each year Beach Crew takes some 50 walk-ons for the men and women’s novice crews. Those with little to no experience are more than welcome. Through a rigorous practice regimen they are trained and prepared from 5:30am to 7:30am six days a week. A transition that requires discipline and dedication, but is eased with the competitive drive that seems to be indicative of rowers. Laura Mellen, a rower for the women’s varsity team explained how she became involved with crew, “Well, I started off and I didn’t know if I was going to do it because it was so early, and then I met all of the girls and made super good friends with them and now

I’m super competitive with [Crew] and am really trying to get better. We work out at practice here and a lot of the girls will try to work out outside of school and practice in-between classes because we are really trying to get competitive with it.” That competitive drive is not only what brings people to row for the Beach Crew, but also what sustains them through their years in the program. Hardin described his first year. “My novice year was a lot of fun, just learning the ropes and now my varsity year we have really stepped up the competition and I’m looking forward to my last couple of months here. I graduate in May, so I’m trying to make it as much fun as I can before I can’t row anymore.” All this practice and training is put in with the goal of winning races and CONT’D NEXT PAGE >>>




Listening to myself describe the experience of being on the women’s crew team reminds me of someone recounting an alien abduction. It comes out as a wide-eyed, somewhat shoddily-assembled slew of details and does not often end up sounding as impressive as I would like it to. I just get excited. I will forever jump at the chance to convince any person of the many great things this sport has to offer, even if it means attempting to cram my enthusiasm into a manic eight seconds of conversation. At the risk of sentimentalizing things, I’ll simply state that being a part of rowing changes a person. This sport requires and teaches a unique blend of skills involving strength, synchronization, logic, confidence, communication and friendship. It is highly rewarding. Because of crew, I saw Washington and Philadelphia. I watched the sun come up every morning before class. I peed off the side of a boat into some body of water in San Diego. I made great friends. I worked harder at something than I ever had before and felt proud because of it. I am left with wonderful memories, contentedness at having participated in a collegiate tradition, and a spandex bodysuit I may never find another use for. Rowing was a big deal for me, and I wish more people had the opportunity to benefit from it. So ladies, join the crew team. Show up for a practice. Coaches are looking for rowers who are close to or greater than six feet in height and coxswains who weigh 125 pounds or less, but anyone with a strong motivation to learn and work hard will be appropriately welcomed and instructed. As someone with the athletic integrity of a fainting goat, I assure you that it is very possible to successfully participate regardless of your level of experience. You can find information at beachcrew. org. Get excited!

<<< CONT’D FROM LAST PAGE competing in the nationals, but winning is not the ultimate goal for the members of Beach Crew, it’s just the mean. Theirs is a deeper and more significant purpose of self-enrichment that goes beyond the sport itself. Daniel Harris, head coach of the women’s team, clarified this point. Harris stated, “The sport is one thing but the skills and technique and form and discipline help the sport transcend into life. The sport takes so much dedication that it literally comes to the points where when you finish a race you want to pass out or throw up. But you’re doing that in joy, which sounds like an oxymoron but you’re feeling joy because you known that you and your teammates gave it their all. That is where the communion and the union form.” Harris continued to talk about how the sense of community on the team creates a network of support that extends beyond the sport into each rower’s life. “Once [the girls] have a little bit of success they want more and they

want more, so I have to keep inventing new goals, new higher standards, so now I can say ‘These are attainable, do you see that this is attainable?’ You are going to think things in life are so hard, but because of what you did in this sport you are going to be like ‘I can do that, I can go get that job, I can go for the senate race, I can do something with the community, I can actually complete school and get the first degree in my family.’” Harris went on to explain that each member of the team is held responsible for their performance in the classroom just as they are held responsible for their performance on the water. Harris explained how satisfying it was to see the academic, athletic and social aspects of his rowers’ lives come together successfully. Harris stated, “When it clicks, when it clicks on the water, when it clicks on the ergometer, when it clicks in the friendships and the relationships, it’s beautiful to watch because you know it’s going to

last a lifetime.” The men and women of Beach Crew will be participating in a variety of races and scrimmages in the coming weeks and months. Events include a scrimmage against Loyola Marymount on March 20th at the Alamitos Bay Marine Stadium in Long Beach. The team will also be traveling up to Vancouver Washington to compete in the North West Collegiate Rowing Regatta (NCRC) between April 2nd through the 4th. I would urge you to make it out to a race, but if you are a freshman or a sophomore, or are attending this school and feel a lack of place or purpose I would urge you to try out Beach Crew. What I came to discover is the Beach Crew offers students fraternity and sorority in its purist form, men and women working together to become stronger mentally, emotionally and physically.



One win and we’re dancing. That’s the thought running through the heads of Doug Monson’s team and their loyal Maniacs. As Long Beach State watched the clock run out on the second-seeded Pacific Tigers season, the 49ers were mobbed by their fans after pulling off the 68-61 upset. The win sets up a final game between the 49ers and the top-seeded UC Santa Barbara Gauchos. The building was alive and rocking for Long Beach’s semifinal victory. The two teams were tied at the midway point of the first half, but the 49ers offense started to gain momentum. Long Beach went on an extended run, shooting 5-9 from long distance in the first half. The 49ers bench also outscored the Tigers 11-5 in the half to give Long Beach a 34-21 lead at the break. Pacific did not go away in the

second half. After shooting just 30 percent from the field in the first half, the Tigers offense got on a roll, led largely by the play of Joe Ford, who was getting to the basket effortlessly. The Tigers trimmed Long Beach’s lead to just three points. Pacific’s depth was coming into play as the Tigers bench took control, posting 13 points in the second half. The 49ers caught a break when Larry Anderson blocked a layup, and Pacific’s head coach Bob Thomason was called for a technical foul for disputing the call. Casper Ware went to the line, dropping in two of his ten freethrows, giving Long Beach some breathing room. Ware was not done though. In the second half, Ware poured in 15 of his career high 22 points, staving off the furious charge by Pacific. Success at the stripe helped Long Beach solve the

game away as Long Beach shot 21-29 from the freethrow line. At day’s end, the Long Beach State 49ers saw themselves one step closer to a March Madness invite. The team’s hope depends on the outcome of the final against the UCSB Gauchos. The 49ers match up well with the Gauchos. In two games this season, Long Beach defeated UCSB 67-47 at Walter Pyramid, and, they were downed by two points in the game at Santa Barbara. With a win, Long Beach would become the first team in Big West Conference history to win the Big West Tournament five times. It would also send them into the NCAA Tournament, quite an accomplishment for a team that wound up with a 15-15 record in the regular season. [Editor’s Note: The 49ers lost in the finals, but great effort everyone! Keep it real!] UNION WEEKLY

15 MARCH 2010

MUSIC HAVE ONE ON ME The new triple album from Joanna Newsom JENNY LONG CONTRIBUTOR



an I guess why you don’t like Joanna Newsom? You think she sounds like Billie Holiday if she bore a cat and taught it to sing. Oh no wait. It must be because you are so overly concerned with the aesthetic of your identity that you can’t bear to step away from the subculture you have clung onto since puberty. Or maybe you are part of that movement of one: so frustrated by the indefinite dissolution of counterculture that you have risen above all music; Hence, why you only listen to Chaka Khan and Lady Gaga “un-ironically”(ironically). Now that I have the various dissenters pinned, I’d like you all to suspend your pretensions and buy this album. With this article I hope to dismantle your hostile shell of distaste while simultaneously unburdening myself of all the words I’ve wanted to use this past week to glorify this work of musical mastery. As the album doubles Newsom’s discography, it furthermore solidifies her potency and brawn as she has now tapped the well of her artistic potential. If you have a heart you will feel something. The first of the three-disc set begins with “Easy,” as she is preparing us, “No-one knows what is coming,” lulling us, “I am easy / easy to keep / Honey, you please me / even in your sleep,” while concurrently putting us


in our place, “Who died and made you in charge / of who loves who.” At its inception, it ensnares us with the kind of string and horn orchestration that would make George Martin and the Beatles proud. From what I have gathered, the album is the synthesis of every heartbreak endured in her lifespan. It is a love song to every man, “Your eyes are green / Your hair is gold / Your hair is black / Your eyes are blue.” We could speculate that her crooning might be over Bill Callahan, Andy Samberg, or Noah Georgeson (her famously rumored beaus of the past) or she has transcended her own romantic experiences to tell an innate and prevailing tale of longing. However an impossibility, “Good Intentions Paving Company” is a seven minute pop hit. She takes metaphors that might otherwise be trite (“the road to hell is paved with good intentions”) and manipulates them with a quick-wittedness that makes it not only sweet, but universally relatable: “I fell for you, honey / easy as falling asleep.” There is a juxtaposition of the baroque sparsity seen on her premiere album, MilkEyed Mender and the sprawling epical sound of her second album, Ys. From the eleven minute title track, “Have One On Me,” to the two

minute hymnal, “On a Good Day,” she celebrates the most elemental human experiences: love and loss, death and rebirth. If you care for the romance of nostalgia, this is just that. The sixth song of her second disc “Occident,” summons the rattlings of an old woman on her deathbed mourning her life’s history, “all my life, I’ve felt as though / I’m inside a beautiful memory / replaying with the sound turned down low.” And though her voice previously conjured the familiarity of a granny singing in the kitchen, the recent shift in Newsom’s vocal finesse leaves no room for

intolerability in the prissiest of listeners. To close the album, Newsom ends not with a wimper, but a bang. The last song “Does Not Suffice,” refers back to the strongest track on the second disc, “In California,” and winds the album down with a solitary sadness and an oblivion of static. The darkness and anguish of her words should not be seen as despair but exaltation. I don’t know how she did it but somehow, in these last six years, Newsom has metamorphosed into part oracle spewing the wisdom of the ages, part precise and masterful artisan.









Originally being a Julliard trained cello player, Burt was forced to turn to the slide guitar after being struck with a combination of diabetes (“the sugars”) and rickets (“the shadies”) and was forced to perform music while lying down. He was also the first person to invent a dance for the slide guitar. It was called the “Acoustic Slide (Guitar).”

Meliboné was the first slide guitarist ever to smash his instrument after a particularly good show, beating even the great Hendrix to the punch by a good thirty years. Unfortunately the act of musical destruction was not on purpose and was the only slide guitar he owned and he soon fell in to ruin and died a pauper.

Born “Moses Coffax” to a working class Hungarian family, he practiced the slide guitar in between readings of the Torah. He was the first slide guitarist to break the color line in race-divided 1950s New York. Though it was during a concert, a gang beating claimed his life. He was a very, very awful slide guitarist.

Orenthal was the first slide guitarist to ever sell his soul to the Devil. Or a devil. As it turns out, it wasn’t the Devil himself, but actually a hog-slop salesman with a skin disorder. He died alone of mysterious circumstances on an emu farm in 1967.

No list of great slide guitarists would be complete without Khan. With a grand total of thirty-four copies of his album, “Bleeding Ulcer Blues” sold since its release in 1956, that makes him the single highest selling slide guitar act of all time and space.



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ith all the hype about Lady Gaga’s new “music” video “Telephone,” you’d think that it was written by Faulkner and directed by the corpse of Bergman. Obviously, after being bombarded with screen caps for months, when I sat down to watch it, I was expecting a fucking masterpiece. What I got, however, was a first year art school short film that had a whole lot of green behind it. It was very interesting, to say the least, but I was left wondering what the point was exactly. There was an obvious “girl power” whine throughout the entire nineand-a-half minutes, which gave it about two pads worth of depth. If the goal was

to be shocking and weird, then they didn’t get it across very well. It was out of the ordinary in a forced way, like the House of Gaga wanted to wave their freak flag as high as they possibly could so that someone—anybody—would notice. I’ve always been a fan of art that is campy, but the entire video felt like I was getting force fed a John Waters/Andy Warhol smoothie. From the “jail for bitches” and the “let’s make a sandwich” scenes, there was no clear stance behind kitsch. Even Beyonce’s role in the video was out of place. Mrs. Jay-Z is the epitome of class, so the whole kitschy thing didn’t translate for her. She was so out of place it was almost uncomfortable to

watch her. “Telephone” made a subpar attempt at being bizarre, while still being enjoyable or even interesting. The biggest issue with this video is that the product placement was so overtly apparent that I can still remember every brand that was in the video (Virgin Mobile, Miracle Whip, and Plenty of Fish). I understand that bitches gotta make money, but they should have slackened the reins a little bit and let me at least try to enjoy the video. Also, if you actually listen to the lyrics, “Telephone” is about not being able to answer your phone because you’re in a club. So, how does killing an entire restaurant of people and driving around in a Pussy Wag-

on make any sense? Basically, this video was bizarre and that’s about all there is to it. I think what Lady Gaga is doing is great. She’s different, she’s what pop music needs right now, but what she really needs is to push the limits with a strong purpose attached to it. Without it, in no time she’ll be another Debbie Gibson (for those of you who don’t remember Debbie Gibson, that’s a bad thing). In short, before you cuddle up to watch Lady Gaga’s new “music” video, make sure that you have two hits of acid, a time machine, copies of Thelma and Louise, Kill Bill, and The Green Mile. Then you may possibly be able to grasp what the fuck is going on.


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Here they are! the winners of our semi-sorta-kinda-not-really annual short story contest! There were two categories: Short fiction (700-1000 words) and flash fiction (300 words maximum). These stories represent the cream of the crop from CSULB students, or at least the cream of the crop that were sent to us over the past month or so. Judges were not aware of the contestants’ names to maintain some sort of professionalism and integrity. Congratulations to everyone who won!

AND THE WINNER IS… Capes and Robbers by Matt Dupree


ven in the flickering orange of the streetlamp, it was a cold sight. The young man, no older than nineteen, faceplanted into the pavement, his own blood spread out underneath him. It wasn’t unprecedented in New Haven to see a dead

body like this, but the tights and domino mask were certainly curious. The masked vigilantes were already a rare sight, with only a couple of confirmed busts and broken-up arms deals to their name, but the sudden arrival of a super-corpse could shake even the




15 MARCH 2010

grizzliest of grizzled beat cops. “What do they call this clown, anyway?” Detective Prentiss stepped into the light to examine the body. “Don’t know,” said the patrolman, content with staying out of the lamplight. “He’s the little one that hangs around with the Titan. Nobody’s caught his name yet as far as I got.” The appearance of codenamed vigilantes was good press for the careworn city government, which immediately embraced the phenomenon with handshakes and photo ops. A total of 10 had been spotted, but there was some suspicion that the Titan had also been the garishly dressed Blue Lightning, but had changed his costume after an unflattering photo in the newspaper caused the nickname ‘Blue Boner.’ “That’s ironic.” Det. Prentiss paused for acknowledgement. “I mean, you kinda expect these mucks to be in it for the glory and recognition. Id’ve bet 10 to one to see them on a bus ad before seeing one dead in the fucking street. I mean, if this were a comic book, this’d be plastered across the cover, ‘The Death Of Who-Gives-A-Shit.’” “They should call him the Bleeder. Look how juicy the pavement is.” “Wunderkind. He’s called the Wunderkind.” The wind carried the whispers out of the alleyway. “Alright, who said that?” The detective stood up to address the hidden speaker. “Come on out.” “HIS NAME… is… the Wunderkind!” “Well now his name’s mud, pal.” Prentiss waved off the patrolman, who left to cordon off the scene. “Why don’t you come on out and tell me what happened here.” “We found a group of gang members congregating in the alley. We engaged them, but they were heavily armed. Wunderkind sacrificed himself to save the lives of New Haven’s citizens.” “Nobody’s saving nothing around here, come off it. You wanna save a life, go to med school. This clown here—” “The Wunderkind!”

“Right. This wonder-kid here got himself killed trying to stop ONE of thousands of carjackers, pursesnatchers, and stick-up men wandering the shadows of this city just like you are now. Ain’t no saviors here.” “At least he was doing something about it, instead of waiting in his squad car to clean up the mess.” Prentiss circled around the body, slipping a digital camera out of his coat pocket. “You’re breaking my heart. Listen, shitbird, you may have the mayor fooled, but you can’t pull that shit on me. I’ve seen good cops get shot just as dead as wonder-stiff here, but at least they were professionals about it. “He snapped a photo of the victim’s face, half-flattened into the asphalt with the force of impact. “You sneak around picking fights with criminals. One day someone was going to fight back. Or did you think crimefighting was going to be easy?” “So I should just roll over while you and a thousand other brainless blueshirts suck donuts waiting for your pensions to come through?” Prentiss squatted on his haunches and snapped a picture of four spent .45 casings. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. I’ve been doing policework—you know, collecting evidence, filing reports, making arrests— long before you put on that leotard. And you know what? The city isn’t any safer now that you and the spandex patrol are around. Check the numbers. You can’t expect 12 costumed whackjobs to clean up a city of 2 million people. Hell, we had 3 robberies tonight, where were you?” “Where were the police?” Prentiss pocketed his camera and pulled his two-way from his belt. “New Haven 1137, this is Homicide 224. One DOA at Park and Barnes, request ME.” He fished around in his pocket for a cigarette. The radio chirped indistinctly. “Where were they, huh? Where?!” “Right where they always are. Wherever they’re called.”

FLASH FICTION WINNERS: 1ST. Something in the Neighborhood by James Kislingbury

“I swear to God I’ve had an assfull of these minotaurs,” he said from behind kinked blinds. They had moved in last week and ever since then it had been nothing but trouble. It wasn’t as though the minotaur family had done anything out of the ordinary, not even for this neighborhood. But he was convinced that they were up to something. He knew it in his bones. “Sometimes I wish you could hear yourself, I really do,” his wife said from behind a People magazine. He took a sip of his coffee and watched his new neighbor pace back and forth with his push lawnmower. He noticed that the hulking monstrosity had de-elevating sprinklers. How nice that must be. It was then that he thought of a good point. “We should get one of those Greek guys, you know the kind.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, you know what I mean. One of those long-haired types. Who was that one, with the bread crumbs?” “I think that was Hansel and Gretel.” “No, a Greek guy. Theodore or Theo or something like that. Come on, help me out.” She looked at a spread of unflattering bathing suits. “Honey, I have no clue what you’re babbling about.” “Don’t be like that, Ginny. Don’t you stonewall me, too.” He took another sip of coffee, but realized it was empty. He put it down on an end table, right on top of the printed face of Brad Pitt. He wished he had more coffee. The monster wiped his massive, horned head with a handkerchief. He wondered why a thing with a nose that big would need a rag that small. Whatever the reason he knew they were up to something. Of that he could be sure.


2ND. Mouths of Spring: _ _ _ _ _ _. (For David Foster Wallace) by Shouhei Tanaka

Playing hangman everyday are I and Mayfly on the porch where the bees buzz buzz and swing creak creaks and wind blow blows. Always I who is guesser and Mayfly giver, so scrawl on paper does Mayfly and scratch a chin while staring at the apple trees in thoughts is I. Here now, says Mayfly, Now this one. Quiet today is she than usual but as always call I, ‘a-e-i-o-u’, vowels Mayfly taught to I are secrets of words and right is she among other things as such why green is grass (c-h-l-o-r-o-p-h-y-l-l) or I is I (d-eo-x-y-r-i-b-o-n-u-c-l-e-i-c a-c-i-d). Study dictionaries every morning and lose before never, but wrong today is I on all vowels, and draws arms, head, legs, neck, and chest on paper does she. Has shoes, hat, suitcase, and necktie still



before the stickman dies do I not? ask I. Yes, whispers Mayfly quieter than the bees and tell me not something I see in her green eyes. Call more letters I, but draw the hat, briefcase, necktie, and shoes before I finish calling does Mayfly. Look me not and scribble scribble eyes of a dead stickman’s as ‘X’s does Mayfly. What is the word? ask I. Stops the swing and drops the pencil does Mayfly looking straight into my eyes. I do not know what, says she. Screams the wind and groans the porch, as mouths a word I hear not does she. I say is it the whispering of the porch or the muttering of clouds, Mayfly. The screaming of your dress or the humming of a heart. Tell me Mayfly, from mouths of spring a secret I know not. Is it your heart. Tell me tell me tell me.


Orange Bucket by Andy Kneis

Next stop: Termino Avenue. An older guy that looks like a grumpy doll presses the yellow strip and gets out. He walks with purpose and carries a big orange bucket. I think Teddy Roosevelt said something about that. Okay, the guy walks to the little shopping center on the corner Termino and 7th. The only places he can take his orange bucket are as follows: a dry cleaners, a pizza place, a 7-11, or a donut shop. One (you) would probably guess he’s headed to the dry cleaners, since it seems like a man with a bucket would have some sort of purpose there. You would be making the same mistake I did though. I now know to not make assumptions about a man with an orange bucket. He starts walking away from the dry cleaners at this point. Could he be headed for the 7-11? Maybe he might need the extreme boost only a large bucket full of Mountain

Dew™ could provide. You’d have to be crazy to think he’d be going to the pizza place. Around this time, the bus driver starts pulling away. Now it’s down to 7-11 and a donut shop. I’m craning my neck over the other passengers’ heads to see where Bucketman is going. I’m probably getting looks ranging from weird to dubious and any other time that would matter. The Bucketman still has no home, though. As we pull away towards Ximeno, I just barely catch Bucketman walking into the door of the donut shop without hesitation. Epilogue: Behind my apartment I saw an orange bucket a few days later. I didn’t think of checking for donuts or glaze residue or anything until just now. Oh well, there’s more than one orange bucket out there. UNION WEEKLY

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erhaps you’re like me and you have someone in your life that just can’t enjoy foreign films. You want to watch something from another country and they protest as if you are asking them to read War and Peace in two hours. Those pesky subtitles just keep on getting in the way. These people learned early on that if they didn’t want to read a book they could just watch the movie version. This is my boyfriend. A few minutes into his first foreign film and he began to ask questions. I found myself giving him a play-by-play like a book on tape until he gave up completely and fell asleep. This would normally be a deal breaker for me, but he’s good looking (so good looking that when people see a picture or meet him for the first time they automatically ask me if he treats me badly). I think we all know that when you’re dating an average to ugly person, everyone remarks on how nice that person seems even if they have never met. He’s a fine person and all, but the man simply does not like to read. At all. Therefore, I must embrace for-

eign cinema sans the subtitles. So, I have chosen to start with an Irish film in honor of Saint Patrick’s Day. The Butcher Boy (1997) is a dark comedy about a boy named Francie who is raised by an alcoholic father and a depressed mother. Inspired by his favorite television shows, Francie narrates the abuse and abandonment he suffers with unending excitement that softens and masks his trauma. His life is a series of tragedies that lead to his own mental breakdown and eventually a life in a mental hospital making baskets. He becomes a boy with a soul that is black to the core. The film cautions against the neglection of youth, showing the transformation of a boy from a small-time delinquent to a cold-blooded killer. Orphaned, beaten and molested, Francie’s story leaves you thinking that your childhood might not have been so bad after all. It is horrific, yet somehow I cheered and laughed through most of the film. The Butcher Boy offers no tricks. The film utilizes a simple cinematography and

narrative that allows you to focus on the fast-paced dialogue, which is delivered with a thick Irish lilt that can be tough to decipher. While you may not understand everything the characters say, you do have a much better chance of following along than watching something in Finnish. Set during the nuclear testing of the 1950s this humorous boyhood story is layered with strong social commentary. Francie is failed by his family, his best friend, and society. His behavior grows worse throughout the film and he is sent to various institutions that fail to reform him. Instead, they push him further from innocence into a life of crime. The director, Neil Jordan, who is best known for The Crying Game and Interview with the Vampire, generated a great uproar for casting Sinead O’Connor as the Virgin Mary that many felt disgraced the Catholic Church. Her breathtaking beauty steals your attention just in time for her to drop the F-bomb and bring her down to a common level. Whether or not you’re into child molestation, defecation, or suicide, The Butcher

Boy offers something for everyone and since there are no subtitles everyone should be able to stay awake the whole time! As for my boyfriend, if you are worried at all that he’ll read this and be offended don’t be, this column is way too long for him.



For the past couple of weeks now there’s been a flurry of downloadable content for the Xbox 360 and Playstation 3 videogame Resident Evil 5, the seventh installment of the action/horror franchise (I think the Japanese use a different, more arcane math than we do). There’re four downloads in all, including two costume packs, which unlock two characters a peice in The Mercenaries: Reunion. There’s also two hour-long extensions of the main game, Lost in Nightmares and Desperate Escape. The first chapter to be released is the unfortunately titled Lost in Nightmares. The add-on counts as a prequel to the main game, detailing Chris and Jill’s journey into, what else? A mansion chock-full of terrifying monsters. There’s very few battles to be found in Nightmares, but it makes up for quantity of monster encounters with quality. The precious few enemies you encounter are scary as hell and think very little of the bullets you throw at them. With its setting, atmosphere, and anemic ammunition counts, it plays like the best parts of UNION WEEKLY

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the older entries in the series. The only problem with the chapter is that it feels the need to cap the entire experience off with the kind of poorly conceived boss fight that defined Resident Evil 5. The second downloadable chapter is the equally poorly titled Desperate Escape, which is a straight-up battle from start to finish with nary a puzzle or encounter that can’t be solved with a shotgun blast to be found. It’s the polar opposite of Nightmares, but as long as you’ve got a co-op partner that’s worth a damn and you enjoy curb-stomping zombies, then there’s plenty of fun to be had. Like the costume packs, each downloadable chapter comes with two characters you can use in The Mercenaries: Reunion (Barry and Rebecca for Nightmares, and Josh and Excella for Escape. Inexplicably, HUNK is nowhere to be found). Reunion is the most replayable of the downloadable content, which is handy since it’s tacked onto each and every one of them. The same kind of pick up and play charm of The Mer-

cenaries is still present, but this time around it feels like Capcom actually cleaned it up a bit. The new characters all seem as though they’re an order stronger than they used to be and the addition of weaker enemies which allows for much longer killstreaks for far less effort. Both downloadable chapters have the same flaws, though, which is that neither of them offers anything new. Lost in Nightmares only rehashes the series’ old, well-traveled formula and Desperate Escape is a regurgitation of the action-packed gameplay that have defined the latter entries of the series. With the exception of a new enemy type in Nightmares, everything from the guns to the boss fight are made from recycled materials. If you enjoyed the latest installment of the Resident Evil series, you should enjoy these additions, and if you hated Resident Evil 5, then you’re going to hate them.

Then again, they’re expansions to a game and not entirely new titles in and of themselves, so it’s a bit silly to expect something entirely original (even if it took nearly a year for the chapters to come out). Hopefully, Resident Evil 6 will offer a little bit more in terms of innovation (which is to say, it will have any). At a price tag of only five dollars each, even I’m at a loss to make any serious criticisms of the chapters.

3 out of 5 Exclamation Points




esides spontaneous missile crises and floating rafts across the Gulf, Cubans are best known for their spicy attitudes, world-class cigars and amazing food. This fiery culture has been somewhat underrepresented in Long Beach until the opening of The Raven’s Nest near Bluff Park. This restaurant is the first and only featuring Cuban cuisine in a wide surrounding area, stretching until the city of Downey. This quaint, hole-in-the-wall location on Broadway and Orizaba is so rich in ambiance, culture, and food, even those most unconnected with Cuban lifestyle will understand the little piece of Havana on their plate. Dimmed lights outline the intermingled portraits of Cuban and American jazz musicians hanging above the restaurant’s patrons. A mini grand piano and elaborately

painted conga drum mounted on the walls don’t steal as much attention as the four-foot chandelier in the center of the room. Custom tablecloths and Cuban bread served in cigar boxes prove the true attention to detail placed in the atmosphere of this location. The vibe of the restaurant is romantic in a truly Cuban way, mixing passion and seduction with genuine sophistication. Guests are smitten with their dining experience before the food has even been served. The food somehow manages to exceed the high standards set by the elaborate ambiance. The Raven’s Nest features the most traditional Cuban dishes, along with some classic American choices to please the pallet of the more cautious adventurer. The fricase de pollo, a dish commonly found in the households of many Cuban Americans, adds a bit of refinement to the chicken and Cuban flavor. The traditional Cuban sandwich is a must-try, which includes the customary pork, ham, Swiss cheese, pickles, and mustard on a Cuban baguette. Each plate is served with three staples of the Cuban diet: white rice, black beans, and delicious fried plantains.

Caesar salads and a rich Vegan option for those who aren’t familiar with the island’s flavors round out the already expansive menu. Rich character and delectable dining aside, The Raven’s Next offers one of the first locations in Long Beach for Cuban Americans to meet and enjoy their shared culture. The owner of this establishment is full Cubana, and is more than happy to exchange memories and experiences with her customers. Any light eavesdropping reveals that most of the restaurant’s patrons are from the island or are highly familiar with their culture. This concentration of cultural appreciation is refreshing after such a dry spell of Cuban recognition in Long Beach. For a casual, spur-of-the-moment dinner during the week or a hot date next Friday night, The Raven’s Nest will be ready to fulfill your adventurous needs. The attentive, entertaining wait staff combined with the amorous environment and scrumptious food provide for a lovely evening on any occasion. This small establishment packs as much fire as the Cubans who eat there.


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These ghosts that haunt me possess me taunt me depress me They won’t let go of me they are inside of me reminding me replaying for me


My skeleton is their playground my skull; A haunted house

Its a scary place when savagery in the streets is nothing more than a mild entertainment. Its not desenssssssse. . . its an immunity to consequence. Rape is just a hobby, Murder’s suddenly some sort Of tradition.


Please settle your business let me go let me sleep in peace



Often, to amuse themselves, the crewmen Take albatrosses, vast birds of the seas, That follow, indolent companions in travel, The boat gliding over the acrid deeps. Hardly have they placed them on the boards, When these kings of the blue, clumsy and ashamed, Piteously let their great white wings Like oars drag along their sides.

These ghosts that haunt my dreams lull me to sleep only to terrorize me as I struggle to awake These ghosts My constant companions waiting their turn to make me one of them.

This winged traveler, now how awkward and weak! He, once so beautiful, now laughable, ugly! One pokes his beak with a short hot pipe, The other, limping, mimes the cripple who once flew! The Poet is the like of the prince of skies That haunts the storm and laughs at the archer; Exiled on the ground in the middle of the cries His wings of a giant prevent him from walking.

A message from the Creative Arts editor:




ey all you creative types! Lately, campus wide and individual furloughs have been getting most people pretty hot under the collar. And since you probably missed the budget cut protest, why not relieve some of that guilt and anger by expressing yourself? I am asking you fine people, the students, to get out there and create some art in response to the furloughs for a student run art show responding to the crisis of our education: UNION WEEKLY

15 MARCH 2010


Last week was the end of the world. People lost their minds, Kids killed one another, Mothers fucked their sons.

All of the horrible things I’ve done.

But still they spook and speak “NO. Forever you shall know The horror you have reaped.”


Submit your artwork on April 9th in FA-4 room 219 between 12 pm-5pm. We are accepting: sculpture, photography, video installation, sound, written word, performance, painting—damn near anything you can think of. Search Facebook events: The Furlough Show or e-mail ccaro@ for more information. The show will be taking place on campus April 18-22 in the student art galleries between FA-4 and FA-3.

I’ve feared the worst with beer colored glasses. The cloudy rooms about my days refuse the solace of an open window. Doors locked from the outside With a light in hand, I’m far from worry in my seat. I like the taste of cereal. Freezing cold milk over bananas. The crunch is soothing to my stomach and nostalgia. The blinds need to be open. The sun needs to fill the kitchen floor with heat. Linoleum sticking gently to the cold skin beneath my soles. I like the taste of cereal. I like the leisure of sanity.


Forgotten Fall by Jeff Chang

Garage Sketchbook by elisa

CraBBy Times by Jantzen Peake




Eating Out Pussy by Wolf vs. Bear


15 MARCH 2010


This publication is satire. We are not ASI, nor do we represent the CSULB campus. AIDS Boner. Send rags to

“He has ass acne. Crackne.”

Volume 66 Issue 7

Monday, March 15th, 2010

James Cameron Wins for Achievement in Lesbian Warlock Hair BY GAELIC FORESKYNE HOL LY WO OD, CA – Last Sunday James Cameron’s lifetime of struggle and effort finally resulted in his crowning achievement, his award for a lifetime achievement in having the hair of a lesbian warlock. It comes as a surprise to none. His producer Eleanor Q. Halfort had this to say on his award, “He’s always held his shoulder-length, grey locks up to the highest of standards. Everyone on staff at the Cameron compound is expected to add something and try to make the hair that they want to see on Jim. It’s a real collaborative effort.” James Cameron’s efforts to cultivate the finest of female sorcerer hair started in the mid ’90s, before even his colossal hit Titanic. “When I first came up with the idea of having an ashen colored mane cresting over my shoulders, the technology just didn’t exist at the time,” said Cameron from his secret, underwater fortress. “So, I put the idea in my drawer, next to my treatment for Abyss Meets the Aliens and my reboot of Piranha 2. And there it stayed while I was put into cryo-sleep for most of the aughts. When I came to, one of my three dozen step-children told me that my

James Cameron (above) showing off his newest award while dressed as the ghost of Oscar Wilde.

life-long dream of having the most embarrassing hair humanly possible could finally be accomplished.” So, after almost twenty years of dreaming and only three-quarters of a billion dollars, James Cameron was on his way to hair stardom. Other men who have striking resemblances to homely homosexual women were asked about Cameron’s hair. Sir Paul McCartney, lead singer of Wings, said, “You know, I’ve had the hair of a practical gay women for far longer than he has, but when I saw his coiffe, I thought, you know what? The time is right. I did it first, but he did it best, and I have to give him that.”

One of James Cameron’s five exwives, Kathryn Bigelow has almost always had a rocky relationship with her director ex-husband. She recently bested him in the 82nd Academy Awards for her Iraq War drama, The Hurt Locker, but she says that the two only share a friendly, professional rivalry and not a personal one. “Jim always knows what he wants and sometimes that gets in the way of relationships, but he’s an artist at heart and he loves his hair. He loves his dyke-like, wizard scalp spaghetti more than even blue people fucking with their hair. No one deserves it more than him.”


Hey, This Best Actor Thing is Pretty Groovy OP-ED BY JEFF BRIDGES, BEST ACTOR Well, I’m the best. However, the title of Best Actor doesn’t adequately describe me as an all around winner, I feel. While I am the best human actor on the Earth, my credits also include: best reporter, Jeff Bridges (above, Best Actor) takes his award and declares himself the new King Worm. cool man, and King Worm. While I was born reporter slash actor.” “Shut with most all these traits, I up,” I say. “I’ll do it.” had to earn my title as King This is getting too long, Worm. Me? My story? Well but basically I used my actit all started at the Oscars. ing to trick them, I did an Since they didn’t allow me to impression of a girl like “eeproject my acceptance speech eehhhhggghh let’s talk about into the collective uncon- a feeling,” and they thought I scious through meditation. was a lady and left me alone. I said a boring speech about Then I made up a report right bullshit and went off stage. there really quick like “Worm A mysterious wicked Invaders Surrender, Let Jeff woman that looked like Ja- Bridges Go After Giving Him mie Foxx, if Jamie Foxx had a a Ream of Really Expensive mustache and was a woman, Nice High Quality Paper and leads me through a bizarre Crown Him King Worm.” hall. There are people sitting They believed it because of down all around me and ev- my journalistic skills and now eryone is going like “aghh I have this big stack of paper. ee, yeah” as they sit down Papes. I haven’t used the pabecause they’re tired I guess. per yet but this stuff is NICE. Anyway, Jamie Foxxstache is Well, that’s my story. What’s briefing me on the situation. yours? Currently Listening “Blah blah our Worm King- To: THe_Who:Teenage_ dom is under attack buh buh Wasteland (HIGH QULITY we need the world’s best cool L@@K!!!).mp3.


Jon and Kate Sell Starter Children at a Loss Ex-TLC reality TV stars and recently divorced Jon and Kate Gosselin announced during a press conference last Tuesday that they would be selling their children on “We’re looking for the best offer on all eight. So far we have offers from a couple meat processing plants in Texas and a circus, but we’d like to let everyone know that we’re open to trade for their weight in pizza or some sweet Ed Hardy swag,” announced Jon to all perspective buyers. “My bitch of an ex-wife wants some plastic surgery to fix her rat face.” PAGE JK-8

James Brown’s Corpse Gets on the Good Foot, Rises from Grave

Late Friday night, James Brown reportedly got on his good foot and rose from the grave. According to witnesses, everyone thought [Brown] was dead, but he felt good like he knew that he would. This reporter wants to know: Why didn’t they listen before they buried him? Some have speculated that Brown just wanted out so that he could jump back and kiss himself, but he couldn’t do so in such a small space. He was seen wondering the streets singing, “It’s a dead man’s, man’s, man’s world.” PAGE SM1

Half Black Whale Kills Another Innocent White Girl



Short Story Contest, Long Beach Crew

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