Author Archive

staff ed in vw vanSurprisingly few students came to see Gov. Sam Brownback Friday in Cremer Hall – probably because only a handful were invited. It’s just as well because he didn’t say anything new.

But for every ill-conceived policy Brownback has recently been associated with, it seems like his approach to universities in Kansas deserves some praise and some suspicion as well.

Brownback toured a few colleges and universities over the last week promoting his stable funding proposal for higher education. He made a point to mention the proposed cuts in higher education from the legislature. The term “momentum killer” was used several times.

On face, it seems like Brownback is standing up against his party. Republicans tend to disagree with Brownback on state funding for public universities. Brownback wants stable funding, and leading Republicans want cuts.

But Brownback’s “Roadmap For Kansas,” the document detailing his platform for higher education, further distances Kansas from the humanities and liberal arts. It focuses primarily on economically productive disciplines, like engineering, science and technology.

In response to The Bulletin’s question regarding his office’s stance toward humanities and liberal arts, Brownback said, “It supports all of it.”

Why, then, aren’t those disciplines mentioned in the “Roadmap For Kansas?” It seems clear that Brownback’s history of indifference toward the arts is being put on display.

His proposed funding calls for augmented allocations toward needed programs. Don’t be surprised if glass blowing, communication, history or English are not considered worthy for those allocations.

Brownback wants to create a self-sufficient and economically viable higher education atmosphere in Kansas, and he apparently does not feel arts fall into that purview.

But there is more to education than what we can financially squeeze out of it. When we consider English and communication expendable, we sacrifice the building blocks of our social and political lives.

The Bulletin hopes that Brownback is successful in stemming the tide against higher education in general. We ask students who find value in programs ignored by Brownback’s “Roadmap For Kansas” to speak up and make a case for their inclusion in his crusade.

Kansans will find a way to be economically competitive. It’s in our nature. The threat, then, is not on our pocket books, but in our freedom to explore the full breadth of higher education.

 
Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

Emporia is open for business. Let’s just hope that the business we welcome is one we really want and need.

The Emporia Area Chamber of Commerce and Visitors Bureau will host a Chick-fil-A leadercast May 10. But to add another fast food chain to our community is a step in the wrong direction.

It makes sense that the city is pursuing such a marketable business. Chick-fil-A produces some of the most sought-after food in the United States. But there’s nothing special about it. It might taste good, but so what? The reasons against establishing a Chic-fil-A in Emporia are numerous.

Emporia is a city of duplication. Two McDonald’s, three Subways, two Braums, two Taco Bells, and, though this would be the only Chick-fil-A in town, it is essentially more of the same.

Emporia doesn’t need another fast food restaurant. There are already plenty of places to get our calorie fix.

There’s something to be said for uniqueness. The proverbial radio jingle, “Shop Emporia first,” underpins a glaring need for Emporia businesses with staying power. The economic necessity for businesses that provide cheap, high-quality services is complicated by the risk in starting a small business. Chick-fil-A is attractive because it has a corporate structure and a name that everyone recognizes and associates with delicious food.

But every chain that opens in Emporia makes it more difficult for locally owned and operated businesses to stay competitive. How much longer could J’s Carryout exist if we were to saturate the market with a Five Guys and Smashburger?

We could resort to fallbacks like, “That’s the nature of the market,” but that’s defeatist and short-sighted. We are not separate from – or at the mercy of – the Emporia market. We are the market.

We must also question the natures of the businesses we consider. No, we are not referring to the Chick-fil-A same-sex marriage controversy. The company revised its policy in that regard, and we applaud their willingness to do so.

But the fact of the matter is that fast food is one of many culprits in the deteriorating health of our nation. Chick-fil-A is cheap and calorie-laden, only adding to the growing waistline of America.

The Bulletin respects that each individual controls what they eat. To each their own. But enough is enough. Each of us should take the time to express our reservations about Chick-fil-A –or any other fast food chain – sinking their greasy claws into Emporian’s pockets.

The problem is not that Chick-fil-A is a villain but that our city has chosen to champion yet another fast food establishment in lieu of other, healthier options. If we are intent on integrating business and government, intent on managing the Emporia market, then why not invest in something local?

When the bottom line is revenue, anything goes. But we have a voice in this matter. Why did the chicken cross the road? Apparently, we asked it to.

 
Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

No material theft is without intangible consequences. Whether it’s glass blowing equipment, desktop computers or cameras, the recent wave of missing items from across campus brings hardship for those who rely on those items to pursue what they love.

Obviously, the thief/thieves don’t care. We care. They’ve taken more than just objects. They’ve robbed students of the tools of their passions.

The thefts of various high-dollar items across campus come as many are winding down the semester, with annual stress at its peak. Students and faculty now have to deal with safety and security issues on top of their already frantic daily lives. Plumb Hall has instituted mandatory door lock policies as evidenced by the pool of students who stand outside their classroom, waiting to be let in by an instructor. It’s a small change, but everyone has noticed.

When someone mentions campus security and safety, we often revert to images of physical violence. But, sometimes, it’s not our physical well-being that is at risk. These thefts threaten our institutional livelihood and create a paranoia that seeps into our everyday interactions. It’s perched in the backs of our minds every time we leave for a bathroom break or when we’re finished for the day. We hope that our locks are stronger than the thieves are smart.

To the thief/thieves – you can’t take everything. You may have hocked a few items for some cash, and you may be proud about that. You may feel like you got away with something daring. But your bravado and arrogance can never sustain itself. And while you’re out there creating heartache for those you take from, our passions will endure.

Our students are not victims, but your crime is not victimless. Maybe you’ll take comfort in that, but, like your string of luck, your relief won’t last. You are no Robin Hood. There is no nobility in your cause.

Return the items now. You didn’t rob a faceless, morally ambivalent investment bank or store chain. You robbed a school, a place of learning. Your first step in reconciliation is to give back what you’ve taken. Absent that, it is only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down for you, with only regret to accompany your time.

 
Cook

Cook

If purgatory is the place between brilliance and banality, inspired and insipid, and poignant and putrid, then “This Must Be the Place” (2011). Director Paolo Sorrentino redefines limbo with this film. How low can he go?

Sean Penn follows his fantastic, gender-bending performance in “Milk” (2008) with “This Must Be the Place,” a quirky and sporadically dramatic film about Cheyenne, an aging, androgynous rock star bent on locating the Nazi war criminal who humiliated and dehumanized his now deceased father at an Aushwitz concentration camp during World War II. Unfortunately, despite the weighty subject matter that is often illuminated by Penn, this film is a swing-and-a-miss for the Academy Award winning actor.

This movie seems like a character piece masquerading as something larger. It takes on several subplots, develops and then haphazardly disposes all of them. One particular tangent involves Mary (Eve Hewson), a young, angry woman who is the object of Desmond’s (Sam Keeley) affection. By the end of the film, you’d be hard-pressed to say what happens between these two, despite the intrigue Sorrentino evokes in the beginning.

Cheyenne is affable. He appears shy, yet confident. He loves the people in his life, and they adore him as well. His journey across America lands him in interesting but irrelevant situations. As a result, he dispenses nuggets of wisdom on any and every soul he encounters. If you’re not a fan of quippy one-liners, avoid this film. The dialogue detracts from Cheyenne’s character development and functions only to elevate the philosophical perspective of the film. It’s kind of like reading a book of Confucius quotes for 118 minutes.

The title of the film is taken from a Talking Heads song and reminds the audience of how ambitious this movie is. The score is done by the Talking Head’s David Byrne, who makes a small and pointless cameo, and Will Oldham of Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy fame. Both are accomplished and acclaimed musicians and songwriters.

But we learn the hard way in “This Must Be the Place” that soundtracks and albums are two very different worlds. The music comes off as intrusive and misplaced. The melodies themselves are beautiful, and if someone were to listen to the soundtrack without any visual accompaniment, it might be enjoyable. But those of us with functioning eyes can’t help but blend the optical and aural stimuli into one giant mess.

“This Must Be the Place” is an example of a movie that invests so much in its protagonist that it loses sight of the rest of the film. Our desire for Penn to emotionally affect us as he has so many other times, like in “Mystic River” (2003) or “Dead Man Walking” (1995), is not enough to sustain our interest. There’s more to interesting characters than their costumes and mannerisms. Stories have to relate to the audience in some way.

It’s obvious that this film didn’t intend on being surrealist, but our reaction is as if it were one. We cock our heads to the side, puzzled, as if we were trying to extract concrete meaning from a Salvador Dali painting – a fool’s errand.

 
Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

Former Sen. Anthony Weiner (D-N.Y.) learned the hard way how temperamental privacy settings are. In May 2011, his very private, sexually explicit messages were publically broadcasted over his Twitter account, which lead to his resignation.

With the advent of Banjo, an Smartphone app that broadcasts public Tweets and Facebook activity based on location, Weiner’s fumble may have become our own.

Students want to feel comfortable online. The pervasive and unfounded belief that the Internet is a place of security goes unquestioned, especially when students post potentially illicit content. But the hard truth is that it’s not. Employers know it, identity thieves know it and now Banjo lets your professors and classmates in on the snooping, too.

With Banjo, anything you post publically can be read by anyone within a given geographical designation. One could stroll through Memorial Union on any given Monday and collect hundreds Tweets regarding last Saturday’s kegger on Merchant Street. The photos you just posted of you drinking from a beer funnel can now be seen by anyone near you, not just your designated friends and followers. Even before Banjo, posting, tagging and tweeting was a risky game to play. It’s not difficult to find who you’re looking for.

There are ways around Banjo’s prying eye, of course. Privacy settings can be adjusted to limit Tweets and updates to a particular viewing audience.

So, Hornets, consider this fair warning. The Bulletin will be exploring Banjo’s newsworthy attributes. All following issues this semester will feature a special section devoted to content derived from Twitter and Facebook activity around ESU. We won’t be hacking, mind you. Everything we will publish is already public.

Perhaps this is a good opportunity for each of us to rethink our online personas. A person’s publicized words and thoughts matter. They affect people in dramatic and real ways.

As always, we will be mindful of the individual in our utilization of Banjo. We hope that our publication of Tweets and updates from around campus will remind students to do likewise. Frankly, no one wants to end up a Weiner.

 
Cook

Cook

Documentaries often pretend to tell an objective story. “Manhattan, Kansas” (2006) is an example of documentary that adapts to its subject. Director Tara Wray doesn’t force the audience to accept any particular truth. She understands the complexities involved in making amends with estranged family members, even if she lacks movie-making savvy. Wray shows maturity and vision as she lays bare an earnest attempt at personal closure.

Unlike the familiar marquee documentaries from directors like Ken Burns (“Baseball,” “The Civil War”), Wray doesn’t tackle a mammoth subject matter. She grew up in Manhattan, Kan. but the film begins with an introduction to Wray’s life in Manhattan, N.Y. Her departure from Kansas was abrupt and turbulent. She was raised by her mother, Evie Wray, an eccentric and free spirited woman who Wray blames for much of her emotional and psychological baggage. The film chronicles Wray’s attempt to confront her mother about their rocky past.

The film is Wray’s directorial debut, and she enlists the help of experienced film makers in telling a story in the most appropriate way she could imagine. The confessional, narrative and first-hand footage are chunky and the low resolution video quality detracts from the otherwise exceptional shot selection. Film editor Cindy Lee did her absolute best with the grainy imagery.

But it is precisely the grain of the images that creates a sense of desperation in the film. The backdrop of rural Hunter, Kan. and Evie Wray’s dilapidated dwelling are not elevated above the subject matter. If we were given a pristine picture, literally or figuratively, it would seem dishonest.

Wray is front and center throughout the film. There is rarely a moment where she is not in-frame or commenting on what is happening. It’s obvious from the outset that Wray is invested in rectifying her own problems through the making of this film. Her intentions clearly aren’t to sell DVDs.

The very personal nature of the film raises questions to its situational appropriateness. Several scenes feature Wray’s therapy sessions leading up to her trip back to Kansas. It’s an uneasy viewing for the audience, since we are entirely at the whim of the director’s vision. But Wray’s manages to show us more than herself, even if we see very little outside of her.

Evie doesn’t seem as crazy as Wray makes her out to be. Sure, she’s irresponsible and aloof. She’s unemployed and often speaks about getting rich without any conceivable plan for doing so. She even indirectly admits that she was negligent with her daughter. But by the end of the film, we want to believe in Evie because perhaps we aren’t as far removed from her as the director hopes.

It’s clear that both Wray and Evie are lost. What’s not clear is that this film rectified any of the underlying problems that lead them astray in the first place. Wray understandably couldn’t let the film end without some sort of resolution and does a decent job of portraying the first baby-steps of personal growth. But we are no closer to understanding either character than we were an hour ago.

 
Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

A small group of neon-clad political science students made as much noise as university regulations would allow Tuesday morning in Union Square. Time will tell if it was enough to save the political science department from closure.

But as the students wait with bated breath, we should all join the fight to preserve liberal arts education at Emporia State.

Protest isn’t common on campus, so when the students most educated in the ways of political dissidence decided to make a statement, they were met with looks of bewilderment. They held signs and chanted as students walked by. A few curious students joined the ranks or inquired about the cause, but it appeared as if indifference won the day. We cannot allow apathy to dictate our academic future.

What is at stake is an education that prioritizes political participation in our community. At a time when partisanship has hamstringed genuine discussion, the fostering of a democratically-minded and educated population warrants our full support in every way possible.

The lack of faculty participation in Tuesday’s demonstration was discouraging and is indicative of the culture of submission that exists at ESU. The struggle to preserve political science requires a unity across disciplines, ages, genders, races and ethnicities.

The restrictions on our collective voice, the rules that determine appropriate forms of protest, should be met with scrutiny. If the university seeks a greater educational experience, then it is up to students to call out intrusive policies that are contrary to that experience.

Union Square cannot be the extent of our activism. Our reaction to the political science department’s potential closing will be a testament to the resolution of our students.

The students brave enough to protest Tuesday were not the only ones with something to lose. If we permit the disintegration of political science, then all humanities are at risk. The recent trend against the arts and soft sciences has been met with fierce resistance within the United States.

The battle is no longer somewhere else. It is at our doorstep. There is no greater time to voice your opposition than right now.

 
Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

Cartoon by Ellen Weiss

An undocumented Emporia man aided law enforcement, and now he faces deportation. His family waits in Emporia for word that their husband and father will be sent back to his native El Salvador. After 10 years, four children (a fifth on the way), a completed GED and words of praise from many that know him, Julio Berti still found it difficult to gain citizenship in the United States.

U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement took Berti into custody about eight months ago, and he is currently detained at the Caldwell County Detention Center in Kingston, Mo., where he awaits deportation.

The reason behind his incarceration is still unclear. But the community outreach toward the Berti family, the testimonials to that end and Berti’s marriage to Lorena Zamora-Berti, a legal U.S. resident, begs the question of accessibility. How can we promote our country as open and welcoming – “the land of the free” – when it is so clearly entangled in bureaucratic roadblocks?

Some believe Berti had it coming, that he was in the country without proper authority and that deportation is a logical reaction to his presence. But his citizenship is not the issue here.

What matters more is that he cooperated with the government, evident by his interactions with the Kansas Bureau of Investigation, and was still at a loss for legalization.

Perhaps the rhetoric around illegal immigration doesn’t reflect the reality. Attaining a green card or work visa might not be as cut-and-dry as previously thought.

It’s imperative that Berti’s story take center stage in discussions of immigration in America because it speaks to not only the individual character of the deportees, but the law enforcement we entrust to regulate our borders. People are not disposable.

State and Federal agencies need to work toward the same end, which should be the legalization of workers in the U.S. Emporians are rallying behind the Berti family, but it might already be too late. They recognize an injustice when they see it, but instances like this make us wonder how much goes unseen. How many families are separated under similar circumstances? It might be more than we think.

 

Take Action: Urge Senator Durbin to Help Stop Julio’s Deportation

Washington D.C. office: 202-224-2152

Chicago office: 312-353-4952

 
Cook

Cook

If horror films are meant to horrify, then “Excision” (2012) doesn’t appear to qualify. But the loose interpretation of the genre isn’t that disconcerting when held to a broader cinematic standard. “Excision” somehow manages to keep us queasy and hungry at the same time.

The film is the feature length writing and directorial debut of Richard Bates Jr. The story follows Pauline (Annalynne McCord), a sickly, quick-witted, socially inept and, most importantly, sociopathic teenager whose obsession with medical procedures and blood permeates all aspects of her life. Her family appears normal enough. They eat together. They live in a nice home in the suburbs. The family matriarch, Phyllis (Traci Lords), is overbearing and just shy of tyrannical. The father, Bob (Roger Bart), is a pushover. Ariel Winter of ABC’s “Modern Family” plays Pauline’s precocious younger sister, Grace, who lives with cystic fibrosis.

“Excision” travels back and forth between the fantasy world of Pauline, rife with sadomasochistic fantasies and art house-ish gore, and the reality of modern American teenage life. It follows the tradition of pinnacle horror films like “Carrie” (1976) in depicting the “social outcast with a dark secret.” But unlike Carrie, Pauline is unconcerned with the politics of high school. Instead, she manipulates her peers to do her bidding, rather than weep at their insults.

Bates Jr. takes plenty of opportunities to tip his hat to other directors. There’s even a small role in the film for famed gore-centric and underground cinematic icon John Waters as a Catholic priest who attempts to counsel Pauline per the request of her parents. The film is riddled with stylistic references to Water’s films – the merging of sex and gore, the “freak” factor, the underplayed and satirized moral soothsayer. Bates’ use of bright colors and high-noon, daylight photography also alludes to films like Mary Harron’s “American Psycho” (2000), which dismantled the long held motif of horror movies as visually dark and perpetually dirty.

Indeed, the clean, methodical and surgical precision of the cinematography adds to the grotesque nature of Pauline’s personality disorder. The film schizophrenically plays with images of cleanliness and filth, premeditation and spontaneity in a way that keeps the audience unsure of the plot’s direction. Hats off to art director Robert Platzer, as well as Anthony Tran for his costume design. Both managed to visually straddle the line between the pristine and deformity.

The acting is as good as the script would allow. The closing scene showcases McCord’s chops better than the build-up hinted at. The rest of the cast smartly and accurately bowed to Pauline’s screen presence in every scene. It’s refreshing to see a disciplined cast unwilling to tip the direction of a film just so they can add something dramatic to their resume.

But after the credits roll, it’s obvious that “Excision” isn’t meant to keep you up at night. The audience is instead left feeling as if they just finished watching an episode of “Unsolved Mysteries,” rather than a slasher flick. It simply doesn’t scare anyone. But that’s not a reason to avoid seeing “Excision” – it’s a reason to reconsider what constitutes a horror film.

 
Cook

Cook

http://www.esubulletin.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/cooknew-001.jpg

The pressure to keep school open during inclement weather must be overwhelming because there was no good reason to do so Tuesday. Clearly, keeping classes going is more important than the safety of students.

As we all know, Emporia found itself at the mercy of Mother Nature over the last week. Inch after inch of the white shroud blanketed the town and made travel difficult, if not impossible, for many students and other Emporians.

It’s not as if we were completely helpless. The city managed to make some roads drivable a few hours after the snow let up. We were reassured that, “President Michael D. Shonrock said he finished walking around and driving around campus and downtown. The campus and city road crews have done a super job,” according to Emporia State’s Facebook page.

But as students looked out their windows, the impossibility of travel became apparent. Report after report of frustration with ESU, the only school in Emporia operating on Tuesday, came streaming through status updates on Facebook and other social media platforms.

What compounded our puzzlement was the sheer amount of classes that were cancelled, independent of the university’s decision. And even if a class wasn’t cancelled, what kind of professor would punish students for not being in attendance?

We understand that any request to cancel school only sounds like a whiney attempt to take a free day, but there are legitimate claims that need to be addressed. What about parents with kids whose schools were closed? Babysitters are hard to come by in blizzard conditions. Should we force them to abandon work or risk an absence? What about students that live in rural areas or more than two miles away from campus?

The reality is that there is a whole other world outside of our campus that was ignored Tuesday morning. Not just a physical world, but one of schedule conflicts that are created when the normal rhythms of Emporia are disrupted. The safety of the students, staff and faculty should be a paramount consideration in all aspects of administrative duty.

The university must broaden its considerations to more than just the walkability of Union Square, else we find ourselves in the cold.