67.05

ISSUE 67.05 KEVIN O’BRIEN Editor-in-Chief

ANDY KNEIS

Managing Editor

CLAY COOPER

Managing Editor

CHELSEA STEVENS Opinions Editor

NOAH KELLY

Campus Director

KATY PARKER Literature Editor

clay.union@gmail.com chelsea.union@gmail.com noah.union@gmail.com katy.union@gmail.com marcob.union@gmail.com

SIMONE HARRISON

simone.union@gmail.com

Music Editor & PR

CHRIS FABELA

Comics Editor

A LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

andyk.union@gmail.com

MARCO BELTRAN

Entertainment Editor & PR

KEVIN-SENT

kevinob.union@gmail.com

cfab.union@gmail.com

MICHAEL MERMELSTEIN merm.union@gmail.com Culture Editor

JEFF BRIDGES

jeffbridges.grun@gmail.com

CLAY COOPER

clay.union@gmail.com

Actor, Grunion Editor Art Director/Cover

JEFF CHANG

Head Illustrator/Cover

jeff.chang.art@gmail.com

CHRIS FABELA

On-Campus Distribution

KEVIN O’BRIEN

ANDY KNEIS Web Editor

MARCO BELTRAN

Advertising Executive

T

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

marcob.union@gmail.com

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

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

All letters to the editor will be considered for publication.

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

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

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

Questions? Comments?

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his week we hosted the first annual Union Weekly Gauntlet. It was a contest of strength, endurance, speed, creativity, memorizing and pissing. The pissing is what sold everyone on the idea.

The Union Weekly was divided into two teams, Editors vs. Staffers, and while you’ll have to turn to page eight to find out who won what, I am proud to announce now that I, Kevin O’Brien, totally dominated the pissing challenge.

It was no contest, my piss reigned supreme. My co-workers were filled with disappointment as they heard my victorious exclamations as I filled my piss bottle to the brim and then continued to pee into the toilet. “It’s happening,” I said. The flow was so great I had to reassure myself, “OK Kevin, don’t piss on your hands, do not piss on your hands.”

Of course, I opened my stall holding a bottle brimming with my warm, healthy, light-yellow urine to cheers and applause, while my competitors produced bottles spattered with thick, dark-yellow urine.

Originally the pissing portion of the competition was going to be excluded from The Gauntlet due the fact that Subway was supposed to sponsor the event.

With the financial backing of Subway, The Gauntlet would have become the Subway Gauntlet and the events would have all become Subway related. The Weight Toss would have become the Hoagie Heave and the Wall Sit would have become the Subway Sit. However,

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CONNOR O’BRIEN UNION STAFFER

Subway told us to fuck off. We did fuck off, but out of spite we kept the poem challenge Subway-oriented and for the most part negative and resentful. Below is some of the best sandwich-related poetry you can find anywhere and it was all produced by the Union Weekly and in spite of the Subway franchise.

The runners up: Boy, I love Subway.

When I eat Subway I barf.

Refrigerator.

I hate ordering.

They’re mean bitches who always forget my pickles!!!

Honey oat tuna, breakfast noon and dinner.

Sorry for the pooper.

Chicken bacon ranch, you give me terrible gas.

I love you, sue me.

Please kiss me sandwich.

You are my only lover.

Please kiss me sandwich.

I like when you touch my meat with your soft gloved hand.

Cover it with dressing.

Subway you are lame.

Avocado and cheeses, I won’t eat you again.

Subway is the best for eating on all campuses.

Shit yourself and die.

I like Subway so I eat it all the time and just kidding that’s gross.

Fuck you Mr. Sub, you’re way too expensive man!

I still need to eat.

Seven grams of fat or less, if you are into mediocre subs.

And the winner is: Think about it y’all.

Look at their egg sandwiches, that shit is fucked up.

Chris Fabela (Comics Editor) Congratulations.

Ask Away!

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

Get me my Subway.

Thanks for this great sandwich.

Veggie Delight, yeah!

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27 SEPTEMBER 2010

Illustration

OPINIONS EDITOR

CHELSEA STEVENS

OPINIONS

COLLEGE COMPLAINTS STUDENTS’ WORST CAMPUS PET PEEVES PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN STEPHANIE PEREZ UNION STAFFER

W

e all have at least one jerk in our class who won’t shut up. If you don’t, then you’re probably the jerk I’m talking about. I am so tired of going to a lecture, and having the same person answer all the questions. These are the people that jump the gun and don’t allow anyone else to raise their hand. These are also the people that raise their hands to share a life experience that isn’t remotely related to the topic. Hey, guess what? No one cares where you’re from or what happened to your aunt.

There’s this thing called office hours! That is the time to ask your nonsense questions!

Now, I might be coming off as harsh, but I really don’t care. These people have no

consideration for their classmates. Other people would like to answer questions occasionally, and hey, did you ever consider that the professor is trying to get you to think about a concept? Maybe he isn’t looking for a specific answer. You can even tell when the professor is fed up with you, he looks around the classroom hoping someone else raises their hand, to hear another voice for once because your persistent ass won’t quit. Why do you raise your hand so much? Do you think you are smarter than the rest of the class? Because it’s pretty obvious you want everyone to know that you know the answers.

So I ask you try something out this week,

try NOT raising your hand. At all. I don’t care if you know the answer and you are dying to raise your hand. You will be amazed that your classmates aren’t complete idiots, that they will answer questions giving everyone different perspectives and ultimately benefiting the class discussion.

I don’t pay to go to CSULB to hear your opinion, family stories, or whatever it is you feel the need to share with the class. In fact, I would be okay with you wasting my class time if you paid me ten dollars every time you raised your hand. I would have at least $100 after each lecture. Unless you’re willing to pay me for wasting my time, and everyone else’s, stop asking questions and

shut up for once. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who the professor is. I think you talk more than the professor does as if you wrote the book he is lecturing out of. If you truly feel that you have nothing to gain from the class because you know everything, drop it. Save us all from your annoying questions, and just drop the class. You already think you are the smartest person in the room. And just so you know, the whole class is sick of you. Everyone looks at you in annoyance and frustration. We are all thinking it, but no one wants to tell you anything. So I’m speaking on behalf of your classmates, shut the fuck up.

actually eat the chips, look the fuck out.

Taking the chip out of the bag with expert care, they raise it to their mouths without looking away from the professor (so it looks like they’re not even eating at all!!!), and slowly munch down as if they’d just gotten out of a fucking coma and can’t remember how to eat. Once the first few crunches are made, they then feel it’s safe to chew at a normal pace. Sure tricked me! I thought a ghost had queefed or something, that was so quiet.

Let me put it to you this way. If I had to get stabbed in the asshole, I’d want to get it over with quickly. I wouldn’t want the stabber to try and sneak it inside me without me noticing, making it hurt for a much longer period of time. Then again, I wouldn’t want to be ass-stabbed to begin with.

Oh, and to the guy who eats apples in class? Go fuck y’self. Salad eaters? Seriously? A full-on salad in class? Who are these people, Communications majors?

LOUD NOISES BEN CAHN CONTRIBUTOR

Nothing makes me purse my face-pussy more than the sound of someone eating chips or apples in class like it was their birthday. Two of the crunchiest, loudest, most annoying foods to eat in general— and you’re eating them in class? While I’m trying to pay attention to a lecture, all I can focus on is your obnoxious mastication and how I wish I could just pull down your pants and push you over. How embarrassing that would be for you.

Some people try to be stealthy about

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27 SEPTEMBER 2010

their chip eating. They’ll take the bag out as slowly as possible. Then, they’ll everso-delicately try to open the bag without causing a stir. “Crrrrrrrrinkleeeeee...... ssshhhhhheeeeaaaaa,” that’s how you spell the sounds of a bag being opened about as fast as it takes the U.S. Postal Service to deliver my birthday card from Grandma.

Just kiddin’ guys! You’re doin’ a great job.

Anyway, I hate the slow bag openers. You’re not fucking tricking anyone.

Then when these same people try to

OPINIONS

I DON’T WANT YOUR HANDOUTS MICHAEL TAYLOR CONTRIBUTOR

I don’t want your flyer. I don’t want to sign your stupid petition. I don’t want to attend your lame event, so stop hassling me. I’m definitely not going to register to vote just so I can sign your petition, which is worded differently than the way you try to explain it to everybody and ultimately worthless.

If I wanted to vote like it actually made a difference, like I was really disillusioned enough to think that I could be a catalyst for change, then I would have registered the day I turned 18. There would have been an issue that really hit home and I was so passionate about it that I couldn’t wait to fill out a ballot. Or maybe it was a general interest in politics, a sense of patriotism, and a belief in democracy. The

one thing that doesn’t make me register to vote is some yokel telling me to register so I can sign his important petitions. Fuck you, dude. I don’t care. I don’t care about your bullshit politics and some idiot fat cat sending his intern to order a bunch of lobbyists to fill out some mailing list or whatever it is to build a new roundabout in Long Beach. Yay! Just what we’ve always needed: more roundabouts with yield signs instead of stop signs. Next we’ll make it so all the stoplights are yellow at all times.

These roundabouts (have you drove down Ximeno lately?) are more worthless than a monk’s dick.

“Hey buddy, you want to try Panama Joe’s?” asks the tool wearing a bright yellow shirt and a pair of white and green

Adidas. Accompanied by an unattractive female in short shorts and a low-cut top, he asks everyone else sitting in the same area as me after I declined, trying to hand out promotional flyers. You know what, this actually sounds like a lot of fun. I can go hang with some really cool people like these two? I get to wait too long in line to go into a crowded bar with top 40 music and the coolest people in Long Beach tonight? I’d better call up my dude-bros and tell them to grease up their nautical star tattoos and we are there. I’m so stoked; this is going to be the greatest night ever.

There are a ton of people who don’t attend school here that come around just to pass out different things from flyers to opinions. While it can be fun to debate

politics with the guy trying to get people to sign petitions and make him look like a complete idiot, sometimes I’m actually attempting to make it to class on time.

While it’s great that those Dana K flyers tell me I can get my textbooks cheaper, if I wanted to get them I would have already bought them from the bookstore, Aida’s, or some cheap online source. I’m not going to hold out until the fourth week of school just so I can save a few of those precious Sacajawea dollars I’m holding in my pocket. Even with my head ducked down and my headphones killing my eardrums at incredibly loud volume, these slapdicks still try to bother me and everyone else on campus.

RANDOM RANTS MARCO BELTRAN

STEPHANIE HERNANDEZ

ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR

I hate people talking on the phone while taking a shit. It’s gross. No one wants to hear, “I love you too,” a splashing sound, followed by “what sound?” I just took the time to place six of those tissue things and maneuver my balls around the porcelain mouth so that they don’t touch the rim of the bowl as I take an emergency dump on a toilet that I can only imagine is covered in semen and blood, and I have to listen to

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some guy in the stall next to mine grunt through a conversation with his girlfriend every time shit passes out his anus. If someone I knew called me while he/she was taking the best dump of their life and called to tell me about it I would spread small flakes of dry shit on every surface of their house and burn all their baby pictures. DON’T SHIT TEXT EITHER. I will find you and ruin your life.

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OPINIONS EDITOR

school to the other. The assholes on those fucking motorized carts are no help, either.

They just stare me down as they cruise past, laughing in my face while I cry and nurse my cramping calves from trekking up those fucking two-foot-long stairs through the USU. I’m either going to start paying those guys to give me a lift or resort to becoming a scooter kid with a rolly backpack.

Hey! Freshman! Fuckin’ listen up. I’m a freshman, too, and I have a problem with you and your lack of end-of-class etiquette.

Just because class ends at 2 doesn’t mean at 1:55 you can start packing up your crap.

The least you can do is show some respect for the overly intelligent prick who’s been lecturing in front of you for the last couple of weeks. This isn’t friggin’ high school

where a bell’s going to ring and you can immediately dip out to the lunch tables to share spit with your “significant other.” Wait until the professor dismisses you, then put your stuff away. At that point, feel free to go trade saliva and such, if that’s what you’re into. But you really shouldn’t because it’s kind of disgusting to do that in public and also you’re in college now.

FELIX CRUZ

COLLEN BROWN

CONTRIBUTOR

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There’s a secret society on campus. I’m not kidding, man. I have a habit of power walking to all of my classes, and it is on these walks that I discovered the Secret Society for Making People Late to Class by Walking as Slow as We Can in Front of Them and Then We Giggle Afterwards, or the S.S.M.P. L.C.W.S.W.C.F.T.T.W.G.A. for short.

I usually get to school with just enough

now there are two bozos in my way. I can’t walk around them or through them. This usually leads to some tailgating until they get the hint. Move, you space hoggers.

The universal rule should be that you’re only allowed to hold another person’s hand if you’re saving them from falling off a cliff. This repulsive behavior makes a part of me die a little every day that’s how repulsive it is, yuck!

STEVE BESSETTE

CHELSEA STEVENS This campus is pretty cool for a CSU, I have to admit. We have pretty trees and a pretty student union and a big, pretty, blue pyramid. But seriously, this place is too fucking big. As an English and Music major, the entirety of my classes are either in the LA buildings or the music department, and I swear I walk farther than Jesus in the desert every time I have to get from one side of the

Nothing is more disturbing than having two people hold hands around campus. Fact is hands hold more bacteria than any other part of the body, and most of it is fecal bacteria, eek! The worst part of it all is that these lovebirds tend to take up too much space when they’re walking.

These people are under the influence of love and this makes them walk even slower. Thing is I’m always late as it is and

time to make it to my 8am class, and this is when they like to strike. I turn a corner and there they are, already setting foot into my path, ready to bitch slap me with a dastardly lack of motion. And these members are so trained that they act like they don’t even see me behind them. Join D.I.C.K.W.A.D. (Department of Ingenious Classmates Killing slow Walkers, Anteater, Detergent.)

I hate awkward experiences. I hate it when I am coming down from the fifth floor of the library to the first and someone takes the elevator with me. We both shuffle inside the elevator and quickly turn around to press the floor number we want to go to.

And the person who is on the elevator with you never says anything.

Excuse me buddy, but if I pressed the triangle down button and you are coming on the same elevator with me you better ask me how my day is going. Strike up a conversation, goddamnit! Can’t you see I don’t have any friends and I am in dire need of human interaction! Don’t play hard to get!

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5

CAMPUS

MIXING STUDENTS & FACULTY NO CHASER

COLLEEN BROWN

FAT GUY AT THE REC CENTER MIKE PALLOTTA

UNION STAFFER

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A

s the College of Liberal Arts is the largest college on campus, the College of Liberal Arts Student Council aims to represent the voices of students within the college and help them get more involved at CSULB. This Tuesday, September 28th, the CLASC will be holding a student and faculty mixer in the Soroptimist House near the nursing building.

At this luau-themed event the almost 10,000 students in the COLA are able to learn about the various organizations they can become a part of.

Representatives from different groups will be there to answer your questions and explain exactly what they do for you, as well as present opportunities to get involved with them. There will also be information on a wide variety of majors and minors the college has to offer. With 67 different options, there is a host of areas to explore that may interest you.

The student-faculty mixer will also have… students and faculty. This is a great opportunity to meet other students in the College of Liberal Arts with similar interests to yours, as well as people to discuss other major and minor options you might be considering.

Some professors are already bringing their classes in a group, so you may be going on a surprise fieldtrip. It is also extremely helpful to have some of the faculty there as well. You can meet the professors in your particular department and get a preview of which classes you will want to take (or not take, for that matter) and get connected with the staff.

If you plan on going to grad school this can be particularly beneficial because you are almost certainly going to need letters of recommendation.

In addition to all the information that will be presented, there will be entertainment provided and free food and

beverages. Everything will take place from 3-5pm with a student council meeting immediately following it that everyone is welcome to join.

If your major falls into the Liberal Arts category, take advantage of this occasion to connect with your campus and get valuable information that may help guide your future.

LIBERAL ARTS MIXER WHEN: TUESDAY 28 3-5pm WHERE: SOROPTIMIST HOUSE WHY: FREE FOOD AND NEW FRIENDS

BUDGET LOOKING UP

REGISTRATION FOR SPRING SEMESTER FINALLY BACK MARY FUHRMAN CONTRIBUTOR

Budgets, regrettably, rule the average student’s college life, yet, the colleges themselves aren’t that much different. They too must succumb to a budget like the rest of us. For the CSU system, it’s a state budget they must adhere to and for the past two years the numbers have been dwindling, resulting in employee loss and the cutting of classes and student services.

However, due to the America Recovery and Reinvestment Act (ARRA), the numbers are once again rising—the CSU system is receiving $106 million to begin to recover what the past budget cuts have taken away.

“In turn, the CSU will use monies from state support and student fee revenues previously set aside for payroll to admit a limited number of new students and restore courses that were previously cut due to budget reductions,” says Eric Fallis, the media representative for the CSU system.

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This spring, it is estimated that 10,000 out of the 41,000 applicants will be accepted for the semester and 3,000 course sections will be restored for the winter and spring semesters.

Campus operations, such as library hours for example, will be restored to what they were before the cuts; student services will also be improved by increasing advisement, health centers and learning centers. “Each campus will receive funding in proportion to the amount of cuts sustained over the last two years,” says Fallis.

The system is getting this money, as said earlier, due to the ARRA, also called The Recovery Act of 2009. According the Recovery Act bill, the ARRA was created to produce more job opportunities, further economic growth, and foster accountability in government spending. The act increased educational funds, on a national level, by $224 billion, however, on a

more state by state level, the State Fiscal Stabilization Fund (SFSF) was created from the Recovery Act. The SFSF was formed on the basis that state governors use the money given in order to improve education, both elementary and secondary.

On September 16th, the SFSF gave a final round of funds to the CSU system: “The federal Department of Education recently approved California’s application for the final installment of SFSF monies. Under the federal formula, the CSU receives a final installment of $106 million. On August 31st, the legislature passed AB 185 to appropriate the $106 million to the university.

The bill was signed by Lt. Gov. Abel Maldonado, who was acting governor while Gov. Schwarzenegger was out of state,” explains Fallis.

This new money means the CSU system can finally start breaking its way out of budget cuts.

Illustration

LISA VAN WIJK CONTRIBUTOR

There’s a little bastard inside my head. He can’t stand exercising. He spends the entire time whining and complaining that I’m actually not doing anything—just shoving marbled muscle and fat around until I’m in pain.

The little bastard is the one giving me suggestions like, “What are you doing working out when you can go home and read Spider-Man comics,” or, “Hey, isn’t The Town out in theaters!?

Looks like a pretty good movie…” And then I do anything else besides exercise until I find myself at a bar. I’m talking to a pretty girl for about a half hour or so and I ask for her number. Then she politely recites nine digits that aren’t hers and goes back to her friends. Walking home, I move onto the curb or even into the street to make way for the locked arms of a laughing couple but I’m too lost in the idea, “Maybe she just wanted a friend to talk to for a while.” I hate working out but not nearly as much as I hate these moments.

Often, I make compromises. I’ve always loved “swimming,” and that’s an exercise isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever properly swam in a pool, I just “swim”—I move my limbs and push my weight around, exerting far too much energy, keeping my body afloat. Then I go wallow in the shallow end, sure that I’ve worked out some part of my body. I never piss in the pool because I already feel horrible enough about everyone else wading through my sweat. Swimming is always a choice between revealing my hairy, retired linebacker frame or being the ashamed shell-of-a-man wearing a t-shirt in the pool—a man far more sad than any misunderstood sea creature. I usually opt for neither.

So for my first week at the Rec Center I stick to something easy. I pedal my legs for a while on a sit-down stationary bike. I’m going to wait another week until I embarrass myself on a treadmill near you. Surrounded by pretty people, I take solace in the fact that some short blonde has just as much back sweat as I do, the only difference is she actually did something of worth with her time while I lightly pedaled for 40 minutes on a sit-down bicycle machine and watched the news on KTLA. Short blondes and I have other things in common, like our shapely legs. My legs are the strongest part of my body, not because I work them out but because they have to carry around large heaps of shit on top of them. They’ve taken the brunt of my weight since I gained it and they’ve done it well. The little bastard can’t stand that my legs are so strong though. It wants me to cuddle up with it and a plate of bagel bites, sinking into a beanbag of apathy for the foreseeable future. But the future is here. The future is the Rec Center.

I’ve embraced the Rec Center. And by doing so I’m going to kill that goddamned little bastard that hates exercising so much.

CAMPUS

Yes, the blood drive is back! If you’re 17 years or older, weigh at least 110 pounds, and haven’t gotten a tattoo within the last 12 months, you’re eligible to donate. Monday, September 27th and Tuesday, September 28th, the Associated LUCY NGUYEN Students, Inc. will be ASI VICE PRESIDENT hosting a blood drive in the USU Ballrooms from 10:30 am - 5:30 pm. All donations will go to patients at the Long Beach Memorial Medical Center and Miller’s Children Hospital from people like you. The need for blood is constant.

Every two seconds, someone is in need of a blood transfusion and less than 38% of the U.S. population is eligible to donate. Last fall ASI received a generous record breaking number of donations from the CSULB campus: 345 pints!

(That’s 1,000+ lives saved!)

First time donating? Not to worry. A small army of volunteers will be present to assist you in the relatively simple process. First, you will be handed a clipboard and asked to fill out some information and then a friendly nurse will then ask you a series of confidential questions to review your health history and take a sample of your blood. Once you’re cleared to donate, the actual donation process begins. A quick pinch in your arm will signal that a sterile needle has been inserted in your vein. What is a little pinch compared to the instant feeling of gratification that you have made a difference in people’s lives?

Many students feel the same way. Anthony Lopez, a senior majoring in Communications, says, “Giving blood is an opportunity to give a little of yourself without putting in a lot of effort. It’s an easy way to give back to your community.” ASI Community Service Commissioner Brett Wantanabe says that the goal for the blood drive is to not only to get as many donations as possible, but to encourage those who have never donated to take the leap and become loyal donors. According to the American Red Cross, 31% of those who donate are first-time donors.

The whole process lasts about an hour, with the actual donation taking 8–10 minutes. Remember to eat a nutritious meal, drink plenty of water, and bring a valid photo ID before donating. Encourage your friends to come! Also as a token of appreciation, there will be free t-shirts and Aquarium of the Pacific tickets available while supplies last.

LEE DEFENDS SOME “GURL.”

LB WINS IN THREE LONG BEACH ENDS TITANS’ TIRADE RICHARD LEVINSON CONTRIBUTOR

Caitlin Ledoux tallied her 1,000 career kill as The Beach slaughtered the scorching-hot Cal State Fullerton Titans at the Pyramid on Saturday. In the conference opener for CSULB, Dr. Ledoux Little and the gang walloped the Titans 25–16, 25–19, 25–18. The Titans (11–4, 0–1), looking for their school record eighth straight win and riding a 21 set winning streak, came into the game looking to stop a 55 match losing streak to the 49ers. Long Beach State (11–3, 1–0), who came into the game ranked 23rd in the country and picked as a favorite to win and three-peat as Big West Champions, were having none of their tomfoolery.

After recording the milestone with her first kill, Caitlin ‘Just Ledoux It,’ Michelle Osunbor, and Janisa Johnson buried the Titans with the help of a 7–0 run in the first set. After a tied game at sevens each, the aforementioned run kicked in as the Beach waltzed to a 25–16 set victory.

After bringing Fullerton back from the stratosphere they were accustomed to playing in over the last two weeks, the 49ers stomped the Titans and their adorable winning streak.

The 49ers probably felt the first set was a bit too boring, so they kept it close for dramatic effect. After enough

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tension had been risen as the score was deadlocked at 19–19, Head Coach and master of Suspense Brian Gimmillaro cried havoc and let slip the dogs of war, unleashing a 6-zilch run to another set win. After twenty-five years of action from the Long Beach sideline, it’s safe to say Mr. Gimmillaro knows how to do his job.

The third set was simply a formality. Apparently all games need to be played to the end according to the head referee who sat upon his lofty perch, dishing out infallible judgment.

The 49ers dominated the lowly Titans, who probably cried after the game and wrote in their respective diaries.

For those of you with a Women’s College Volleyball fantasy team, the following numbers might interest you.

Haleigh Hampton and Much Ledoux About Nothing tied for the team lead with nine kills apiece. Michelle Osunbor dominated with seven murders and seven blocks. Janisa Johnson had eight homicides and Sarah ‘The Santa Clause three: The Escape’ Clause chipped in three assassinations and four blocks.

Ashley Lee provided senior leadership in the smackdown.

The 49ers continue conference play next week, traveling to UC Santa Barbara and Cal Poly.

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THE GAUNTLET 2010 EDITO RS V S. STAFF SIMONE HARRISON OPINIONS EDITOR

ANDY KNEIS

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MANAGING EDITOR

I

CLAY COOPER MANAGING EDITOR

don’t know how many of you big city commuter types can relate, but this feature comes to you from a small, isolated town called Moraga in the Bay Area of northern California. Let me try to paint the picture for you. There’s cows, hills, and everyone knows everyone else’s business. You have to go two towns over just to get on a freeway, and the only social spot to hang out was the Safeway (or “Vons” if you want to be an asshole about it) parking lot ever since they demolished the bowling alley for not being handicap accessible. There, picture painted. Life was tough for me and my friends. We weren’t old enough to drive, we weren’t cool enough to have girlfriends, and we hadn’t figured out how to use alcohol yet.

For a while we’d fight boredom by pointing to a hill on the horizon and then walking there. We decided to stop after something awful happened every time we did our Point-and-Walks. Mostly to me. Just a word of warning: when you’re out in the wilderness, in an animal’s turf, they do not back down like you think they might. Wild turkeys will fly at your head with their talons outstretched, and cows will charge.

As much as I love near-death experiences miles away from the nearest accessible road, we decided we needed a new way to pass the time.

One day we found my friend’s mom’s back massager. We immediately discovered that turning it up all the way and putting it on your head felt like getting rapidly punched. We’d have contests to see who could last the longest with the punching machine. Eventually we started adding new events, and the Gauntlet was born. We competed in anything you could think of, from strength tests, to singing range, to pissing, all to see who was the ultimate competitor.

Traditionally, every match began with everyone in the group peeing.

Then, somewhere in the middle we’d have a soda chug contest, and then at the end we’d all piss into cups and compare them to see who had the most piss for the final event. At the end of the Gauntlet, we were all rewarded with the opportunity to put our piss cups in a line across a busy street and watch cars run over the cups and get piss all over their tires like idiots.

The Gauntlet is so much fun, it’s caught on in the Union office, and we decided to adapt it for the ultimate Editors vs. Staffers showdown.

Spoiler Alter: the editors literally ground the staffers’ disgusting asses into a fine paste.

We condensed the original Gauntlet’s many events into six grueling tests for the body and mind. The top competitor in each event earned a point for their team. Enough back-story, let’s go to our field reporter (me, because everyone else is a lazy piece of shit) for a rundown on the fun.

Joke Idea: “If you Gauntlet, flaunt it.”

UNION WEEKLY

27 SEPTEMBER 2010

EVENT ONE

S TRENG TH: WEIGHT T OSS For the first event, we decided to test our staff ’s ability to throw a medicine ball the farthest. We saw a lot of different techniques and a bunch of pathetic throws that flaccidly landed at the weak-ass thrower’s feet, showing how unprepared the competitors were for the ultimate challenge that lay before them.

Staffer Mike T. aka Mikey T. won the weight toss in overtime against me, earning a point for his team. The jury is still out on whether he kept his feet stationary when throwing or whether he used some kind of black magic to throw farther than me, which is specifically against the rules. A rough start for the Editors team, but the early loss was what we needed to put a fire under our balls and compete for real.

“Time to try,” I said.

E V E NT T WO

ENDURANCE: WALL SIT For the next event, we gave everyone present the ultimate endurance test; we tested their pain threshold by having them do a wall sit while holding a soda out in front of them.

Faces turned red and grimaced and butts quivered as the minutes ticked away. Staffer Leo Portugal set the time to beat at almost eight minutes.

The editors knew the time they had to surpass, and each dropped out one-by-one in a pathetic display. After only a few minutes, only one competitor remained. After a great struggle I was able to win the challenge by breaking the eight minute mark. Okay I guess technically Literature editor Katy Parker won the event, but I was able to give her strength using Huey Lewis’ Power of Love. With my love giving her strength, Katy was able to go way beyond what any other editor was able to endure and tie up the game.

E V E NT THREE

EVENT F IVE

BRAIN CAPACIT Y: MEMORIZATION In order to test the competitors’ brain power, we had them memorize as many tracks as they could from the instant classic album “From the Valley to the Stars” by the genre defying band El Perro Del Mar. The final event went into overtime, with several brains working themselves into mush to remember as many track names as they possibly could from a cursory glance at a track-list. Staffer Steve Bessette was able to secure the victory by remembering the most track names, but the joke’s on him because now his brain is full of that dumb stuff while the editors’ brains remain free to think of things like birthdays and naked ladies.

The win was in vain, since the Editors already had a commanding lead over the staffers. The final score was Editors 3, Staffers 2. The editors celebrated by coming in on Saturday and making a newspaper for 14 hours and then pissing into a cup.

EVENT SIX

SPEED: SODA CHUG Many of the staffers were dumb and didn’t listen to me when I clearly mumbled not to drink the damn sodas because they would need them for the next event. Anyone who had drank any was immediately disqualified. We lined up face-to-face and we chugged, splashing sticky, spitty soda drops in each others’ faces. Some of the more baby-like competitors complained of the carbonation. In a soda chug contest. They lost and were promptly fired.

Entertainment Editor Marco Beltran was able to win by chugging an entire can of soda in 12 seconds. The sting of a year’s worth of ridicule in the Union office made the sting of carbonation in his throat, belly, and face more like a lover’s tickle. Two points for Editors. Hell yes.

E V E NT FOUR

CR E AT I VI T Y: POE MS (S U B WAY) The Gauntlet is a test of body and mind, so we threw the competitors a curveball and had them flex their brain muscles by writing a Haiku poem about the most inspiring topic we could think of: Subway sandwiches. We received several impressive poems, poems that plumbed the depths of our psyche and shook our souls to their very core.

Others were complete piles of shit that butchered the form of a Haiku despite it being explained moments before.

Comics editor Chris Fabela was able to win with his masterful grasp of the English language. Apparently Kevin O’Brien was not impressed with my final stanza of “Shit yourself and die” that I personally tailored to his tastes. Whatever. Three points Editors.

PISS ING CONTES T Since Editor in Chief Kevin O’Brien lives his life in fear, he didn’t allow us to have a staffwide pissing contest. Instead, we had to have it among the winning team only, the Editors, to see who was the ultimate competitor with one final display of bladder strength. We all peed at the same time, and then drank a bottle of water. After an hour, we all went back to the bathroom and filled that same bottle up with our newly created piss.

As a group of us gathered in the Student Union bathroom, one voice in particular echoed across the grimy walls. It was editor-in-chief Kevin O’Brien’s voice as he shouted, “I filled it! Ohh Kevin don’t pee on your hands.” That’s right, Kevin somehow peed more than he even drank. He kept peeing more into the toilet once he filled up his bottle. You might think this was an impressive performance, but honestly I’d recommend Kevin seeing a doctor. I’d also recommend the people that drank a whole water bottle and then only got a little piss dribble after a whole hour see a physician. Where did all the piss go?

It’s in your body somewhere. Ask a doctor. Soon.

The Gauntlet was a success. The editors proved their worthiness, and they showed the staffers that they had a thing or two to learn from these titans of print. Who knows though, the Gauntlet may become a tradition, and the staffers may have a chance to redeem themselves.

It was a proud day for me and Moraga, that I was able to take a dumb game that I invented in high school because I was afraid of cows and turn it into an event enjoyed by almost two dozen people. Think you have what it takes? Come in on Fridays and show us your chops, and who knows, one day you may have the chance to piss with the best of them.

UNION WEEKLY

27 SEPTEMBER 2010

ENTERTAINMENT

FALL OF TELEVISION

SHOWS TO WATCH THIS FALL INSTEAD OF DOING HOMEWORK

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LANDON DEVAULT UNION STAFFER

he boob tube is back, ladies and gentlemen. The fall line up is here with some truly entertaining pieces of television, along with some disastrous filth to Put it kindly. Finding time to actually sit and watch some television, however, is harder and harder each year.

Which is why when you do find time, use it to watch something really good.

Jersey Shore does not count as something good. Television has an influence on people and should be used to entertain, not to lobotomize its viewers with shitty reality shows and writing skills equivalent to bloggers. Television can be an art, and doesn’t have to involve the demographic of twelve year-old boys. These shows will not only entertain you while you are try-

ing to fall asleep or looking for a lazy relaxing night, but will keep you turning in week after week.

Sundays will always be used for football, and if anyone touches the television on Saturdays I hope it is to watch Michigan destroy, the college football league.

However, what can you do during the rest of the week? While mindlessly killing time in class on Facebook, load up Hulu and give some of these shows a try. Whenever you watch TV, I hope that you would respect your own time and watch something you really like. If you don’t like the show, change the channel. If you don’t know what to watch, look up one of these shows and be amazed.

Dexter Channel: Showtime New Episodes: Sundays at 9pm Who doesn’t love darkly disturbed serial killers who only kill people he can prove has committed murder? For those of you who have access to Showtime, watching Dexter is a must. At the end of season 4’s last episode, that season’s antagonist, The Trinity Killer, killed Dexter’s wife. The new season will pick up where the last season left off; Dexter now has to juggle the job of being a single parent and deal with being investigated for the murder of his wife. If that isn’t enough, it’s been hinted that the police will discover his connection with the “Trinity Killer.” Oh shit!

The Walking Dead Channel: AMC Premiers: October 31st at 10pm

The League Channel: FX New Episodes: Thursdays at 10:30pm

The show will focus on seven people trying to find a new place to live amidst a zombie apocalypse. I know it’s a genre which has been there and done that, but hopefully it will dive into something much dark. The producers want to make each episode darker than the last. It could be like Left For Dead, it could be like 28 Days Later, or it could bring something entirely new to the genre. I LOVE zombies and I am a bit disappointed I will never be able to experience a real zombie apocalypse. Hopefully this will tide everyone over until World War Z becomes a movie or will serve as a guidebook for when the dead rise again.

The League focuses on a group of guys and the glory of their Fantasy Football League. It is witty, fun, and hilarious. This season takes the men to Vegas for their fantasy, which can only be summed up by the line “I’m inside me,” and a lovely stripper who happens to have all the inside information on sleepers and picks for the draft.

It isn’t just about the football though. It also focuses on the real human aspect of relationships, intimacy, and marriage. Episodes 1 and 2 have already aired for this season, but the best part is there is no big serious plot traveling with the series, so you can pick it up at any time. Grab a beer, your foam finger, and shut up.

Chuck Channel: NBC New Episodes: Mondays at 8pm

Mad Men Channel: AMC New Episodes: Sunday at 10pm

Geeks and Nerds unite as Chuck returns for another season. Chuck is the story of how an average guy turns into super spy, and how his real life and spy life converge into one. What makes this show so great is that guys can relate to Chuck and women just think he is flat out adorable. This season will carry over the quest of Chuck going rogue with his best friend, girlfriend, and John “Kicker of Asses” Casey. The actors are so much like the characters they portray that the chemistry is almost tangible, which is something most shows lack.

Chuck is hands down my favorite show and if it’s not for you, then fuck off.

Mad Men is actually half way through its season right now, but when talking about what shows on television to watch, you cannot leave this one out. Mad Men is by far one of the best, if not thee best, show on television right now. It follows the stoic genius of Don Draper and his life on Madison Avenue in the cutthroat world of advertisement of the 1960s. With the civil rights movement and cold war about to become serious areas of discussion, there is no doubt that much conflict and comedy is about to take place. There is a reason Mad Men keeps on winning, and people keep on watching.

UNION WEEKLY

27 SEPTEMBER 2010

ENTERTAINMENT

THE ANDERSON LIMITED WHY I LIKE THE REPETITIVE GREATNESS STEVE BASSETTE UNION STAFFER

Wes Anderson has been one of the most creative and original filmmakers of the last 20 years or so, and the floppy haired artist knows it. His writing and directing canon is actually quite minimal, which I think is both a stealthy pro and a fatal con. His films have a cookie-cutter like similarity, which is good because they’re awesome, but also bad because they’re all kind of the same. Either way, Anderson has probably been the biggest influence in terms of the kind of movies I want to make in the future.

I think one thing that can really make a film above the average is the proper use of music, and one of the greatest elements in an Anderson flick is indeed the soundtrack.

In addition to his excellent use of folky classics, his liberal use of badass rock ‘n roll paces scenes perfectly. For example, the sequence following Margot Tenenbaum’s coming of age mischief and sexual escapades set to “Judy is a Punk,” or showcasing all of Max Fischers clubs at Rushmore Academy, set to Creation’s “Making Time.”

I’ve probably watched that club montage on YouTube a hundred and it always gives me chills. It’s so electric and pitch perfect, it gives me that indescribable feeling of, “I want to do

that and give other people that feeling.”

Where things get sticky is the collection of characters. Critics have typically classified Anderson’s characters as a pack of heartless assholes, too separate from reality. I can’t say I totally disagree with them, especially in the case of ultra apathetic Steve Zissou, but I think that’s a vital taste to the W.A. brand. Usually these seemingly careless characters start in some state of crisis or emotional plateau, searching for something. Royal Tenenbaum is a sneaky bastard of a patriarch, but he just wants closure with his family. Max Fischer is a douchy

charmer, but he’s still a young, vulnerable kid.

Even if you find yourself hating the characters, you can still see somewhere in their fictional beings, they have some humanity, some more than others, which I like. Also I find I can usually relate to one of the characters or want to be their best friend, especially Adrien Brody in The Darjeeling Limited. He’s depressed and broken, but I’d definitely be his homie.

Again, his movies have carried the same feel and structure throughout the years. If I had to pinpoint one film that was chocked full of every creative, yet repetitive aspect of Wes Anderson’s films, The Darjeeling Limited is it.

Is it his masterpiece? Maybe. Is it the total epitome of his personal art? Absolutely. It’s full of slow motion shots, emotionally dormant characters, Anjelica Huston being the omnipresent female lynchpin, The Kinks, and mega deadpan dialogue; he seems to be pleasuring himself. I think this can either really bug people or keep them wishing Wes Anderson would hurry the hell up and make something else before you watch TDL for the 15th time this week.

Yeah, they get repetitive, but it’s great.

Some say they’re hollow, unrealistic, unfulfilling, slow, and a whole bunch of other negative crap. But whether you believe those

things or not, you can definitely agree, his movies are unique. Anderson’s films reestablished my passion for film when it was slowly fading a few years ago. I think his style has both consciously and subconsciously influenced part of the style I want to formulate in the future, which I’m totally okay with, no matter how much you want to punch the characters in the face for being douchebags. So thank you, Wes Anderson.

(This is the part at the end where we shake hands in very slow motion with The Rolling Stones playing in the background).

FREAKS AND GLEEKS IT’S FULL OF CLICHéS, BUT I LOVE IT Adrienne Schultz UNION STAFFER

Glee. A four-letter word that, until last year when the show entered it’s first official season, was reserved for use in Christmas songs, Disney movies, and general silliness. Now, I can’t walk through the mall without seeing a window filled with Glee merchandise based on Fox’s series. However High School Musical-esque this show may be (especially with last week’s episode featuring a lunch performance in the quad) it features music in a different light that we may not otherwise consider.

Before I acknowledge myself as a “Gleek”, I feel I should note that in its first season, I was as apprehensive as anyone who watches corny movies if only for the sake of being able to make them the subject of sarcastic jokes. But despite the cliché additions of a reincarnated Backstreet Boy with Bieber hair, and a football coach of questionable gender, I think the high

standards that the show has set for itself after the success of its first run will make it a more entertaining follow-up season with a broader appeal.

As for the musical influences that contributed to the season premiere, I see much room for improvement. How many Lady Gaga songs can they possibly feature? Fortunately, I think they have exhausted the use of her P-P-P-Pokerface and Telephone, so they can make room for the work of some truly classic artists of our generation, like Britney Spears.

Personally, I prefer their renditions of songs such as “What I Did for Love” from A Chorus Line. This occasional acknowledgement of the musical theater genre widens audiences’ perspective of classic musicals that have influenced the show.

Of course, one song per week that doesn’t classify as Top 40 doesn’t do much in terms

of exposing people to forgotten musical influences, but I think it’s a start. Despite my limited experience in following shows from the musical-comedy genre, I anticipate that this season will see plenty of music infused with comical portrayals of high school level overly dramatic situations.

In other words, Glee club will continue their battle with against various programs while the transfer student with Bieber hair hooks up with the ex-quarterback’s girlfriend, summer flings come to an end with the start of school, and the writers continue to neglect the fact that a high school is intended to be a place for academics as well as singing, dancing, sex, and conforming to status quo. I can’t help but wonder what is in store for the future of Glee and its cast comprised of actors that may be well into their thirties by the time they enter college.

UNION WEEKLY

27 SEPTEMBER 2010

MUSIC

THE COLTRANES WE SIT DOWN WITH A RISING LOCAL BAND STEVE BESSETTE

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UNION STAFFER

he Coltranes, their name taken from the saxophonist they idolize and one of Gene Hackman’s racial slurs in The Royal Tenenbaums, hastily tuned up for aggression at Long Beach’s DiPiazza’s last weekend, bearing that perfect insanity in their eyes. Even though they refuse to be placed in the “punk/hardcore” system, their sound can be cast somewhere along those lines, fueling vengeful anti-pacifism against the travesties of modern life. They look like typical suburban kids, but their mindsets belong somewhere else. Highly influenced

by Nietzsche, Camus, the disgust of false propriety, and all around misery, they try to find humor in destruction and the clean cut curses of social norms, flipping them upside down. The songs they play are filled with existential rage, void of repetitive phrases, always smoothly transitioning straight from pure fury and torrential disgust to unfiltered grit. Lead singer Walt Cassidy jived around the stage like a drunken octopus, his limbs crooning like a smooth, flickering flame.

Bassist Ernesto Aguilar, ready, steady, focused on the noise, literally cutting into his already bloody wrists with the thick nickeled strings. Drummer Otis Jennings remained cool and collected, yet still unafraid to catch us off-guard with a rhythm far from shy. After the short 15 minute downpour of youngblooded wrath, I stood in front of the eatery and venue and talked with the three about their style, their city, and their philosophies as a band.

Union Weekly: What’s it like playing in different cities, when you know without a doubt

Photos

Sherrae Adams CONTRIBUTOR

that you have virtually no fans or references?

Ernesto: Gets us nervous at times.

Otis: But once we start playing, everything goes perfectly fine.

Walt: Everything is masked by adrenaline.

Every fear, every emotion we have, eventually becomes masked by our stage presence or our energies.

UW: You guys have been doing this for a few years and you’re in your last year of high school. How are you different from another run-of-the-mill garage band?

W: I wouldn’t say that our strategies or our methods of attacking, of being in a band, are different. I think for people our age, I think we might be accentuating aspects of rock n’ roll that people aren’t really familiar with, which is blood and violence and all around destruction.

UW: How has living in a steady, conservative city like Temecula affected your music?

W: Nothing could have made us more pissed off. I think living in a conservative town and surrounded by just right-wing maniacs, [has] set off a bunch of crazy events. Living in Temecula we have this idea that we needed to do something that was going to spark some sort of really extreme radical emotion.

UW: Your lyrics tend to be very violent and angry, as expected given your style. Do you write when inspirations come naturally or do you say, “I hate enviromaniacs, let’s write a song,” as in “Recycle?”

W: I think there’s a common misconception within our music and how people perceive it.

The tone is very hostile, but the content of our

music is a lot more existential than you would think. Nowadays I think that we’ve really sat down to think about what we’re writing.

UW: Can you explain why your recently released third album (entitled Chrisbenoit after the murderous wrestler) sounds like a lower quality recording than your last two and also a different take on your own style?

W: I think within Temecula that it’s hard to find people who really understand what we’re trying to do and that there was such a misconception on those two albums. People had this idea about us and we wanted to just go in the opposite direction.

UW: Will this album be the definition of The Coltranes?

W: I’d like to say that, but The Coltranes, the idea of The Coltranes, is constantly shifting.

O: It’s always progressing.

UW: If you’re not going to classify yourself as a punk band, how would you classify yourself?

W: I think if you wanted a clear cut way of describing The Coltranes without having to include genres, I would say it’s a fucking horrible car wreck that someone’s making jokes about. The most horrific, violent mess and just kind of finding humor in it all. Because we’re not a scary band, we’re not evil, we’re just inappropriate. We’re not a punk band, we’re not a hardcore band, we’re not really anything, we’re just fucking Coltranes.

REISSUE: STATION TO STATION A LOOK BACK AT ONE OF BOWIE’S BEST ALBUMS BRIAN NEWHARD UNION STAFFER

In an illustrious career famous for funky freak-outs and constant reinvention, to have one album stand apart from the rest as particularly groundbreaking, it ain’t easy. David Bowie’s Station to Station does exactly that however. The 1976 smash splices equal parts of percussive paranoia and dance floor euphoria in an accessible fashion that only the Thin White Duke himself could pull off.

This year’s reissue edition of Station to Station delivers remastered versions of the album’s original six songs as well as a two CD recording of a 1976 live performance from the Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, New York. As great as the original album is, the live show is the real attraction to this package. With over an hour and twenty minutes of Bowie’s seventies classics (and a funked-up UNION WEEKLY

27 SEPTEMBER 2010

cover of Velvet Underground’s “Waiting for the Man”), it’s an engrossing and satisfying listen. The interplay between the Duke’s ace backing band is mesmerizing; they’re as tight as and way funkier than you’ve ever heard Bowie. The standout players are lead guitarist Stacey Heydon and drummer Dennis Davis, especially on the urgent “Panic in Detroit.” The highlight tracks from the live discs are the uber-disco “Stay,” the minimalistic groove of “Fame” and a reverb-drenched take on the Ziggy Stardust dirge, “Five Years.”

As for the studio album, its mission statement is declared on the first song, the tenminute title track. “Station to Station” opens with an ominous sonic experiment, which gives way to a creepy groove around tension-filled chords, which in turn unexpect-

edly transitions into an R&B celebration with boogie-woogie piano fills. This two-faced approach continues throughout the album, expertly balancing dark, Krautrock-inspired riffs and sunny blue-eyed soul and funk. This cocktail is brilliantly served on the robotic soul (oxymoron? not to Bowie.) cut “TVC 15” during its flawless chant-along chorus.

The classic album peaked at number three on the U.S. charts upon its original release mostly by the strength of the rock radio staple “Golden Years.” One of Bowie’s most recognizable pop songs, “Golden Years” builds upon the previous year’s “Fame” and somehow makes it even more unashamedly disco. Station to Station is infamous for being an exceedingly cocaine-fueled production.

Bowie recalls practically none of recording

the album, stating, “I know it was [made] in LA because I’ve read it was.” The lyrical themes of the album include ample Occult references, drug use and sexual conquests.

Station to Station remains so important today not only because of the fantastic songwriting it contains, but also because it serves as a remainder to today’s bands that just because you play dark and dance-y disco, it doesn’t mean you can’t be bad-ass at the same time.

LITERATURE

THE BEACH HAS POETS

IT’S OKAY IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW IT

Illustration

KATY PARKER

LITERATURE EDITOR

T

imes are tough. We’ve got to prioritize things here. Poetry?

Get rid of that. What kind of jerk can afford to be creative in this economy? That was a trick question. You can! Right here!

Much as a mother might cherish and comfort a sad, ugly, child, the Literature page welcomes your written work with open, loving arms. Featured below are poems by three student writers who stand as living proof that art isn’t quite dead and that it’s at least still twitching a little bit. Follow their lead and send your creative writing this way by emailing katy.union@gmail.com.

ALSO NOTE: Poets roaming this desolate earth in search of like-minded people should be aware of a newly-sanctioned campus group, HipPoetics. The first meeting will be held Tuesday, October 5th from 12:30PM-1:30PM in USU Room 202.

LOVE STORY JESSICA MEISELS CONTRIBUTOR

SOWING STEVE BESSETTE UNION STAFFER

“AM I TOO SMELLY?” NICOLE STREET CONTRIBUTOR

This is a love story.

It involves a girl, a serious case of writer’s block, and a magical place called Yogurtland.

There was once upon a time, when I decided this should rhyme.

It’s a tale about a girl, who can’t think of a word, so let’s go with whirl.

She was eager and open-eyed, for LA took her by surprise.

Gyms people actually use and Hollywood sets, but there was someplace she had not been yet.

She had come to find true romance, yet still nothing had made her heart dance.

She’d met boys and seen the clubs, had Jack in the Box, but it was no home pub.

Then suddenly, out the corn’ of her eye, YOGURTLAND, the locals had cried!

She ran in, and by golly they were right, so THIS was the love she had been looking for her whole life!

Mint tea, cinnamon, French Vanilla and cream!

And then there were the toppings, which had yet to be seen!

Chocolate and mango and cookies galore!

How come no one had showed her before?!

So she raised up her spoon and devoured a taste and made sure that not one drop went to waste!

The abundance of flavours swirled, soothed and sang, it was a likened to a sweet culinary gangbang.

And so it became, in this wondrous new land, the girl had decided to make a firm stand.

To devote her life to great tastes, love and laughter, and so, she and Yogurtland, lived happily ever after.

Sitting with psychology, reading with Steinbeck, gathering and treading the remains of my existence, the pressed organics of my being, the whispering doubts and cautions of my self.

I sit and heed the union of fields, the crops growing between toes push upward, straining and straggling, sideways and longways.

I capture no hearts, no smiles, I see contentment resting on the horizon.

My eyes hurt from staring.

I see effervescent spots where things once were, where love once captured, where the warmth of my insides exuded through the crackled follicles of my bland scrutinized orifice.

I see and I bleed.

Too bloody to stand.

I’ll lie here under the golden wheat and see which crop I grow into.

DON’T MISS: HipPoetics is hosting a poetry event at Viento y Agua on Thursday, September 30th from 7:30PM-9PM. Enjoy an open mic and the poetry of featured reader Patty Seyburn, CSULB professor and award-winning writer. www.vientoyaguacoffeehouse.com

The back of my middle-aged right hand presses into the curve of his underarm resting, warm, safe he asks, “Am I too smelly?”

I breathe in, facing him just inches from the source of his natural scent We are both sleepy my left hand feeling the rise and fall of the day in his chest while the rhythmic pounding of his heart slows to a calmer pace I think about his beautiful day of living I think also about the dead returned in flag draped boxes and the uniforms arriving home laundered and neatly pressed I read once how a woman buried her face in one such uniform expecting to be refilled with the scent of her fallen soldier and felt betrayed I snuggle closer attempting to weave his essence, this hour into my memory How, then, should I answer when he asks, “Am I too smelly?”

UNION WEEKLY

27 SEPTEMBER 2010

CULTURE

THE FIRST TIME I EVER...

CAR ACCIDENTS And RUN-INS WITH TEMECULA’S FINEST Steve Bessette

Illustration

UNION STAFFER

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he first time I got in a car accident was also the first time I had a run-in with a cop regarding some sticky-icky paraphernalia. First off, there were four people involved. The first was Jay, who had never inhaled the slightest whiff of marijuana in his life and allegedly didn’t count on it in the future; Carter, who smoked so much he practically aspired to be a ganja guru; and Arty, who was the ultra hipster, provider of the weed and smoking apparatus. After hanging out for a while in Arty’s disheveled house watching SNL reruns while he and Carter smoked from a groovy green paisley pipe, Jay offered to drop me off at my place. The four of us piled into Jay’s white, 15-year-old Honda, which he had named Willy. It was the perfect high school shit-mobile, but he loved that car.

It was about 9pm, raining like the apocalypse, and we were racing down one of the main roads. Music was going, Arty and Carter were baked, Jay was kind of pissed because of that, and I was just happy to be out of the house.

UNION WEEKLY

As we were driving, we saw a cop car with the lights flashing on the side of the road, talking with someone outside of their car. Jay made a quick remark, “Hey, look, cops.” Why he wanted us to see the cop, I don’t know, but what I do know is he fucked himself. I looked out the window for a split second and immediately heard wildly screeching tires, accompanied by mad inertia. I felt myself leaning forward, and it felt like time slowed down. I heard Carter give a nonchalant, “Oh, shit.” Impact.

My glasses dematerialized off of my face, I hit my head on the back of the driver’s seat, and I heard the sound of crunching metal ringing in my ears.

We all looked around at each other, shocked, silent. Willy’s front end was unrecognizably totaled. Jay unbuckled and got out, mumbling things to himself, stuttering at the driver he rear-ended, asking if he was okay, things like that. The car we rearended was some brand-spanking-new thing that didn’t have a single scratch until our impact. The cop that we had seen seconds earlier drove over to us and told us to pull into a parking

27 SEPTEMBER 2010

CHRIS FABELA COMICS EDITOR

lot across the way. Jay, shaking like a leaf, worried, furious, rambling, drove into the lot. He got out to talk to the cop. Arty looked at Carter and I, telling us that he had his pipe with him.

We had an accident, a pipe, and a cop; obviously we thought we were fucked.

Arty handed it to Carter, who shoved it as far as he could in a small opening under his seat. We sat nervously, quietly discussing what could happen if the cop searched the car and found it.

The cop never searched the car, but he did ask Jay if he had been drinking or smoking. He told the truth and said he didn’t, but when the four of us were alone again, he told us that at Arty’s house, he had thought about smoking, which would have led to a DUI for Jay and probably a search of the car. Jay’s car was never fixed, we didn’t get in trouble with the pipe, no one was sued, and no one was hurt. All in all, it was actually a pretty cool experience, given the results, but I’m thankful that things didn’t go as terrible as they could have gone, including Jay’s almost first smoking experience that could have resulted in a DUI.

POPOCALYPSE MASCOTS AND LINEAGES DEVIN O’Neill UNION STAFFER

If the Popocalypse has a mascot, it’s Lady Gaga.

And she’s been very vocal about her debts to Warhol, to Madonna, to the gays and the groupies, but she’s forgetting somebody. U2.

No, listen. If you want to talk about pure cultural overload, consumerist pastiche, and an exploration of desire and media irony all wrapped up in a bunch of pop songs, U2 delivered in the early to mid ’90s. The problem is that the mainstream forgot, or they didn’t get it in the first place.

During an easy-to-Youtube version of “Daddy’s Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car,” Bono dresses as the devil, horns and all, in a gold lamé suit. He primps backstage while he sings projected on the jumbotron, then strolls out onstage waving and smiling like a beauty queen fascist dictator. As the song’s final stretch revs up, confetti cannons shower fake money on the audience as The Edge plays on, dressed in a bright purple military uniform.

Early ’90s U2 marked the emergence of pop art into the mainstream, the suburbs, the shlockiest corners of culture, and predictably, a lot of people didn’t know it was a joke. That kind of symbolic recursion, a simulacrum of the Rock Band as an actual successful rock band, was a little much for the preirony minds of ’90s America, and U2 was never really able to shake their stateside reputation as a painfully earnest band of political balladeers. You tell people Bono has a sense of humor and these days, no one believes you.

So this Gaga thing has a lineage. What does that lineage tell us about her enterprise? Well, what do you get when you create this kind of cultural feedback?

Arguably, all U2 got was an extra-dense pop sigil. A magickal, indecipherable rune of desire-culture— since you’re replicating the very spectacle you’re commenting on, the hall of mirrors simply produces blindness, a kind of semiotic sugar-high. You become more pop than pop.

And in the process, your desire to critically examine pop areas of culture can become something else entirely. U2 was being ironic at first, and then Adam Clayton started dating Naomi Campbell. I’m not saying it means they’re insincere. I’m saying nobody really knows what it means. Especially not U2.

This is an isomorphic model of Gaga’s current artistic arc. Some people love her because they think she’s joking. Other people love her because they think she’s serious.

Some of us don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t even know.

And maybe she doesn’t care.

And maybe we don’t either.

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UNION WEEKLY

27 SEPTEMBER 2010

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All Chinese, OUT!

Volume 67 Issue 5

Classic Monday, September 27th, 2010

I’m Starting To Really Get Into Rape

BY OCTOPUS GIRL I don’t know if it was because I stared at the sun too long or because my father only loved me when I was asleep, but I’m really digging this rape thing right now.

Is that the right thing to say?

Dig? I don’t want be a little racist because the majority of rape artists out there are of Afro-American descent, so I don’t want to offend anyone.

My granny always taught me to accept the content of their character, and in this case it’s the content of their rape.

There are so many rapers out there that I don’t even know where to start. There’s that one guy that has the weird face from New York or Hawaii that raped his way to the head of a corporation. He had a TV show for a while, right?

I want to do that when I grow up. Get paid for my rapes, or should I say “fo mah rapez.”

My mom says that I shouldn’t tell anyone about what I want to do when I grow up, but I think being a serious raper, or hardcore raper, is something that every child should aspire to be.

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

Wouldn’t it be cool to wake up and just do what you love?

There are lots of child rapers getting “big” out there, so I think people should start early. They wear the coolest gold chains too!

The only thing I don’t like about some rapers is that they condone drug usage. Didn’t they listen to the people from D.A.R.E when they would come to school?

Rapers that use drugs to rape should not be allowed to do that anyway because it’s sending the wrong message to the younger kids, but I guess we all can’t be as fly as the most famous raper in the world, big Willy himself, Willard Christopher Smith.

My dream is to be able to get “jiggy” with Agent J on stage and get to meet his son where we’re both rapers trying to make it in LA, but it’s only when we decide to rape together that we become bigger than that spider robot from Wild Wild West. If you’re reading this, Mr. Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, please know that I think of you every time I let my children watch some of my rape tapes.

LBUNION.COM

New Species of Hermit Crab Goes Up Butts and Vaginas

BY JEFF BRIDGES, ACTOR Scientists from University of California at Berkeley’s College of Science have uncovered a shocking and dangerous new species of aquatic predator. Analus Hermitus, better known as the Giant Hermit Crab, has been a mostly harmless creature roaming beaches and tide pools across America until recently.

“The creature is beginning to evolve and adapt to its new surroundings,” says scientist Jacob Holbrook. “The beaches are becoming overcrowded, and the Giant Hermit Crab has begun to run out of room,” said Holbrook at a recent press conference.

This press conference was called after a slew of complaints from the community that the Giant Hermit Crab has begun to find its home in the butts and vaginas of local beachgoers. “Once it outgrows the largest shell on the beach, it has no choice but to find sanctuary of the human butt or human vagina of a visitor at the beach.” More than eight individuals were seen being carried off the beach this week, their limbs flailing as the crustacean dragged them off to an unknown destination. None of the victims have been recovered, and any attempts to infiltrate the Giant Hermit Crab commune have been met with extreme hostility from the crabs.

Dr. Holbrook discussed his theory

A rare photograph of the malicious crustacean in action, dragging a beautiful girl to her death below the sea. That’s fun to say though. Malicious crustacean malicious crustacean malicious crustacean.

for this new, dangerous behavior from the large hermit crab. “We believe that due to global warming, many of the large shelled animals that the Giant Hermit Crab uses as homes have not been getting enough sustenance to grow. Because of this, the crabs have not been able to use their shells as protection, and they have instead chosen human beings to wear as a house,” explained Dr. Holbrook. “That’s kinda neat though, if you think about it.

Their house is on their back. They’re like the tortoises of the sea. Really an outstanding animal if you ignore the whole ‘dragging people down to their

watery grave’ thing. Hello? Where’s everyone going?” said Holbrook as the audience began leaving in a huff.

Only time will tell how we will be able to defend our buttholes and vaginas from these silent body snatchers.

There have been several government agencies doing their best to manufacture weapons that can help beachgoers defend from the creatures. Until then, there are temporary butt and vagina protectors that can be applied to the vagina or butt before leaving the house. The president recommends wearing them at all times. More updates as they come.

INSIDE

Hilarious Pun Takes Olive Garden By Storm What’s the deal with Olive Garden regulars? I’ve had my fair share on the Rhode Island comedy circuit, but Olive Garden is one hum-donger. Usually after watching a few episodes of NCIS on my DVR-some (get it? It’s awesome.

Whatever.), I walk to an Olive Garden and sit right at the center table. The other night, while looking at a menu, I blurt “Endless Pasta Bowl?! That’s IMPASTABOWL!” I looked to the couples next to me, giving them a friendly smile and two thumbs up, but they just frowned. I did the same bit at another O. Garden and the staff asked me to leave. They booed and threw breadsticks at my face. It was like a greasy, garlicy stain on my pride. People just don’t know humor. page O1G

I’m Starting to Get Piss!!!

I shared a bed with my cousin the other night. He’s a known bed wetter, but I did it anyways. I’m pretty much a daredevil. I chose to play Russian roulette that night, his wiener being the revolver. I lost. I punched his balls when I woke up and he never peed again.

And neither did I. My mom wouldn’t let me. I’m not allowed anymore. The end. page P1S

Science Sez: Girls Get Pregnant From Pee page C0