Expenses paid, while you earn up to 20 credits.
5:00PM on Monday, February 24, 2014.
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 Union Weekly, not ASI or CSULB. All students Union Weekly be edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, and length. The Union Weekly letters, articles, editorials, and illustration, but must have your name and information attached for our Union Weekly assumes no responsibility, nor is it liable, for claims of its advertisers. Grievance procedures are available in the
“Can I scan a fart?” Connor O’Brien, Managing Editor
Rose Feduk, Editor-in-Chief
Marco Beltran, Managing Editor
Connor O’Brien, Managing Editor
Eric Garcia, Advertising Exec
Rose and the American Society of Iguanas Rose Feduk Editor-in-Chief
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Assistant Editor: Sam Winchester Contributors: Paula Tena, Linda Nygård, Alexis Jacob, Geno Mehalik, Soohee Han, Sophia Zarders, Wes Young, Kevin Tran, Helen Ames, Michelle Slieff.
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Howdy ho, howdy hey, pard’ners! We hope that your week went well. Most of the Union staff is still all tuckered out from the 2nd annual Lovely Jams concert that we had last Thursday. Thank you to those of you that took the time out of your day to come see all of the wonderful performers, and also thank you to all the people who were just at the Nugget anyway trying to hide their faces. Managing Editor Marco Beltran and I were the hosts of this event, and were charged with the job of keeping the crowd relatively calm and entertained while some performers took a gratuitously long time in between songs to set up their equipment. Simple banter on the topics of thanking the Nugget for hosting us, love songs, and our open meetings could only stretch so far, and as the minutes began to accumulate, we had to turn to other means to keep the ball rolling. We gave out shirts, did push ups, asked the audience math questions, facilitated impressions (including Richard Nixon and Doctor Who, the latter of whom I know nothing about) and held an open mic for people to come up and say nice things to the rest of the room. It wasn’t exactly what we planned, but judging by the fact that there were people still in the audience laughing and clapping along at the end of the night, it seemed like everyone had a good time. So thank you willing audience and excellent performers! Our winners were
as follows: third place went to Amateur Hour with “Nic Cage Match,” second place to Hannah Moroz with “Trivial,” and first place winners to Single Barrel Six with “Buried Under Stones.” But really, everyone in our eyes was equally great and we can’t wait for next year’s event. On perhaps a more mundane note, this week’s feature deals with the ASI Fee Referendum that’s become a hot topic in the past week and will continue to come up until the voting period between February 26th and 27th. You might have questions about it: What’s a referendum? Fees? What does ASI even stand for? American Society of Iguanas? All of these questions and more will be answered in the feature. Other Union-related things that we want to shout at you are to follow us on Instagram (@UnionWeekly) if you aren’t already doing that and to send us your articles! Ideas off the top of my head right now are: An in-depth analysis of your favorite Spongebob Squarepants episodes, a found poem using quotes from a celebrity (someone famously did this with Gordon Ramsay quotes from Hell’s Kitchen), or a diary of your trial-run with an unconventional instrument (think zithers, digeridoos, and something called a “fluba.”) Truly, the possibilities are endless. With that said, I bid you adieu for now and wish you a happy reading—and maybe writing?
OPEN MEETINGS EVERY TUESDAY AT 5:30PM MEET US AT OUR OFFICE IN THE BOTTOM FLOOR OF THE USU. EMAIL INFO@LBUNION.COM FOR MORE DETAILS.
My Little Gestures You Will Rise project inspires courage to reach out Sierra Patheal Campus Editor Illustration by Sophia Zarders Contributor Last month, an 11-year-old boy attempted to hang himself from his bunk bed in North Carolina. His name is Michael Morones, and according to his mother’s and stepfather’s statements in the articles surrounding the attempt, one of the central causes was the repeated, harrowing bullying he underwent at school because, amongst other things, he liked My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. He may have brain damage as a result, and his mother says it may be years before all the
around Morones, including a heartwrenching collection of artwork by the You Will Rise project, an online anti-bullying campaign (accessible at http://youwillriseproject.blogspot.com/p/ artformichael.html). Artists from across the globe have submitted paintings, drawings, short stories, and poetry, many featuring Morones and his favorite character from campaign for Morones’ medical bills has
Art is for Everyone College is about expanding your education Chrissy Bastian Athletics Editor
raised over $50,000. A tattoo artist in My Little Pony tattoos and giving the proceeds to the Morones family. The worldwide public response to the tragedy has been little less than amazing. And yet I can’t help but ask—why does it take something as heartbreaking as Morones’ attempt to bring out these gestures? I’m not saying I know what the right gestures are. There are experiences in my own life that I would rewind if I could— force myself to pick up the phone when I thought of a friend, pull myself out of a book to see what was really going on around me. But it still seems—and maybe this is the inevitable fallacy of viewing tragedy retrospectively—that there should have been something to say, do, or even draw that would have made all of those projects unnecessary. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe nothing would have broken through and changed Morones’ mind; I only know the
media coverage of the event, which means I know almost nothing about the actual circumstances of the attempt. But I have to believe that there was something that could have been done, because if I don’t believe that, then I give in to the hopelessness of the situation, and that’s something I’m not willing to do. Each of these gestures started because one person—or two, in the case of the You Will Rise project—learned of what had
When I came to this school in 2009, the idea of a four-year university meant possibilities. Now that I’m in in my senior year trying to kill last-minute units, I wanted to take advantage of those possibilities. I wanted a class that would be stimulating and intriguing without unnecessary stress, and I stumbled upon the Art 300 class. I heard the rumor that non-art majors weren’t allowed to take studio art classes (which I assumed to be the upper-level classes). But when I asked the art department what classes I could take, I found there is only one class: art history. I was shocked and disappointed. I wanted the hands-on experience! Having taken art classes in high school, I knew I had the background to handle this class. The department’s response was that I needed 12 units of art classes before I could even be considered to add the class. (How
does one get units if they aren’t allowed to even take classes? And how is it easy to take art classes at a community college, but at a big university you can’t?) The situation frustrated me, but they had let it slip that I could get in the class if I had a teacher’s signature. Challenge accepted! I eventually did get into the class, and I’m glad I pushed so hard to get in. But why is it —an art class no less?! Now let me be clear, I understand that there are impacted majors at our school, and I realize that in those situations you have
Getting involved is hard. It’s scary, and it’s strange, and sometimes it hurts. But sometimes it makes a difference, and really, that’s all we can hope for with our gestures, isn’t it? I know I wouldn’t have been the type of person to think up the “Art for Michael” project. My hope, though, is that maybe, with practice, I can become that type of person. So I’m going to try. Maybe I’ll be awkward at but I’m going to try to see the things going on
support. It didn’t have to be expensive and it didn’t have to be extravagant; it just had to be true. There’s a lesson in that.
same friends when it seems like they need it. Afraid to be pushed away, afraid to be thought strange, touchy or forward. On a logical level, I am fully aware of how ridiculous that fear is; the “Art for Michael” project goes a long way toward refuting it on an emotional level, too.
needs to be made. My challenge, to myself and to you, is to look for those gestures. They’re out there, just waiting for someone to have the courage to make them. Whether it’s a touch of the hand or a smile or pushing someone out of the street before a semi barrels through, there’s something we can do. So let’s try— because if we all try, maybe one of those gestures will break through.
talents. When did college stop being about broadening our education? Everything I’ve learned in my art class
can see that there are open seats in the class you want, why are you not allowed in? It’s one thing if you don’t meet the prerequisites; it is another to refuse just because you are not in the major. An open seat is an open seat.
when art is cut from their education. Art is just as important to adults as it is to children. We need that avenue to express ourselves. I suggest the art classes be opened up to everyone a month or week before school starts; that way, art majors still have priority. I’m not asking to exceed the capacity the classes are supposed to have (I realize those classes need to be small just for the sake of room). And I understand that upper-level art classes should be strict on who to let in because you need the background of art basics and skill to handle the coursework. But intro art classes are something everyone
solely by our major? We are complex beings
classes can be open for everyone.
Students stand by their unpopular opinions You’re a slave to slacks Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor
I wish pants had never been invented. It’s as simple as that. I don’t know how long pants have been around for, but after quickly glancing through a Wikipedia article, I found that archaeologists believe that pants may have been around since prehistoric times. Not that it supplements or damages my argument, but let’s assume that pants have been around for 25,000 years. That means, given the recent technological advancement in trouser comfortability (in which humanity is still truly lagging), there hsve been about 24, 900 years of unimaginable discomfort. Now, before I go any further, please
are they meant for athletic purposes. I am focusing solely on trousers that are forced upon people due to social conventions. Basically, shit you would wear for an interview or professional occasion. So, this excludes jeans or track/sweat pants because they allow for maximum comfort. I’m sure some of you are thinking, “This is a stupid article. Why am I humoring this pants-hater?” Maybe this whole article is stupid, but I stand by my point: pants are evil. Occasionally, I’m forced to wear these
things to certain events, and I hate how they ride up, especially due to the fact that seat. A few minutes after I sit down my pants engross my genital region, and my boys start sitting back down because I’m constrained by the fetters of fabric. Not only that, I think I look stupid when my pants are elevated and people can see my socks. Socks are distracting. And the ostentatiousness of pants makes socks more noticeable. It’s chaos down there. I understand that there are some people out there who worship pants. They probably don’t like that I’m bashing their denimed demons. Well, I do not believe there is a large population of these people. However, I still have to ask them, “Do you really enjoy wearing pants?” Is there actually a better feeling in the world than unbuckling your belt and lowering your trousers after a long, or wherever it is that you work at? Anyone who disagrees is probably lying and has psychological issues. I thank the gods every time I am liberated from my linen. Strangely enough, the undressing of my lower body
your life interesting
Now, I’m sure Instagram in itself can be used for a great purpose. It’s great for getting your footage out there, it enables creativity with a smartphone picture, it’s helpful for marketing purposes, and it’s good to know
abilities to snapshot a fucking plate of food. My other problem with Instagram is
somebody’s life. However, I feel that the real problem lies within the culture that uses it for meaningless purposes. It fosters
reality, it fucks with shit-stain pictures even
Kevin Tran Staffer
their purity with bullshit, and posting them for bullshit doggy treats. Instagram allows people to post their lives through pictures and snapshots. What this does instead is showcase how boring people’s lives really are. It has cultivated a new group of pinheads whose sole purpose in life is to record the meaningless shit in their lives in order to impress the mindless fucks who think everyday dinners are worth a thousand words. Does anyone care about your stupid pictures of In-N-Out burgers? I certainly don’t. Instead of praying over the dinner table, we’ve been seduced to the wickedness of technologies and idolize our
gives me pseudo-sexual satisfaction. I’m no Viennese psychologist, but I posit that people who wear pants or those who have learned to embrace their “pantliness” are undergoing a very mild case of Stockholm Syndrome. They have conditioned themselves to love their oppressor. The key to combating subjugation is becoming conscious of your cottony colonialization. People say I’m a prophet; others say I’m a demagogue. I don’t consider myself either. I’m just a man who has awakened and seen the true nature of things. I have no solutions; I once tried bringing mass quantities of kilts to Long Beach State, and I was persecuted by the people. That being said, I have not given up hope. All I ask is that you see the light, pull down your pants, and strut proudly in your undergarments. Let us put the dark days of pants behind us, and move forward towards a new society.
of scum and villainy for people who can’t
up to the art of photography as autotune is to the music industry. “I made my picture black and white. I’m artistic.” No, it just means not enhance a picture. Shooting RAW on a professional camera with a professional lens and tweaking the picture on Photoshop is an art in itself. It takes time, patience, and experience to make a RAW picture an outstanding work of beauty. Instagram Another way Instagram makes a shitty picture even shittier is when it crops a perfectly good widescreen shot. Because Instagram pictures are typically squares, the site appeals to the hipster crowd with its Polaroid look. I, however, have no desire
for nostalgia as opposed to substance, and when you are forced to crop a picture, you’re cropping out substance. Not to mention, our eyes are not meant to watch squares. That’s why we don’t have square televisions anymore, or squared YouTube videos. Again, to reiterate, I don’t really have a problem with Instagram itself. I might use it in the near future. However, I was never the stupid pictures of food and how people think they constitute merit. I despise the an idea that it is enhanced simply because the picture is now vintage or in black and picture is rare and scarce, and although it dawned on me that Instagram has its good as well, you certainly have to wade past a lot
Zombies at the E-Lympics Badassery, brains, and boat races on lower campus this week
Wes Young Staffer Illustration by Soohee Han Contributor
The Walking Dead
Cover & Feature Photos by Connor O’Brien Art Director
Story by Union Staff
Anytime there’s a rumor of a fee increase buzzing around campus, the same questions come up: Didn’t they just increase the fee? What’s it for this time? Why do those old bags in Brotman Hall keep taking money out of my pockets? If you’ve seen anyone wearing an “Imagine the Possibilities” shirt, noticed posters with Macklemore’s face on them, or heard the phrase “ASI Fee Referendum” anywhere on campus, it might be apparent to you that ASI is requesting a fee increase of $16 and leaving it up to the students to vote on whether or not they want to accept it. A lot of time, money and energy is being put into the referendum—which is a fancy word for a direct vote on a
on money that comes directly from students. Yes, we, the Union, have a stake in the outcome of the referendum. We are funded in part by ASI. But as
there will be gradual, yet severe, repercussions for ASI should students decide not to accept it. Richard Haller, the Executive Director of ASI, has been working for nearly 30 years with the organization. He was also a student at CSULB, but of course, back in the 1980s, tuition was a little less than $200 a semester. According to him, the cost of tuition at a UC back then is equal to how much we pay for CSULB’s tuition now. In
has provided for: Having a USU to watch movies, play pool, hang out, and eat in, participating in club sports, having recycling bins peppered around campus, and many other initiatives. Essentially, ASI has had a hand in nearly all of the extracurricular, enriching on-campus activities that make for a quintessential “college experience.” way; it’s about making sure that students are informed about the campus that they spend so much time at and what it takes to keep the programs that enrich our university thrives on the diversity that the city of Long Beach offers. In this feature is a list of questions that the average student might ask, knowing next to nothing about the referendum. Haller, John Haberstroh (ASI Student Body President), Sylvana Cicero (Assistant Director of Programs), and
website and the Cal State website. Whether you vote yes, was a lot more state support back then, [and] they were no, or don’t vote at all is entirely up to you, but as February giving the university more money than they are now...Over 26th and 27th draw closer, we only ask that you stay the last couple of decades, government support for higher informed about issues regarding the referendum and future fee increases. and the university have to become increasingly more reliant
IS THE PRICE RIGHT?
What the heck is ASI and what do they do?
$16? Thatâ€™s a weird amount.
So Macklemore is on a bunch of posters... What’s that about? I’m graduating. Bye.
When do I vote?
More information: ASI’s FAQ section for the referendum:
John and Jon Townhall meetings:
What’s in it for me?
Why should I even care?
“... the thrill of being in New York quickly changed into—the horror of being in New York.”
New York State of Mind Traveling alone is not as lonely as one may think Words and Photo by Linda Nygård Contributor
To the Desert We Go Our adventure to the Grand Canyon Alexis Jacob Contributor We switched on the GoPro for the timelapse and left the motel on a golden sunny day. After a few miles, we saw a panel where it was written that the road was closed ahead, but it looked in good condition. We thought, “Let’s try it and maybe we’ll see a detour.” But after 10 minutes, we found the road closed with barriers. Fortunately a kind worker told us that we could take a small forest road two miles ahead to cut back and join the main road. We drove back and found it. It was a really small path, not marked on the GPS and only made of dirt. However, the guy told us
When I told my friends and family that I was going to travel to New York, they had many opinions on the idea. “It’s a big city; are you sure you’ll manage?” “That is so great! You are going to have the best time there!” “You’re going alone? That’s weird…” And sure, I had my doubts too, because But I was not too bothered about that fact. So, when the plane landed in Newark airport I felt a thrill—I could see the skyscrapers through the airport windows, which is something you are not used to seeing if you’re a small-town girl like me. However, the thrill of being in New York quickly changed into—the horror of being in New York. The airport shuttle driver drove like a madman, I felt hungry and had nothing to eat, and I had no idea where in New York I was and when I would get to my hostel. After two hours of sitting in a shuttle with my catastrophic thoughts of getting lost and killed in some dark alley, I finally arrived at my hostel and went directly out to search for food. I was lucky, because I found a small pizza place close to the hostel, and I can tell you, it was the best pizza I’d had in ages.
The next few days I spent walking on the streets of New York, visiting the Empire State Building, browsing through books at St. Marc’s bookstore, checking out Times Square, listening to the blues with a friend Williamsburg, eating the best burger in New York, walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, and clapping my hands with some friends in a gospel church in Harlem. Now you may think: who are these friends I keep referring to? Well, I became acquainted with some like-minded people with whom I shared the room at my hostel and we decided to do some of the sightseeing together. So you see, when you are traveling alone, it is not as lonely as you might would think. New York is shown on TV and in opportunities, love, the latest fashions, and the biggest parties. The expectations of New York can easily grow out of proportion and become unrealistic. But I noticed that if you plan your trip ahead of time and keep an open mind, you will be able to save money and have a good time. With this in regard, I can say that my expectations of New York became reality.
that it was only threes mile long, so we took a chance with our Toyota Corolla. It was a really fun experience, lost in the middle of the wild at 20mph, with snow on the red sand and some wild horses in the background. After 20 minutes, we reached some kind of old panel full of bullets, as if someone had time for us French guys to see something related to weapons in the countryside. After another 40 minutes we arrived back at the main road with the indication we were looking for: Grand Canyon. Canyon National Park; we paid the fees, got “Desert View.” This place has a watchtower where you can get a 360-degree view. We tried to climb up without looking outside. It was hard, but when we opened our eyes at the top of the tower, it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in my life. The feeling is hard to describe because it’s something you have to experience, but when people say that it’s something you have to do during your lifetime, it can’t be more true. to visit the Navajo view point. We took a
small risk to take “the picture of the trip.” And we continued like that all day, switching sunset. We only took a small break for our picnic between the pines trees, with crows
looking at us. This décor made me think of Game of Thrones place while the moon was rising, with a head full of memories.
Going with the Flo’
Words and Photos by Geno Mehalik Staffer
On the road for 6,000 miles, a journey of a modern nomad personally, than for my life to be both a challenge and a compliment. So I took to the open road. The drive out east was marked by stops in Phoenix, Arizona (including an emergency group text to my besties asking whether, in their expert opinions, I’d die from eating a grilled cheese I left in my car overnight)
people tell you. It doesn’t matter what they might say. Sometimes you have to leave home. Sometimes, running away means you’re heading in the exact right direction.” In my 24th year, I bought a plane ticket to London and a Eurail pass that took me everywhere else: Paris, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Zurich. I tell people backpacking through Europe was the most formative experience of my entire life. Some small, memorable things from abroad: brilliant stars outside my window on an overnight train to Paris. The realization that beer is cheaper than water in Germany, and the resulting, cross-national buzz that accompanied that surprise. But most
assure you is so much more impressive than its name suggests (but 225 million year-old Triassic forests are my idea of providence); then to Albuquerque, New Mexico (where a massive snowstorm had hit, and against my mother’s wishes, I proceeded onward, despite protests from highway safety authorities) through Amarillo, Texas (where an 18-wheeler legitimately almost ended my life by merging into my lane while I drove alongside him) to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma (an entire city covered in ice like
of being stranded in a world of total happy strangers. getting lost. I’d always liked getting in my car and driving for hours. Whereas some of my friends quickly grew bored, needed endless bathroom breaks, or couldn’t stay up past 10 pm, I felt designed for it. My parents, my destination, saving time and money. After some time, though, they soon began to understand that the drive was part of the journey for me. And the journey was less without the footsteps it took for me to arrive there. How I got there became an ingredient so perfectly situated within my recipe for a valuable experience, that with its absence, there could be no heat. And I really feel like I’ve been chasing it ever since. I always had the luxury of a friend that wanted in, and I always made
sure I planned every detail: charging the trip to my American Express card, spending at least a week printing itineraries, thumbing through Moon Metro guidebooks, and even org. My trips were fast, almost foolhardily fast, and I strived for authenticity. My silent motto was; “There’s a lot of world out there. See what you can. You can come back to what you love later.” When the opportunity to drive home to Florida for the winter break presented itself, I took advantage of it. People thought I was crazy. Like Alice said, people will tell you that you’re crazy when you decide to do something big, especially if you decide to do that big thing alone. That said, a large part of growing up— 30 years—is distinguishing when and when not to listen to people who say you’re crazy. A lot of times, you should listen to your good friends, your family, your teachers, then assess the situation, and heed a little caution. In my experience, though, a lot of times when people say you’re crazy, what they really mean is, “I could never do that.” And that’s a whole other animal. To me, that’s both a challenge and a compliment. And I want nothing more,
assured me it happened every year, not to worry) through Hot Springs, Arkansas (where I realized that the birthplace of Pres. Bill Clinton, an entire town, sleepy and small, could be designated a national park) to Memphis, Tennessee (where I betrayed my personal eat local creed because I really wanted Chipotle and mostly begged rest before a too-long, 12-hour passage through Alabama) to Florida. After less than two weeks home for the holidays, though, it was time to make the trip back to my California home near the beach. This time, the route was more familiar: that 10 highway I’d navigated a couple of times previously, most notably on my about the 10, especially the 500 or so miles through Texas where you’re lucky to see a one-pump gas station. Sure, there is that here, or run out of gas, I’m done for.” But that guy, Doubt, is a ruiner of adventures, glovebox, drown him out with a Spotify playlist, or get lost in some other train of thought. Something useful. The drive back west was catalogued by stops in New Orleans, Louisiana (and a stay in “The Harem Room” of an Airbnb nestled in a really seedy, pothole-plagued neighborhood near the French Quarter) and then San Antonio, Texas (where the my third stop at a Cracker Barrel—requisite
road trip fare); forward to Roswell, New Mexico (where they take that “Alien Invasion Capital of the World” thing really seriously) and Carlsbad Caverns National Park (and the mounting realization that caverns are more than a mile below the Earth, and that freaks me out) to Tucson, Arizona (where the completion of my audiobook found me emotional and messy, trying to pull it together) before detours to White Sands National Monument (playing in snow-white dunes and pretending I had been transported to Africa) and Saguaro National Parks (two words: cactus forests), southern end of California to the 8, the 805, In my 30th year, I did something great and I did it alone. I drove 6,000 miles through 11 states and visited 5 national parks. And, what’s more, that experience was mostly silent, incredibly beautiful, and uniquely mine. In my experience, there will always be reasons to stay at home. But there’s a whole world of reasons—sunsets and mishaps, parks and realizations, cities and conquests—to be crazy and to get lost as often as you possibly can.
Behind the Scenes
Various Quentin Tarantino Films Roque Renteria Entertainment Editor
The Cornetto Trilogy Kevin Tran Staffer
I’m a film nerd. I have thousands of DVDs, and I watch a couple of them every day. Not only do I watch the movies, I also check out all the bonus features. I’m a Tarantino fan, and I have to say the man is just as interesting as his movies. For those of you who don’t know who Tarantino is, imagine that Martin Scorsese (if you don’t know who he is, I want you to stop reading immediately, Google his name, and watch his entire catalog, bonus features included.) had an illegitimate son during his coke binging in the 1970s, and that son inherited all of his father’s social skills. That, ladies and gentlemen, is Quentin Tarantino. He’s fast talking, digressive and he’s an
I put these three movies, when really, any Edgar Wright movies should be up here. What makes Edgar Wright so fascinating is really his love of doing commentaries. Each of his movies have more than one commentary. Shaun of the Dead has four commentaries, Hot Fuzz has five commentaries, and The World’s End has three commentaries to listen to. He loves to talk about his movies, the process, and the fun inside jokes he made with the cast and crew on set. Usually, the commentaries will include Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg, and a few with the cast and crew. However, the best commentary would have to be Edgar Wright’s and Quentin Tarantino’s audio track for Hot Fuzz. This commentary is fascinating for two reasons. One, Tarantino doesn’t do commentaries on his own movies; his only other commentary was for From Dusk
encyclopedia of film knowledge. With his crazy quirks, Quentin manages to make ordinarily boring bonus features into awesome events. One of the coolest bonus features on a Tarantino DVD is the trivia track in Pulp Fiction. With this feature, you can watch the movie alongside subtitles that give you information involving each particular scene. For example, every time a character is introduced, the trivia track gives you the actor’s name, short bio, and a fun fact about the scene they filmed. Did you know that Bruce Willis was not Tarantino’s first choice as Butch? Sly Stallone was once considered for the role. The trivia track is a cool way to get a leg up on the competition, and school some fools during a movie contest. Another cool part about this feature is occasionally a box will show up that will redirect to a video where Tarantino goes further in depth into a scene. Other features to explore are the interviews found in Jackie Brown. Jackie Brown has some exclusive interviews with Tarantino that provide the viewer with Tarantino’s movie playlist, and some influences for the film. In one interview, Tarantino explains how he got into Blaxploitation movies, and how his upbringing in Torrance and Los Angeles served as the canvas for his 1997 film.
You also get to hear his long-winded (yet, hilariously enjoyable) digressions about other movies that he enjoys watching. It’s entertaining to watch. The man is so meta. I doubt that there is a movie that Tarantino has not seen. Although this next feature might be cheating a bit, I have to include the “film school” feature included in Grindhouse. I consider this cheating because Robert Rodriguez does most of the commentary, but Tarantino does provide side notes. In this feature, Rodriguez gives you a mini lesson on cinematography and editing. He uses his debut film El Mariachi as the examined work. The featurette provides basic and essential information for aspiring filmmakers. Rodriguez and Tarantino teach you how to make a movie on a budget. Surprisingly, $7000 can pay for your ticket into the Sundance Film Festival. Of course, that all depends on whether or not you can make a film as good as El Mariachi. There you have it. A brief collection of some cool Tarantino features to satiate the fanboy in you. Hopefully, Tarantino’s erratic behavior will inspire you to step up your movie game and become the film buff you’ve always dreamed of becoming.
till Dawn, and he didn’t even direct that movie. Secondly, the commentary actually has nothing to do with the movie at all. Instead, the two go on a long conversation about movies in general. At times, they’ll be talking about buddy cop movies, then segue to underrated horror movies like Twisted Nerve and The Wicker Man, and movies that nobody has ever heard of before. It got to the point where Tarantino started talking about the porn versions of his own movies, like Pulp Friction and Thrill Bill. According to Reddit, the two of them talk about 190 films. That’s 1.57 movies per minute. It’s quite fun to hear Tarantino go on and on about movies with his talks that digress into obscurity. To be honest, I didn’t get what they were saying probably 70% of the time.
Overall, the commentaries are insightful because of Edgar Wright’s masterful and meticulous stories. Wright points out hidden gags and jokes that vanish in the blink of an eye. Normally, he points out normal character monologues that actually foreshadow important plot points. In his commentary for The World’s End, Wright discusses about how all twelve pubs are named after plot points; such as how the pub “The Cross Hands” is where the gang starts fighting blanks. The World’s End commentary gets more entertaining when Edgar Wright talks about the unifying themes between all three movies in the trilogy, such as main characters vs. society and running gags, which include the jumping-over-the-fence gag, the fruit machine gag, and the Cornetto gag.
Download Your Way to Memory Lane Revisiting your youthful tastes Words and Photo by Sam Winchester Assistant Editor
A couple of weeks into this spring semester, I decided I wanted to create a new playlist just for the hell of it. I had been singing “Jesus of Suburbia” in my head over and over before the semester started, and it was like middle school all over again. So, that was it, I thought. I was going to create a nostalgic playlist of my favorite songs from back in the day. I must mention that since I
seemed like my only choice, until I realized I could create playlists on Spotify. I started typing bands into the search bar; from
Floyd, from Led Zeppelin to Nirvana, and the list kept going. To be quite honest, I have not yet concluded that playlist. Every other day I remember a new song that I forgot to add before—like right now, I just remembered how awfully obsessed I was with blink-182. Sigh. I named it, “It’s only a phase, Mom,” because I remember being so eager to get each CD from my favorite bands and begging my parents for the money to buy concert tickets. My mother just rolled her eyes every time I would sneak into the
record shop in the my hometown’s mall, hoping she would let me buy the specialedition CDs with the fancy packaging. For the same reason, it was around that time classic, eight gigabyte silver brick that I bought after saving for three years. For a 13-year-old, I had a rather large amount of music, compared to my fellow classmates. It was probably due to the fact that I was introduced to LimeWire and eMule early, to illegally download whole albums absolutely free. Although, I must thank my music mentor from middle
Rewind One Last Time
school, who was my art teacher—now one of my closest friends—because without her, I might have spent a lot of money on iTunes gift cards or expensive CDs. I listen to my playlist proudly, not because I think I had the fanciest music taste in middle school, but because it reminds me of how I used to be and how I’ve changed. I opened my ears to all sorts of different genres when I started high school, and even more now that I’m in college. It’s always nice to go back and remember those awkward years and laugh a little. After all, it’s only a phase, ya know?
Michael Wood Music Editor
Old technology as a catalyst for nostalgia When you’re into music, it’s not uncommon to stumble upon artifacts of your musical past. My old Green Day t-shirt, a couple tickets to see Rush back in 2008, even a cracked NoFX CD, I see these things every once in a while and it reminds me of running into old friends. You enjoy their presence for a couple minutes, and then you move on with your life, leaving them out of it. But one musical artifact that I absolutely wanted back into my life was an old cassette tape which I found buried in a milk crate of miscellaneous junk I had been keeping in the back of my old car for a few years. I sold the car and bought another one over break, but I made sure to keep the tape by my side. The only reason I didn’t toss it was because it was Milo Goes To College by The Descendents, one of my favorite albums and my first real
introduction to punk music. I don’t tend to have a whole lot of nostalgia for particular musical platforms. When I see people my age dropping serious cash to listen to vinyl records, I can only look at them in confusion. Why would you jump on this bandwagon when it’s so expensive and it’s a medium that you likely have had little experience in and nostalgia for? But it begins to make sense to me when I think about cassette tapes and how they influenced me as a kid. My parents wisely did not trust me with CDs when I was very young. Instead of anticipating inevitable scratches and a broken CD player, they gave me a Walkman and a bunch of cassettes from a plethora of genres. Those things were absolutely indestructible. The Rolling Stones, blink-182, Earth Wind and Fire, The GoGos, hell, it was all there. But, the greatest
thing to me was engaging in a little low level piracy! My parents taught me how to use the boom box at home to record songs off of the radio and steal a little slice of pop music heaven. Suddenly, all I wanted were blank cassettes and I would pester my parents endlessly for those golden tickets towards musical freedom. So naturally, my Descendents cassette tape brought with it some nostalgia that had nothing to do with the album. I still know the album as well as I did back when I had to get up and flip cassette sides halfway through. The only difference is since I entered my teen years; I’ve been listening to my music digitally. I made the jump from Limewire to Bittorrent to Spotify, and even though I have paranoid nightmares of some Silicon Valley billionaire cruelly deleting my Spotify library just because they can, it has been massively beneficial
to me. I no longer carry around a bulky Walkman or mp3 player everywhere, I use my phone. I can show playlists to any of my friends easily, just as long as they have an internet connection, not a difficult thing to come by in this day and age. Yet, while listening to Milo Goes to College in my car cassette player (The only cassette player I could find without going out and buying one), the loud hiss and the sound of a cassette tape flipping over or going in reverse brought back so many memories. I didn’t care that I was listening to “Catalina” in a ridiculously lofi manner, I was in touch with my musical roots again. Until of course, the cassette tape broke and I threw it away in frustration. Well... that’s progress.
“It’s always nice to remember those awkward phases and laugh a little.”
Books for your Budget
Thoughts for Food
Spending a dollar makes sense
Poetry by Michelle Slieff Contributor
Helen Ames Contributor
On Thursday evening, I stopped by the One Dollar Bookstore located in the heart of downtown Long Beach on Pine Ave. The store boasts over 10,000 titles for just one dollar each. After driving around in a couple
The cooks’ paper translucent hats drip with sweat. My hands collect on the cold steel of the salad station.
the store. It is directly across from the Convention Center in Pike Place.
Tables occupied by 4, 3, 2, 1. Another order in. Candy Stripers pass out cherry sodas,
with pretty high expectations. I was excited
cavernous bellies while Pop, goes the balloon artist. A sword for the boy and a poodle for the girl, Rambo collects his rubies and moves onto the next. Another order in.
obscure books to my collection. I was not too disappointed. The second I walked in, I was dollar. Most of the titles on this table appeared to be interesting, but none were written by well-known authors, unless you count the entire Twilight
of books they carried and where they were located. The store is organized similarly like any chain bookstore such as Barnes and more sections. With a bit more searching, I print books. The most recognizable author in this display was Janet Evanovich, which I was extremely excited about. With many obscure titles and books that were published 10-20 years ago, the store has a wide variety, but not necessarily everything you are looking for. The more recent titles I found were books that were not exactly best sellers, and it would take that really piques your interest. The good news is that you could spend hours in the
their mud, cowered over the counter. They beat rhythms inside their heads. A dish breaks, while a bald man’s temper breaks, on opposite sides of the diner. No cheese please. Not today. His cheeks rush with red. Unpleased to come back, he shakes his toddler loose from a highchair. Last order up. A pair of people pick the same thing and leave without problems 20%. The drive home smells I drop rubies in my cavernous gas tank, I’m thankful the shifts are only six hours. I’m thankful that the fridge is full, the bills are paid. Gary from the counter isn’t so bad.
real gems in the process. I would highly recommend this store to anyone looking to spend a lazy afternoon browsing shelves looking for some new reading material.
Six years as a server while in a recession where the state unemployment rate is 11%.
Sustenance I am Hollandaise sauce from butter, rolling over the perfectly poached egg, its insides run from fork and knife. I can be such a ham sometimes—much too salty. I am breakfast, the start to your day. Think balanced, nutritious, and important. Add some veggies to your benedict, I am asparagus…tomato…
I am certified organic food Naturally grown Arugula! Satin white carrots are on my mind, while I crunch from the weight of what’s on top. Soledad goat cheese. Olive oil. Landjager stuffed in hog casing accented by Paprika spices. Made with the hands of Chef Yvon.
I am the unctuous mushroom pulled m the dirt finally seeing sun. I am hugged by salted butter lobster claws. Land and sea united on the plate. Mingle and vie for attention with A mirepoix of aromatics. I will leave this moment remembered. Take pleasure in the indulgences, I am the crème brûlée to your day
Getting Calmer with Charlie Palmer A taste bud oasis tucked away in South Coast Plaza Words and Photos by Paula Tena Contributor
My stomach growled as I tilted my head towards the hallway. I couldn’t tell if I was hungry or if the anticipation of yet another surprise birthday party for my cousin, Joanna, was getting to my stomach—let alone my head. I tapped the back of my heel as I scanned the elaborate and decorative establishment named Charlie Palmer. From the high ceilings to the candlelit tables, I knew this place was more than just the clean-cut attentive waiters that called me “madame.” Found on the skirt of South
Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, California, this hidden gem is named after the top chef and entrepreneur himself. The restaurant creates strictly American cuisine but with
let’s go down to Charlie Palmer for their $40 dinner for two”—it’s more than that. The birthday girl finally arrived and ordered a bottle of Pinot Gris to get the celebration going. As the adults clinked their glasses together and swished the
pale yellow liquid, I scarfed down the amuse bouche, complementary dish from the chef. The bite-size hors d’oeuvre refreshed, no, kicked the ASS, out of my McDonald’s-Dollar-Menu taste buds. Tiny bits of crab mixed with lime, cilantro, and fresh-cut tomatoes sang harmoniously in my mouth. The combination of those four simple ingredients left my taste buds cold and wet as if I was a survivor on a deserted island drinking brisk cold water for the first time in days. Up next was a faint-pink Alaskan salmon that sat on a light coat of extravirgin olive oil with a sprinkle of basil on ease, like butter. The dish melted in my the size was small indeed, I made sure that I tasted every grain of salt and pepper from this small pink wonder. Reminiscing on the two previous courses, I stared at my spotless dish, craving a new masterpiece to admire. Our waiter apologized for the slight delay and gave us pistachio-raison biscotti to munch on. While I cared less for the hard sliced bread, I needed more than what my
middle class stomach was used to. I needed a game changer. with a side of herb-roasted potatoes that were doused with watercress balsamic jam and red wine jus. Like the salmon, the steak from every corner. I paired this heavenly treat with sautéed garlic asparagus that complemented the dish impeccably. While I was coming up on the last leg of my tour le nourriture, I received a separate menu for the desserts. This was a sign from God telling me to push through. Shall I resort to my beloved creme brûlée, or do I dare say yes to the marshmallow molten cake made from chocolate ganache, marshmallows, and mint chip? No, I stuck with the house-made sorbet that was presented like racked pool balls. made its way to my heart, as did the others eventually, I lethargically leaned back on my chair, belly out, and was ready to call it a day. I set my spoon down on the table, looked up at the dimly lit chandeliers, and said, “Damn it, Charlie, you win this time.”
“The bite-size hors d’oeuvre refreshed, no, kicked the ASS, out of my McDonald’s-Dollar-Menu taste buds...”
Volume 74 Issue 5
Monday, February 17, 2014
DISCLAIMER: Hey, God Warrior Here. She’s a beast. I call her karma (come back). She eats your heart out like Jeffrey Dahmer (woo). Be careful. Try not to lead her on. Shorty’s heart is on steroids. Cause her love is so strong. Send MACarani to 1212 Bellflower Blvd Suite 239, Long Beach, CA 90815. This page is satire/parody and does not represent ASI nor the CSULB campus. In MAC’s name, I pray. Submit your garbage via email to firstname.lastname@example.org.
GERONTOLOGY LINKED GEICO GECKO FOUND TO HELL, STUDIES SHOW DEAD IN STREET FRIDAY College of Health & Human Services, Health Science Department: Discovery that the skin of humans increasingly sags over time due to the fact that they are slowly being by Adnama Senyb pulled into the underworld. The research was done after a group of students led by Professor Joaquin Staff of the Russian Studies Department observed a group of men in research consisted of constantly watching measured how much the epidermis stretches everyday as well as measured various body parts on an hourly basis. Researchers found a lead on the study when one of the participants suddenly demonic-sounding phrases. Many others followed suit. After their recoveries, Dr. Staff was able to question them and come to the conclusion that humans will eventually belong to Hell. College of the Arts, Music Department: Researchers corralled 56 students on their way to 11am classes and forced them to enter the Beach Auditorium, where they introduced a toddler in a tiara who was dressed up as Ne-Yo dressed up as a woman. The toddler proceeded to lip-synch Ne-Yo’s underground hit “Love You (’Cause You) Let Me” which was met with cat-calls, three baby diapers (one used), and one thrown milkshake. In response to surveys taken as students stormed the Beach Auditorium’s emergency exit, researchers came to the aforementioned conclusion that “NeYo is nobody’s favorite singer.” A formal research paper will be published with the Journal of Dubcon Music Studies next month.
College of Business, Information Systems Department: Earth’s moon slotted to replace Pluto as solar system’s ninth planet. Professor Bibly O’File was reading Goodnight, Moon to her daughter when she realized that Pluto was jettisoned because it was not a common topic of discussion in human conversations. “People designate power titles according to the relative placement of things within their worldviews,” she explained. Professor O’File collected the electronic versions of the top 10,000 most popular books from the last 100 years, then counted the number of times each member of the solar system was referenced. She found that all of the planets lined up properly with their supposed positions in the universe. Pluto’s popularity was drastically decreasing at the time of its demotion, and as mentions of the moon have recently surpassed Pluto’s peak, Professor O’File expects the natural satellite’s planetary promotion to occur within the decade. (The only outlier was the Earth, with 1,067 more mentions than the sun. Professor O’File is not certain whether to theorize that, based on in the next couple of months. She says to of the universe seems inevitable.) College of the Arts, Religious Studies Department: Based on observation and behavioral studies, Professor Lauss Yerkeys and his assistants have come to the conclusion that Pope Francis is extremely “dope”; he is soon to be called “Dope Francis.” However, no conclusive results have been located to prove the existence of dope in the Vatican; as a result, all local dope dealers are asked to contact Professor Yerkeys, Swiss Guards will render payment upon shipment’s arrival in Italy.
Just last Friday night, The widely-known gecko who served as the mascot of insurance company Geico was reportedly killed in a fatal car accident. Emergency medical by Lordy Marmaduke technicians pronounced the infamous spokesreptile dead at the scene at 2:15am. was highly intoxicated at the moment of collision,” Sergeant Shoester said. “We estimate his BAC was about .025.” Though a 0.025 blood alcohol content seems harmless for the average drinker, the level was especially lethal for the gecko, considering his startling threeounce weight, barely the size of a penis. Before the accident, the gecko was seen drinking heavily in Gallagher’s Pub & Grill. An anonymous source representing the bar in Downtown Long Beach witnessed him consuming whiskey. “I heard him yell something about being alone on Valentine’s Day again, and then he downed half a shot of Fireball. I think he also said something about Geico deciding not to renew his contract, but it was kind of hard to understand because of his accent. Also, he was pretty hammered.” The young reptile left the bar at closing time (approximately 2am), and was en route to Hamburger Mary’s to “fuck a drag queen,” as another bystander heard him say. He then got into his car and sped off. The incident occurred when Gecko received a sext message from a local drag queen, Delta Work, while driving. While he was attempting to snap a picture of his scaly booty, his rising erection got in the way of the steering wheel, and he lost control of the vehicle, swerving into the bicycle lane. As a result, he was struck by an oncoming sedan at a speed of 37mph. Police reports said that the sedan spun
three times and hit an innocent civilian, lovable spokeswoman for Progressive Insurance. Flo was heavily injured and is currently being treated in the ICU of the Veteran’s Affairs Hospital. Her doctor said she is recovering and should be up on her feet selling more shady insurance packages soon enough. He also voiced his opinion about the incident, saying, “The whole situation could have probably been avoided. I mean, why was a lizard It was later revealed that the gecko actually remained uninsured on the night of the collision. With Gecko gone, his family is left to handle monetary affairs, including the extremely expensive hospital bills. Though the situation is a fairly uncomfortable one, the Geico company decided to pass the dues on to Gecko’s own family, on behalf of “legal stuff.” Unfortunately for the family, they “don’t speak human talk” and are completely unaware of anything that is currently going on. Reports said that they seemed unaffected by the incident. However, if the fees fail to be paid by February 29th, the entire family is in jeopardy of facing serious jail time. In the midst of all this, Geico is also being sued by PETA for the extreme hardships that Gecko experienced while serving the company. PETA claimed that he was under instruction of an English tutor for more than 10 hours a day in order to stay rid of his reptilian accent as well as being forced to perform at a countless amount of children’s birthday parties. The Geico Company refused to comment on these allegations, but have addressed rumors of hiring a new mascot sometime in the near future, joking, “We lizard any time soon.”
40 YEARS LATER, CASSANOVA PERSECUTED FOR STEALING GOLF CART
LORDE UNDERGOES PLASTIC SURGERY TO REPLACE DECEASED GECKO
XZIBIT COMES OUT OF RETIREMENT TO FULFILL DYING WISH OF CAR WITH CANCER
TEENS RAVE, REGGAE MUSIC IS “HOTTER” THAN EVER