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Story by Curtis Steudeman

I have a list of lifetime goals that I try to keep in my head. One is to drive 200 miles per hour. Another is to run a marathon. Finally, one is to go to the World Series. Check on that last one.

Last Thursday I went to Game 4 of the 2006 World Series in St. Louis. I was already planning on going to St. Louis for a journalism convention, and ever since August I had a good feeling that the St. Louis Cardinals would go all the way this year. About a week before my trip, still before the Cards had secured their World Series spot, I entered a drawing on the Cardinals Web site for World Series ticket rights. I won my rights in the second round and was able to purchase two standing room tickets (The best available).

Once I arrived in St. Louis that Thursday, the electricity in the streets was incredible. On my way to the stadium I walked behind Magglio Ordonez, the Tigers power hitter who belted the homerun that finished the sweep of the Oakland Athletics in the ALCS.

I went to the box office and picked up my World Series tickets. There was something about having them in my hand. They felt different. Smelled different, too. I knew that I could sell the pair on the spot for almost $500. Not a chance.

When the gates opened, we were one of the first inside the new stadium. Bright neon lights, loyal fans, and the smell of grilled hot dogs filled the stadium.

The game itself was one of the best I’ve ever seen. The back-and-forth scoring inspired the spinning of rally towels and countless cheers. The eventual win couldn’t have been written better. A botched diving catch gave up the go-ahead run and the Cardinals closed out the game as they have so many times before.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the Cardinals since Tony LaRussa and several Athletics moved to the organization back in the 1990’s. It was really special to see a team work so hard, knowing that so much was on the line.

There is only one thing that I’d change about the experience, though.

I can’t wait to see the Giants in a similar position. Although, I must be honest, I’ll have so much invested in a Giants World Series emotionally, I’m not sure I can stomach it.

Story by Belinda Wong

A Philadelphia father was charged with aggravated assault after pulling a gun on his son's football coach because he didn't think the boy was getting enough playing time.

Even though there were no injuries, the mere fact that parental behavior at
youth sporting events has become an issue is disturbing on its own. These kids were six and seven years old. That's some good example setting, dad. I'd love to get a glimpse into this household.

It's just sad. Parents must lead by example, but there is no hope for a promising future if proper guidance isn't implemented.

Organizations like the "Citizens Through Sports Alliance" and "The Center for Sports Parenting" promotes fair play in sports and reinforces the value of sport as a test of character. Since 1997, CTSA has been building a sports culture that encourages respect for self, respect for others, and respect for the game."

But unfortunately, parents acting, let's say - childish, is all too common.

According to shatteredpeace.com, a Pennsylvania parent body-slammed a high school referee after he ordered the man's wife out of the gym for allegedly yelling obscenities during a basketball game.

Also in Pennsylvania, a former police officer was convicted of soliciting assault for giving a 10-year-old Little League pitcher $2 to hit another youngster with a fastball.

And there's plenty more where that came from.

Regarding the increase of parental violence at youth sporting events, Fred Engh, of the National Alliance for Youth Sports, told the New York Times "It's not the kid at bat," he said, "It's the parent, who is living vicariously through his child.”

A second factor is greed, Engh said. "So many parents today are saying, 'My child is going to get some of that money, the millions of dollars in professional sports or a college scholarship."

Looks like it's the parents who need to grow up.

Story by Bernadette Blanco

It seems that there is always a new energy drink coming out claiming to be better and trendier than the rest. First there was Red Bull and then Rock Star, and then a slew of drinks appeared: Monster, Sobe Adrenaline, Pimp Juice, Crunk, Hyphy Grapple and the list goes on.

Last month, Redux, a beverage company from Las Vegas, came out with a controversial energy drink called “The Legal Alternative: Cocaine Energy Drink Sold Here." According to a recent article from the San Jose Mercury News, the drink “Cocaine” claims to have 18 grams of sugar and 350 percent more caffeine than Red Bull, which has 80 milligrams of caffeine. And just when you thought it was bad enough, the drink also contains a throat numbing-substance that mimics the effect of the real drug.

The disturbing drink angered many parents and so several stores like 7-Eleven are boycotting the drink until it changes its name. Yet, despite the controversy, “Cocaine” has been a best-seller among teenagers.

That comes to no surprise. What better way for teens to rebel than to buy an energy drink that’s gained negative attention among parents. And what’s worse, a majority of the young consumers are girls. Why? Maybe these young girls think that by buying “Cocaine,” they can emulate the party-going lifestyle of their favorite celebrities Lindsay Lohan or Nicole Ritchie, who are rumored to use the drug cocaine. It’s really pathetic.

I have never tried “Cocaine,” but I will drink a Red Bull occasionally when I’m up late trying to finish a paper or if I just need a pick-me-up, but there are certainly potential health risks.

With its high levels of caffeine and sugar, several countries in Europe have strict regulations on energy drinks. A British supermarket does not sell Red Bull to teens under 16 years old, and in Denmark, Norway, Uraguay, and France, Red Bull is considered a medicine because it contains taurine.

If they think Red Bull is bad, I wonder what they would think about “Cocaine.”

Story by Logan Triglia

You may have heard: Gavin Newsom has a new girlfriend.

SFGate.com, a seemingly respectable news Web site had the revelation as its lead story on Oct. 15.

The news factor, or tidbit that makes a story like this worth reporting is that Newsom’s new love interest is a 20-year-old model by day, hostess by night who may or may not have been drinking a the grand opening of the Westfield San Francisco Centre.

A 20-year-old drinking alcohol? I’ve never heard anything crazier!

Photos of Brittanie Mountz holding a wine glass at the grand opening festivities were posted on Bay Area photographer’s website, but when a Chronicle City Hall reporter began asking questions the photos disappeared.

It started with the mayor letting his normal hairstyle, a gelled back fade go wild and free. This earth-shattering, life-changing news also made the front page of the Chronicle Web site.

My question is this: Who cares?

Why is the mayor’s private life any of my business and furthermore, why is tabloid journalism making the front page of the Chronicle website when there are congressional sex scandals to report on? Hmm.

So, is the concern that Mountz is a 20-year-old who drinks in public? Or are we supposed to be outraged that our ever so popular (not to mention attractive and single) mayor would dare associate with another attractive single person, let alone be in her presence while she allegedly breaks the law by consuming alcohol? The former is laughable, the latter an insulting assumption made by the Chronicle.

My plea so the Chronicle is this: Please, respectable news source, don’t sink to the level of so many other publications during election time (although not a mayoral election) and grapple with any piece of tabloid news you can dig up.

Please, stop reporting stories that are essentially how-to guides on utilizing San Francisco’s brothels (intriguing, local and relevant topic, tabloid delivery).

And while we’re at it, no more leaking grand jury testimony!

Stay classy, San Francisco.

Story by Mark Howell

A customer of mine at work reminded me that Tuesday, Oct. 17, was the anniversary of the big earthquake of 1989. This brought back a lot of memories.

It was the Battle of the Bay Series between the San Francisco Giants and the Oakland Athletics. The Giants were on the verge of being swept, but the there was something else on every Bay Area residents mind that day. Just as the A’s scored another run, televisions everywhere began to shut off and the ground started to shake. A magnitude 6.9 earthquake shook the Bay Area ground and everybody ran for cover.

I was six years old at the time and I remember what I was doing that day. I wasn’t into sports back than so I wasn’t one of the millions watching the World Series. I was watching the Snorkels, while my mom was in the kitchen putting the dishes away. All of a sudden, the TV shut off and our apartment began to move. I was in the middle of the living room, so I just curled up into a ball and covered my head, while my mom was in the kitchen trying to keep the cabinets from spilling out our glassware.

I didn’t know what was happening at the time because I never heard of an earthquake or been in one. The TV wasn’t working so we turned on the radio and the guy from the station was telling us that an earthquake just hit the bay area. My mom was worried about my father, who was owned a grocery store at the time, so we jumped in the car and went over to his store to see if he was all right. When we got there, we found out that three bottles fell on him, but he turned out to be fine.

The television at his store was working and we all started watching the news and learning about the damage the earthquake caused. What I remember from that news coverage was the footage on the Bay Bridge. I remember the car driving on the top deck of the bridge and all of sudden it falls right through to the second deck. That really scared me, but we all calmed down when a few family members came by and we all sat down and started telling ghost stories.

Finally after all the stories were told, we went home and checked on our apartment. There was no major damage, just a few broken glasses, which we all helped to clean up.

That happened 17 years ago, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. I am just hoping that the Bay Area does not have to go through that again.

Story by Aaron Morrison


On Monday, USA Today insinuated that children who are spanked have an increased chance of becoming the world’s top CEOs and power brokers. This news certainly comes too late for most college students.

Honestly, how many of us would have taken a few more spankings to have the master corner-office suite, stock options, and a Rolls Royce?

I certainly was spanked when I was growing up. But hell, don’t I now wish I could have been beaten nearly unconscious just before I went off to college. Perhaps I’d have that 4.0 GPA.

The very suggestion that there is a correlation between getting the belt occasionally and becoming the head of a major corporation is a bit absurd, but not totally far-fetched.

While I’m no CEO or power broker, I certainly can attest to the power of a good beating. I remember the time I was spanked in the first grade (pants down with a wooden yardstick from the garage) because a girl hit me and I pushed her back. Of course when the girl told our teacher, I was the one sent home with a “bad news” report for my parents to sign, which clearly stated that I had pushed a chubby, brunette girl during recess.

My mom spanked me good for that one. And while I was angry that nobody believed the girl hit me first, I certainly avoided all potentially physical altercations with the opposite sex from then on. Perhaps this means I’ll be less likely to beat my wife when I get married. But I’ve digressed.

Where was I? Oh yes, pubescent beatings and CEOs.

According to the USA Today article, of the 20 CEOs they interviewed over a few months, all 20 over-achievers admitted to being spanked during their youth. However, most felt being spanked as an adolescent had little to do with the successes in their careers.

That’s complete bullshit.

If I’m going to be beat for most, if not all, of my childhood, something good better come out of it.

In fact, I urge you all to tell your younger brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, cousins and Godchildren to stop hiding daddy’s belt. Just hand it to him when he comes home from work. Tell him you pushed Suzy Bluesy on the playground today at recess. And don’t forget to mention she broke her neck. That’ll get you a real good whooping.

During the spanking, snotty nose and tears, think of the paid vacation to tropic islands, the country club memberships and expense accounts. It’s all worth it, right?

Story by Dashiell Collins

Over the past weekends, I've taken part in events that speak to the true nature of San Francisco. I went to LoveFest and got drunk in the streets with friends. I photographed one man giving another man a blowjob, inches from my bike, at the Folsom Street Fair. I rode in my first Critical Mass and laughed as some pissed-off driver yelled at a cyclist "What makes you think you have the right to stop traffic?" Apparently he's never noticed the two-wheeled chaos on the last Friday of every month for oh, only the last 15 years.

I met cheerleaders at the Castro Street Fair who raise money for the fight against AIDS and cancer. I even made it to opening weekend of the new mall, but not to take part in the consumer trap of doom under the beautiful dome. It was the only place “The U.S. vs John Lennon” was playing that my roommate told me about, so we went.

Along with less than 50 people who all seemed over or nearly 50, munching on 50 cent popcorn, I couldn't help but chuckle at the blatant comparisons of Lennon, Nixon and Vietnam to this country's current downward spiral, with another criminal president and unpopular war. They are the same comparisons we've all heard. And it saddens me to think that the principles that Lennon believed in, the principles I saw in action these past weeks, are the same principles that our country still cannot embrace.

The powers of this country still cannot give peace a chance. Whatever steps this country had since taken closer to brotherhood among all citizens were pushed back by political feud, general distrust, and fear of those with a different color, religion or ideology.

And guess what: it's about a month until Americans vote again. Yes, us citizens of this shining beacon of democracy will go to the polls, probably in pathetically low numbers as usual, and see which party we think will make everything ok again, at least for ourselves. Will the champions of grand old American values keep their grip? Hey, if Mark Foley is gay and sends sexual e-mails to his underage staffers, why wouldn't someone I photographed at Folsom vote for him? Oh yeah, he's gone.

Maybe some of those folks who live between the parentheses of California and New York might open their eyes a little bit, see where their precious elephants have led us along by their tails. Or maybe not. I don't trust those electronic voting machines, because there's no hanging chads when there's no paper trail.

Meanwhile, our Congress is on a month break to campaign. We've got no legislature for October. That's just a little weird to me. Let's just leave the country in the hands of the White House and their Supreme Court, just as we're about to threaten the others(1) rollin along that axis of evil(2).

The times just keep getting scarier. War is over, if you want it.

Story by Logan Triglia

Facebook has opened its figurative doors to the rest of the Internet.

The social networking site, formerly open only to those with an educational (.edu) e-mail address, is now allowing anyone with a ‘verified’ e-mail address to register and use the site.

There was quite an uproar at the beginning of this semester when Facebook launched their Big Brother-esque news feed. The feature greeted users at each login with a bullet-pointed play-by-play of what their friends were up to.

If Jamie accepted Casey as a friend, I knew!

If Jenna left a message for Taryn about their weekend plans, I knew!

Students started a formal petition to Mark Zuckerberg, the 22-year-old creator of Facebook, who responded with an open letter of apology and explanation and added more diligent privacy features.

While some believe that Facebook’s latest expansion is the result of a potential sale to Yahoo! for a reported $1 billion, others think that Facebook is just doing what it must to keep up with its biggest rival, MySpace.com.

Zuckerberg will not comment, only revealing that he has ‘spoken to different companies about different things.’

It’s clear that students enjoy the voyeuristic tendencies of cyber-networking. But it’s also clear that they don’t want others to know who they’re watching. Failure of the MySpace profile tracker anyone?

Facebook groups formed by SF State students such as, ‘I’m Afraid to go on Facebook because EVERYONE WILL KNOW,’ and ‘Do not invite people to Facebook!’ have more than 240 students collectively. Just to keep it in perspective, another SF State group with nearly 100 members is ‘SFSU students STREAKING on FIRST RAIN.’

So there you have it; SF State students taking their privacy very seriously while simultaneously not taking it seriously at all.

Something students may be overlooking is the fact that despite the expansion, Facebook still only allows those in your network (in our case SF State) to view your profile.

And there’s always those handy privacy features.

Story by Melanie Heimburg

I know it’s cliché to say “Life can drastically change in a split second,” but after my morning, those words are ringing true…

It’s an irregularly-sunny Tuesday morning and I’m waiting for Muni. If I’m not headed to school, I’m off to work, so the whole bus experience has become pretty mundane. I see a car trying to parallel park. The driver underestimates the car’s length and that icky metal-on-curb scraping noise is produced. Almost simultaneously, I hear a different car’s brakes screech to a halt, which I assume is on the busier and less visible Geary Street, one block over, since I don’t see anything.

Gosh, am I going to be late for class? Is that bus coming yet? My eyes strain to see the answer is “nope” so I look back down at my magazine.

“Help help!” a man’s voice urgently calls from somewhere behind me.

Another woman – blonde with a sweater tied around her waist – who is also waiting for the bus, and I dash halfway across the intersection to the yelling man after standing dumbfounded for a good 15 seconds trying to process what we’re seeing:

A smaller-sized person in dark clothing is crumpled upon the asphalt and the man yelling “help” is trying desperately to help him up, which doesn’t look like it’s working at all. It looks like the small body is disproportionately heavy. Up close, I see the crumpled person is an old, maybe 80-year-old, Asian man with hearing aides.

Oh man, poor guy must have tripped while crossing the street. Or worse, maybe he had a heart attack. He looks discombobulated.

The other man tells us he’s helping the old guy up in a voice that sounds like he’s barking orders. But it seems as though the very second we touch his drooping body, blood begins pouring from the crumpled man’s nose. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. This is not just a fallen elderly man, the woman with the sweater and I seem to realize at the same time.

“Did you hit this man?” she asks.

Holy crap. The crumpled man was hit by a car. He was hit by a car. Oh my gosh.

In a split second, it seems as every person in a two-block radius has sprung into action. At least three people are calling for help on their cell phones, somebody places their jacket under the crumpled man’s head, a woman who was driving stops her car in the intersection and steps onto the street to direct traffic around the incident, and a guy with a close-shaven beard who seems to be more medically knowledgeable than the rest of us takes control. A fellow journalism student and I (we ride the same bus) run two blocks to the fire station for help.

In a city where you regularly walk pass not one, but many people that sleep on the street every night, in a city where you know a bus schedule better than your neighbor, in a city that’s filled with people that are just going to leave in a week (hi tourists) it can be difficult to establish a sense of community.

But this morning, people who probably wouldn’t have even looked at each other while riding the bus came together as a group because somebody was in need.

I hear people constantly talking about my generation’s apathy toward politics or current events. I’d argue that it’s not just us – it’s the whole freaking nation. People don’t have time to make meaningful relationships or to get involved in all that confusing political stuff - they’re too busy trying to be individual and make enough money to “make it.”

So my point is this: it shouldn’t take a natural disaster or school shooting for people to come together. But it does – and the shelf life of compassion is seriously short when these things happen anyway. We as Americans tend to choose apathy on a daily basis because it’s easier, because we have the option to do so, because unless we’re faced with a crucial, undeniable need, there’s no need for us to care.

So don’t blame my generation.

Besides, maybe the apathy is the way to go when you forget that your life can change drastically change in a split-second.

Story by Bernadette Blanco

There have been many wedding horror stories, but certainly very few stories about a bride being kidnapped by her very own parents.

On Wednesday, a bride was kidnapped by her parents just days before her wedding day. The bride was told by her parents that they were taking her on a shopping spree, but instead, they drove 240 miles away from the wedding ceremony, Provo, Utah to Colorado.

The bride-to-be, Julianna Redd, was taken captive by her parents, Lemuel and Julia Redd. Her parents tried to talk her out of the wedding nuptials, but couldn’t convince her so they kept her in Colorado until she missed her wedding.

Her fiancé, Perry Myers, realized his bride was missing after she didn’t show up to the pre-wedding dinner and called police. Yet, the police had to do little, in fact, did no searching for the bride.

Mr. and Mrs. Redd brought their daughter back home the day after her scheduled wedding date. The parents were then arrested by the Provo police and they were charged with second-degree kidnapping. If the parents are convicted, they could face up to 15 years in prison.

Despite the whole fiasco, four days after the incident, 21-year-old Julianna Redd got married. It’s too bad her parents didn’t realize before their plan, that nothing -- not even kidnapping -- can prevent their daughter from getting married.

What would drive her parents to do such a drastic thing?

Julianna indicated that the kidnapping had nothing to do with her fiancé. So what was it? Did Mr. and Mrs. Redd think that Julianna was too young to get married? Or did they think that the wedding date wasn’t the appropriate time to get married?

Whatever the case may be, the parents’ plan was stupid and selfish. The Redds can’t hold a grown adult captive and think that it is okay.

Julianna and Perry are now expecting their first baby in May 2007. This will surely be an interesting wedding story they can tell their new child about.

Story by Curtis Steudeman

The San Francisco Giants need to make a lot of changes before they can even begin to think of competing next season. At least the Giants are on the right track.

The Giants decided not to renew manager Felipe Alou’s contract this off-season. Alou had been the San Francisco skipper for four years and did leave an impression.

In his first year with the Giants, Alou led the team to a 100-win season and a wire-to-wire first-place finish in the National League West Division.

Since then, it’s been a bumpy road. This season the Giants finished third in their division with a losing record, 11 1/2 games behind the Padres and Dodgers. Ouch.

The decision to let Alou walk was a good one on the part of San Francisco general manager Brian Sabean. Like Alou, Sabean’s usually known for keeping personnel that are well past their prime.

So the real question now is “Who’s next?” Sabean’s comments have been very broad, saying that nearly anyone is a candidate.

Coincidentally, Dusty Baker, Alou’s predecessor, is also out of a job with the Chicago Cubs. It would be interesting to see if anything materializes with the Giants now.

I think that Sabean will surprise most by either going with someone in the organization (perhaps long-time pitching coach Dave Righetti) or go with someone completely new that’s never managed in the majors before.

This is a gamble that the ballclub needs to take if they want to prove successful in the next couple of seasons. However, this is just the first step the Giants need to take to build a successful team.

After a managerial decision has been set in stone, Sabean and his staff need to start making decisions about the veteran players on the team.

While players like Moises Alou did well with a .301 average and 22 home runs, he was only able to play 92 games. At this point in their career, I doubt that the Giants will be able to get much for these veteran players in a trade, but it’s something that needs to be considered.

It’s no secret that next season the Giants need to go younger.

Story by Katie Cox

Anna Nicole is back in the media with more stories of drug abuse and promiscuity, but this time the gossip is more tragic than tasty. The recent death of her 20-year-old son, Daniel Smith, and debates over the paternity of her newborn daughter, Dannielynn Hope, has been front cover news in several tattlers within the last month, making us yearn for the good ole’ days when she was only slurring sentences at award shows.

Daniel Smith was found dead in his mother’s hospital room in the Bahamas as she recovered from the birth of her new baby, only days before. It took weeks before the coroner concluded that the cause of death was an “accidental” combination of prescription medication including methadone, Lexapro and Zoloft.

Where did he get the medication? (only the Lexapro was prescribed), and why was he obviously trying to sedate himself after the seemingly joyous birth of his new sister? Nobody knows.

Then, to make matters more weird, Smith’s attorney Howard K. Stern announced his paternity to the baby girl, only to be challenged by photographer, Larry Birkhead, who has also staked his claim on the infant.

Birkhead is now requesting that Smith return the baby to California where a paternity test and a drug test can be conducted.

Yes, that’s right folks, now the baby may have drugs in her system.

Meanwhile Smith, who is now residing in the Bahamas, is protected from the California court system unless she returns.

Smith and Stern held a commitment ceremony last week on a boat, surrounded by only close friends and family. And just in case anyone doesn’t remember, Stern was Anna Nicole’s “man-slave” on her reality television show a few years back -- the one often ordered to bring her pickles and rub her feet.

And so, as the Anna Nicole Smith drama continues to unfold with the paternity of her daughter still up in the air and the reasons for her son’s overdose a mystery, it is natural that we long for the simpler days when we could just laugh at her instead of feel sorry for her.

Story by Erick Ayapana

During my online publication lab earlier this week, Professor Andrew DeVigal asked the class, “Why are you studying journalism?” Answers ranged from the desire “to tell a story” and the opportunity to “meet people you normally wouldn’t talk to.”

I’m studying journalism because I want to write about cars. I have loved cars since the age of five when I picked up my first Car and Driver magazine and read reviews about the Porsche 911, Chevrolet Corvette, Toyota Supra, etc….

But with the uncertainty of gas supplies and global warming, I’m also aware of the negative effects behind cars. When I moved to San Francisco six years ago, I was almost embarrassed to be a car fanatic in a city full of environmentalists and car haters.

I’m still a fanatic, but I’m more mindful of what car companies are doing to develop alternative fuel sources and cleaner engines – including diesel engines.

Your first memories of diesels most likely include the Volkswagen and Mercedes-Benz sedans from the early 1980’s that would sputter along freeway onramps while spewing sulfur and particulates (that nasty black soot and smoke cloud) into the air from their tailpipes.

Those polluting beasts from the past are a huge reason why consumers can’t purchase a new diesel vehicle in five states, including California, due to strict emission laws. It’s unfortunate because diesel cars today are quieter, cleaner and more fuel-efficient than some of their gasoline-powered counterparts.

That could change for you diesel hungry Californians as soon as this month.

According to a CNN.com article released on Wednesday, “ultra-low-sulfur diesel fuel will roll out to the nation’s pumps this month” which should allow car companies like Mercedes-Benz to sell clean burning diesel cars in California again. The Mercedes-Benz E320, for example, has been available to the rest of the country since 2003.

And last Thursday, Edmunds.com reported that Honda Motors will soon release a “next-generation” diesel engine that will run significantly cleaner than diesels we have seen in the past.

The CNN.com report predicts that these new diesel cars could take away the hybrid car’s crown in terms of price, fuel-economy and performance.

We shall soon see.

The new Honda diesel should be available by 2009, which should give you soon-to-be-college-graduates plenty of time to pay off those student loans and credit cards.

Story by Erika Estrada

Happy National Customer Service Week, everyone!

Didn't know? Well, neither did I.

The first week of October pays homage to those who have delightfully made our stay more welcome and our meals more enjoyable, while providing us with the hospitality we demand and oh-so deserve.

Right?

National customer service week, which Congress declared in 1992, is to commemorate and recognize the diligent, hardworking, and dedicated individuals and their efforts to provide customer satisfaction.

Yet according to an article from sfgate.com, the service isn't adequate enough.

The article states that 11 percent of cell phone customers took their business elsewhere because of poor service, 12 percent of wireline phone customers, 14 percent of bank customers, 15 percent of people with Internet accounts, and drumroll please... an astonishing 18 percent of retail customers.

As for someone who has some "expertise" in customer service, I understand why lousy service has been given.

I cannot reckon how many times customers have screamed at the top of their lungs because they wanted to sit at a different table. Or that time a customer shouted obscenities to me and my fellow co-workers because he couldn't wait 45 minutes. Oh, and I definitely can't forget the time a mayor threw his business card at me, thinking that would abbreviate his wait time.

Don't be mistaken, I don't condone poor service, but I do understand both sides, as a consumer and provider.

So the next time you go out to eat, think twice about constantly hounding your waiter, or you might just find a delightful surprise in your drink, courtesy of customer service.

Story by Michaela Domer

Its election time and like a time-honored ritual, the American public can only expect scandal to surface. Whether it’s within the Democratic or Republican parties, it never fails that a government representative should fall suspect to the unflattering spotlight.

This time it is Congressman Mark Foley, a Republican from Florida who has served six terms in the House of Representatives. He has been accused of having inappropriate contact via e-mail and instant messaging with male congressional pages. But it wasn’t until these transcribed communications surfaced that Foley resigned from his position, and dashed off to rehab.

As major newspapers and many 24-hour news networks go into deeper analysis as to what really occurred, it seems as though this scandal is all anyone can really talk about. Thus, causing Republican’s to worry about the backlash against their party, come voting time on Nov. 7.

According to an article on msn.com, FBI case against Foley explores legal 'gray area': Making a federal case out of sexually charged e-mail could prove difficult, retired FBI agent Ken Lanning whom served as an expert on child exploitation for the agency has his own take on this case.

“There are going to be some issues here in the gray area,” Lanning said referring to the extent of the charges that Foley could face. “You may find this behavior repulsive, offensive or immoral. Whether it’s a violation of law will be based on a precise reading of the law.”

Furthermore, the article details how Foley is currently undergoing treatment for alcohol abuse while the FBI investigates the extent of Foley’s relationship with former congressional pages. It is this substance abuse that he is being treated for which is being linked to his inappropriate conversations.

So worry not America, Foley’s seeking help, therefore he will be ‘healed’ once he is done with his rehab treatment.

While rehabilitations have proven successful in the past, it doesn’t always guarantee that people won’t revert back to their old bad habits.

But isn’t it interesting how when something of this caliber comes up in the media, whether it is a congressperson or celebrity, they seek treatment to ‘cure’ them of their wrong doings?

Then suddenly society is supposed to accept their wrong doings because they weren’t in the right state of mind, thus passing on the message that if they or any other member of society is intoxicated their behavior is excusable.

So as the media and FBI continue their conquest for the truth. Foley will be seeking help -- as the rest of America watches the saga play out until after the elections when this story fades away into the pages of history.

Story by Kimberly Castillo

Every last Friday of the month, bicyclists around the city congregate at Justin Herman Plaza for a local phenomenon known as Critical Mass, to protest the use of gas-guzzling, pollution-causing, ozone-depleting cars. September 29th was the 15th anniversary of this tradition.

Thousands of bikers made up of families, punks, hipsters, hippies and everything in between took off for an evening ride through downtown - their main goal being to give motorists pause and make them think about how terrible they are for supporting the oil war through driving.

But the bicyclists aren't all peaceful protesters. Many of them were downing beers and flipping off car drivers. Intersections were blocked for up to five minutes while bikes circled around in a self-righteous merry-go-round.

One regular, whose bike is is the group's unofficial mascot, fashioned to look like a fish with scales made of cd's, provided ambient music that blasted hits like "La Bamba" and "Hit the Road Jack".

As the group approached Pier 39, tourists took pictures as the bicyclist whooped and hollered through the street. Fellow bikers encouraged each other when they tackled tough hills. Over all it gave a sense of community to a group that is often marginalized in the city.

Bikers bike for many reasons: for one, maybe they can't afford cars and two, bikes are better for the environement. And really all they get in return is agressive drivers that nearly run them over and double-park in their designated lanes.

Yet for all their eco-friendly rhetoric, the traffic jams they cause sure do hold up traffic.

One cyclist, Asella Donovan Blood, 23, noted, "It kinda creates more pollution in a way..."

As the group headed down Market Street through the Tenderloin, one biker heckled a car full of guys who were fed up with the hold-up. The guys jumped out of their car and started pounding the biker (who was probably wasted). Suddenly an avalanche of bikers started shoving the guys back. The driver reached into his glove compartment and somebody shouted "He's got a gun!"

Bikers dispersed like ants and the car screeched off into the night.

The bikers where startled but they trudged onward to their destination - a pub in the mission to celebrate their journey.

The city had tolerated their monthly wrath once again. They were victorious.

Story by Aaron Morrison

So, the Westfield San Francisco opened downtown. Whoopteedoo!

Another reason for staunchly materialistic people to pretend as if they didn’t just spend this month’s electric bill money on Juicy Couture. Another reason for broke students to become broker. Another reason, or rather excuse, for President Robert Corrigan to perhaps style and profile for his political friends.

Mayor Gavin Newsom was there. And that “Shriver lady” showed up. But what was Corrigan really doing there? The extension of San Francisco State University at the Westfield doesn’t open until early next year.

But why pontificate when you can walk right up and ask him?

Corrigan happened to be sitting down on cheesy, retro mall furniture enclosed by red velvet rope. That rope separated the “common folk” from the wealthy public figures, Westfield executives, and “FTE” reporters who were invited to take part in the inclusive yet exclusive opening ceremony.

Corrigan sat, legs crossed, studying a note card as if he was preparing to speak during the ceremony. And he didn’t. Was there a particular new development regarding the extension of the university? Corrigan said there wasn’t, also admitting that the walls had not yet been put up where the extension is to be housed.

Realizing where this line of questioning was going, Corrigan began rambling about the Westfield and how it’s an Australian company, blah blah blah. This effectively turned off any desire to entertain further conversation. However, one can’t leave empty handed from such a rare encounter with the university president.

Many students often admit that they don’t even know what the president looks like. Our estranged president is arguably the least social university president in the California State University system. But it’s clear he’s social enough to rub shoulders with the “important folk.”

Fret not, friends. This is our president at the mall, taken with a digital camera, paparazzo style! Enjoy.