"The Wicker Man": Terrible Enough To Reach Cult Status?

Cheesy music, an after-school special-feeling, a bug-eyed Nicolas Cage running around the forest looking drugged … “The Wicker Man” had it all. Especially, if by “all,” you mean “every unintentional comedy aspect a movie needs to eventually become a possible cult classic in the future.”

The initial scene is very strange, and the choice of director Neil LaBute to film it in such a confusing manner—and then return to it multiple times without every truly explaining what happened—sets the tone for a movie with more holes than the Dean Dome during a UNC-Dook game. With a woman and her child (or not) struck by an 18-wheeler (or not), this is too pivotal scene for LaBute to choose to gloss over.

Yet initially at least, Cage is goofy, awkward and odd enough to pull off his role as California highway patrol cop Edward Malus. As a loner who is devastated over the accident involving the woman and child, he is pitiful. But then he receives a letter from a long-lost love who begs for his help in finding her lost daughter on an island in the Puget Sound. When he arrives and attempts to enter the secretive, strange commune of Summersisle, his efforts to locate the child are thwarted at every turn. In this village populated by several sets of twins and citizens with crazy eyes, Malus keeps hearing hissing shadows and blurs of a child running away. After she leaves him a mysterious note, Malus finds his former fiancé, Willow (a pretty, troubled Kate Beahan), but she doesn’t tell him that the girl, Rowan, is his daughter until 45 minutes into the movie. With some not-so-subtle stutters, stammering and tortured faces, Willow immediately calls into question whether or not she is somehow involved in Rowan’s disappearance.

When Malus is provided with some mead, we are left to wonder if it is poisoned, since everyone makes an unexplained, strange face when he drinks it. Then he kills a bee by smashing it with the mead glass, and the horrified reaction by the townsfolk tip us off that bees and honey hold lofty status within this commune. The omnipresence of bees and beekeepers is made more of a major plot point due to the fact that Cage happens to be extremely allergic, even carrying vials of adrenalin with him everywhere he goes.

Among the numerous not-so-believable, troublesome aspects of the film and its plot points are the fact that Malus and Willow keep making references to how many years it’s been since Willow ended their relationship and returned to the commune of her youth … yet if Rowan is only five or six years old, it couldn’t have been too, too long ago. The perception is that we are supposed to believe that they have been apart for quite a long time, but the presence of Rowan and the reality of her age destroy that idea quickly. Malus acts drugged (I figger Cage must have been drugged to not only act in this one, but produce it) and hallucinatory throughout much of the movie, but it is never detailed whether or not he is seeing or imagining things at times or whether some of the strange events are actually taking place. There are too many other odd occurrences and unexplained events for me to detail, but suffice it to say that this flick sort of goes off the track at several different times.

Ellen Burstyn (“I am the spiritual heart of this colony”) is very good as Sister Summersisle, and the scene in the classroom in the middle of the woods strikes the desired chord of horror and creepiness. The actual legend of the Wicker Man; finding the crow in Rowan’s desk; the "neo-pagan," female-dominated nature of the commune; the shivers-inducing twin harpies; the beauty of the landscape transposed against the awful secrets of its inhabitants; the references to ancient rituals and roots in Salem witchdom; and the jarring nature of some of the accident scenes and visions all play well in the horror theme of this film. However, when the highlight of the flick is when Malus punches a woman directly in the face, you know that you’ve found a movie with some head-shaking issues and obstacles that are hard to overcome.

This is a movie without a true identity—it is as if LaBute decided to put “Stepford Wives,” “Pleasantville” and “Children of the Corn” in a blender, added a dash of Nathaniel Hawthorne, sprinkled a bit of M. Night Shyamalan on top and wanted to see what came out at the end. Begrudgingly, I admit that Malus’s final scene was creepy, echoing similar revelations as the ones that accompanied “Planet of the Apes” at the end. Yet the question becomes and remains whether you can take movies that range from “Planet of the Apes” to “Scarlet Letter” to “Children of the Corn” to “Pleasantville” to “The Village” to “Stepford Wives” and expect anything coherent or satisfying to emerge.

Even the final scene, involving Willow and Sister Honey (a naturally creepy LeeLee Sobieski), leaves some questions up in the air. Is Sister Honey continuing the horrific tradition of the commune? Or do the tears in her eyes and the sweat on her brow indicate that she is trying to break free?

This is one of those flicks where the preview is better than the movie, as evidenced by the popularity of the 35-year-old original, British version of the film as a cult classic. I wasn’t aware that this was a remake until after I watched it (apparently, there was a rather humorous and memorable scene involving Britt Ekland that was sadly not replicated by Beahan in this one), but after seeing the potential this movie had to be a good fit in the horror genre, I wasn’t all that surprised. In fact, a sequel to the 1973 version had been slated to begin shooting in Scotland this spring, but was scrapped in April.

The credits were kicked off with the line, “For Johnny Ramone.” I’m not sure what message it sends that such a crappy flick would be dedicated to the legendary guitarist of the Ramones (reportedly, Cage and Johnny were good friends), but I do know that Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam wrote the song “Life Wasted” while returning from Ramone’s funeral. And that makes sense to me in a full-circle kind of way, because when “The Wicker Man” ended, I found myself humming, “Time wasted …”

F’ing Matt Harding Stole My Dream Job

Matt Harding might be my hero.

Here’s a guy who basically was a drifter who decided to take the last of his money and see how far around the world it would take him. Then he said, “How cool would it be if I could film myself dancing in various parts of the planet?” After he posted such a video, he began getting more than 20,000 hits per day on his server, and his original video became the #30 most-watched in its channel on YouTube.

It didn’t long for someone to notice that this viral marketing concept was an insanely clever idea. Stride Gum got involved, and began sponsoring and paying for Matt’s trips around the Earth. The popularity of the concept even gave Matt the opportunity to lecture on the videos and his subsequent fame at Champlain College in Burlington, Vt. (predictably, he was then filmed dancing with the students afterward).

His site, Where the Hell is Matt, posted a countdown to his third video (above), which was released on June 20. For comparison’s sake, his original is below.

He’s been nearly overrun by elephants, got jiggy with it in zero-gravity, taunted death by popping out a modified Cabbage Patch in a demilitarized zone in Korea, swam-danced near large-ish sea creatures without grumping his pants and was nearly crushed by a wave in Tonga. The third video includes a bit more audience participation, has some variation in dance styles (the flourish in India freaking killed me) and features some places that I’ve been recently. He filmed it over 14 months, in 42 different countries ... for free.

So now this guy gets someone to pay (a gum company, no less) so he can travel the world, embrace various cultures and dance like a jackleg. All while avoiding any aspect of work.

Ferris Bueller was once my hero. But now it’s Matt Harding. God bless America.

R.I.P. Gallo ... July 18, 2001-June 17, 2008

It is harder than I ever thought it would be to write the words that we had to put Gallo to sleep last night.

Hopefully, in a day or a week or a month, I’ll be able to write something a little more poignant and emotional about my boy. But right now I just don’t have it. For now, as those of you know who’ve followed our struggles along here, I’ll lean on my habit of trying to content myself with writing about it in an effort to find some peace and solace in relating what happened.

G’Lo had gotten sick after work, but we chalked it up to him running around outside in the heat, drinking too much water too quickly and being over-excited. He went on a walk, played in the backyard and had plenty of energy through the evening. However, something seemed to be nagging at me in the middle of the night, and I woke up to Gallo panting somewhat heavily. I walked with him into the kitchen to see if he wanted any water, but he went past the bowl and to the back door, wanting to be let out.

As I normally do, I let him out on the back deck and into the backyard and waited for him in the kitchen. When he didn’t come back for a long time, I went outside to see what was going on. I looked over the deck railing and saw him just laying in the grass, a breeze blowing around him. He looked up at me and the bottom of my heart fell out. Not only was it unlike G to just lay on the ground like that, but he would normally come racing up the steps to me when he saw me. I had to call him a couple of times to get him to come up the stairs and inside.

When he walked directly to his dog blankets and laid down, still panting, I knew something was severely wrong. Yet inside, I knew that calling the vet would likely mean ending his life, for we had been told that if another tumor attacked Gallo, there was basically nothing left that we could do. But he was slow to respond and lethargic, and we had no choice but to call our vet. We were told that there was no one on staff that late at night, so we were recommended to the NC State Vet School Emergency Hospital, and our vet would call ahead to alert them of our arrival.


On the drive there, I sat in the back seat with G’Lo, and he put his head on my leg and tried to sleep. His breathing slowed so severely that there was one point when I wondered if he had passed. But when we got to the vet school, he jumped out of the car, got on the leash and walked with us to the locked door to the emergency area. He laid down on the pavement, however, as we waited to be let inside, a sure sign that his energy was flagging alarmingly.

After filling out some papers and letting G be taken back for examination, a doctor came out to let us know that they had found some fluid in his chest cavity. They had every reason to believe it was blood, but pending calling in a radiologist, they couldn’t be positive. If we called in a radiologist, that would be setting us on a decision course to allow another emergency surgery on Gallo. But we agreed that we couldn’t put our little guy through yet another surgery, and it was simply his time. We had done all we could do for him, and as hard as it was for us to give up the fight we had waged with him for four months, there was no other choice to make.

While they put a catheter in Gallo to boost his energy somewhat, they placed us in a “quiet room” to wait for him and say our goodbyes. He came in and immediately laid down on the cold floor, so we sat near him and held his head and petted him and whispered in his ear and covered him with love. After a few minutes, the doctor came in to administer the overdose that would stop his heart, and she told us during each step of the process exactly what she was doing and what his reaction would be. G’Lo wagged his tail a final few times as we petted him again, and as the drug was flushed through his tube, we could feel his breathing slow, and then the moment when his spirit left his body. It was at about 1:15 in the morning, and it had been almost exactly four months since the day when he was diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma and a little more than five weeks after his last emergency surgery, when we took him off chemotherapy. We were told that we could pay a little extra to have G cremated, so we could spread his ashes wherever we would like, and we elected to do that.

We left and walked down the quiet, antiseptic hallways and drove home in near-silence, numb. It was like a bad dream, and even though it was a moment we knew was inevitable and had been trying our best to prepare for for months, it still didn’t seem real. On the way home, I drove us by the home where Gallo (and I, in many ways) grew up, gazing upon it in the middle of the night and reliving some memories. We then drove on and went inside our own house, stood around for a while and wondered what we were supposed to do next. We said a brief prayer for Gallo to join his friends Cleo and Foster and Dudley and Lucy in the great open field in the sky, we took a couple of shots and toasted the “Miracle Dog,” and we laughed and cried as we remembered certain moments. We especially spoke fondly of our recent journey to the Outer Banks, and how our decision to have the last emergency surgery had allowed us to enjoy one last great trip with our little big boy, and how that had made it all worthwhile ... to see him with his nose in the air, smelling the salt drifting all around him, framed by the glow of a sunset.


We went to bed and stared at the ceiling for hours. And for the first time in seven years, I woke up without G-boy licking my hand, staring at me and wagging his tail … my own personal alarm clock was truly gone. Reality set in hard when I had to make calls to my family that Gallo had passed.

That numb feeling is still there, and I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to do next. Being a writer, it’s rare that I’m out of words, but that’s where I am. I miss him already and I’m sure I’ll spend a lot of time in the near future thinking I saw his shadow. He was the best part of me for several years, and he helped me become what I hope is a better person in the course of our seven years together.

Thank you as always for all of you who have sent your kind thoughts and words our way. They helped and they will forever be remembered.

"The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long ... and you have burned so very, very brightly ..."

“Blood Diamond” Shows Difference Between Bling-Bling and Bling-Bang

If you can get past Leonardo di Caprio’s painful British accident, “Blood Diamond” strikes a chord, resonating as “Last King of Scotland” on steroids. With intense combat scenes, heart-pounding drama and gruesome images that remind us of a reality not much different than the one depicted on the screen, this film makes you squirm less from the violence as from the idea that such actions and plotlines are likely taking place daily in that part of the world.

The Sierra Leone of a decade ago shines as an uncredited member of the cast, with striking beauty overridden by a bloody past and a future full of hopelessness. In this setting, Solomon Vandy (Djimon Hounsou) endures his village being attacked and his family being taken away by the rebels, who enslave him instead of cutting off his arms. Vandy is put to work sifting through the river for diamonds, and he stumbles upon an enormous pink diamond. He is caught attempting to hide the diamond when the commandant of the rebel forces catches him, but just then, government forces attack, overrunning the rebel camp and giving Vandy time to bury the diamond. However, the commandant survives the assault, and when he is placed in the same jail as Vandy, he offers a huge reward to the others in the jail if they can find out where Vandy hid the priceless diamond. That’s when diCaprio comes on the scene as Danny Archer, an African-born smuggler. Placed in the same jail cell as Vandy, he overhears the talk of the rare diamond, which helps him hatch a plan to free Vandy and hunt down the prize.

Director Edward Zwick then introduces socially conscious journalist Maddy Bowen to serve as Archer’s conscience and love interest. In this role, Jennifer Connelly somehow pulls off the ever-so-rare feat of looking really hot even as she’s trudging through a jungle, bypassing showers and facing torture at the hands of crazed rebels. She challenges Archer’s motives, and when she is introduced to Vandy, she takes it upon herself to track down where Vandy’s family has been detained. When they finally find his wife and daughter, Vandy is told that his son, Dia, has been indoctrinated into the rebel army, taught to cast morality aside and kill and plunder without a second thought. With Archer forcing him to chase the diamond, Vandy only wants to find his son and rescue him from a meaningless life of blood-lust and certain death.

Vandy eventually finds his son, who has adopted the symbolic rebel name of See Me No More, but when he approaches him, he is not recognized as his father and is called a traitor, which lands him right back where he started—enslaved, face down in the river, looking for diamonds. He again falls under the rule of the commandant, who tells him, “You think I am the devil. But only because I have lived in hell. I want to get out. You will help me.”

Without giving away the ending, there are some wonderful touches down the stretch from Zwick, highlighted by a tremendous scene between father and son as Vandy attempts to hammer down the emotionless walls created by the rebels to break through to the child he once knew, before Dia pulls the trigger on Archer. The scene of the conference that displays Vandy’s role on the global stage in helping to raise awareness and curb the trading of conflict diamonds is also very powerful.

But there were certainly a few somewhat troublesome aspects of the flick. In such an enormous region, the sheer number of coincidences and just-at-the-nick-of-time occurrences are a little off-putting. Also, it seems to be a little much to think that a diamond company—Van de Kamp—would own an army and perpetrate such horrors in order to dominate the Sierra Leone diamond market, but then again, who knows in this world. Plus, Archer’s call to Bowen on the sat phone at the end feels a tad predictable, although it was probably necessary in the course of resolution.

And finally, Archer’s role as the mercenary with a heart of gold seems somewhat fabricated. Is the audience supposed to like him or not? The viewer is pulled in several directions in trying to determine Archer’s true character, which is useful in reflecting the uncertainty of the region, but head-scratching in the sense that there are enough emotions being played to in the movie without being reduced to confusion and ambivalence toward the dominant character. The idea that he can be vindicated so easily at the end (apparently), comes across as a trifle forced.

Yet at the end, it eventually becomes apparent that this is not a movie about diamonds; it is a film about T.I.A.: “This Is Africa.” A line repeated a few times within the flick, this sentiment seems to cover all that takes place in this continent borne and sustained of blood and violence. In its essence, “Blood Diamond” was actually about the heartlessness, destroyed lives, robbed childhoods and stolen souls involved in the creation of child soldiers who are forced to continue the horrific, traditional cycle of Africa.

Just prior to the credits rolling, the most revealing aspect of the movie comes across in the form of words: “There are still 200,000 child soldiers in Africa.” A short, simple, to-the-point sentence that says everything you need to know about “Blood Diamond.” This movie was very well-done and well worth checking out … but it narrowly missed the mark of its own point.

Limerick Friday LXXXII: “Hey, Smoke Up, Johnny”

Pot potency is higher than ever, it appears
THC content has doubled in the last 25 years
Stock for Cheetos and Funyuns is certain to sore
Mr. Short-Term Memory will have company, for sure
Bob Marley just rolled over in his grave, in tears

A Lake Show collapse for the ages
A choke job that took place in stages
In the first quarter, a 24-point Los Angeles lead
The third quarter began to show the Lakers bleed
Just hope Kobe doesn’t resort to rape as he rages

The attacks have begun from the Republican side
McCain eats dinner at 3:30 and then becomes snide
And that’s how vicious lies become spread
The media degenerates into he said, she said
Now Obama has to show the truth to everyone that lied

Another extra-inning defeat for my Mets
A huge payroll has become just another mess
Stealing defeat from the jaws of victory
Is the stain on Willie Randolph’s Mets history
It’ll be time to empty your office, Willie, in a week or less

As if the sweltering heat weren’t enough
Next we’re dealing with this pesky smoky stuff
A wildfire started in the east as if on cue
Now everything smells like a freaking barbecue
A Code Red could make going outside pretty rough

Last time ...

“We Own the Night” Fades Into Predictability, Stereotypes

Twice in the movie “We Own the Night,” Joaquin Phoenix’s character is asked, “Why do you have to go? Where are you going?” The repeated identical lines are symbolic of the drifting, directionless, purposeless life being lived by the black sheep of a generational police family. Phoenix is great as always as a nightclub owner battling the reality of the drug scene vs. the reality that his brother and father are both decorated, respected cops. His father, played by the epic Robert Duvall, tells him, “Sooner or later, you’re going to be with us or you’re going to be with the drug dealers. Because it’s like a war out there. Now do you understand that? Do you?” This sets the scene for a dramatic series of events that unveil a solid plot, but can’t save this film from sinking into cliché.

Phoenix, living under the alias of “Bobby Green” to distance himself from his ties to the authorities, is almost a caricature of the “bad son.” He casually jumps over a pew in church, makes out with Eva Mendes (opening scene … wow) during a moment of silence and walks out on a celebration for his brother, who is making an acceptance speech after being made captain. Yet Green also seems to have a kind heart, so some of the lack of decorum and respect seems forced and contrived.

I’m sure that Wahlberg is considered a solid actor in some quarters, but I find it extraordinary difficult to take him seriously. Something about him being “Marky Mark” at one point makes it sort of hard for me to consider him a serious Hollywood player. Anyway, he is fine, if a little too understated, as the older brother. When he is shot at close range and nearly killed and then Duvall dies while chasing a Russian drug runner, it is a little too predictable to see his younger brother, Phoenix, find his life’s purpose, first as an undercover rogue and then as an official policeman. The choice between Phoenix becoming a cop and losing his relationship with Mendes is completely glossed over, but at that point of the movie, things had sort of fallen off the tracks anyway.

Director James Gray employs the tired old bitter-criminal-somehow-escapes-from-prison-to-take-revenge-on-those-who-put-him-there plot twist, to complete frustration and disappointment for the viewer who thought this one was burgeoning into a unique flick. An hour into the film, it looks like it is winding up, which is when the questionable plot choices begin. Gray also turns to the fade-to-black technique way too often, and the atmosphere and backdrop doesn’t ring true. The movie is supposed to take place in the late 1980s, but it appears as if the director and producers wanted it to pass for the 1970s.

There are some very memorable moments as well, though. When Phoenix’s character is taken to a drug den, a bag is put over his head to keep him from remembering the way, and part of the scene is shot through the bag itself, complete with heavy breathing revealing his nervousness. Later, as Phoenix is led down a hallway, it slowly disappears into black as he slowly follows, building the tension. Add in a shocking shotgun blast scene to the head and there are enough intriguing spots within the movie to catch your attention.

Several quotes also stood out, for various reasons. “When you piss in your pants, you can only stay warm for so long” and “Better to be judged by 12 than carried by six” are two that combine humor with the gravity of certain points of the flick. When Phoenix is told, “Your life is in that lighter. Good luck.” as he embarks on his undercover task, it is literal; the lighter eventually led to events that wound up leading him to the police department, where he found his life and way. When the Russian is in the back of the cop car and mutters, “He’s a dead man,” it is also literal in many ways because who Phoenix’s character was died when he dove out the window to escape the sting, and his new life as a policeman was effectively born.

Phoenix and Wahlberg produced this movie as well as acted in it, and the combination of Phoenix and Duval, phenomenal as a past-his-prime cop, carries it for quite a while. Controversial Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban was one of the executive producers, however, and one would think he could throw Dirk Nowitzki a bone with a role as one of the Russian gangsters. The smokeout scene near the end is a good one, but it is difficult to discern what Phoenix says as he captures the bad guy, and the final scene is well done, going away from some of the cliché-ridden choices that had riddled some of the other parts of the movie.

All in all, I was expecting a little more, but this flick lost me with some seemingly lazy decisions in the middle of the movie, along with a too-quickly-tied-up resolution. Any film with Phoenix and Duvall is going to be more than worth checking out, but don’t expect anything revolutionary from this one.

*Just for fun, this video includes French subtitles. Oui.

"Endless Summer" Meets "American History X"

This looks pretty damn interesting ...

Limerick Friday LXXXI: Backing the Pack While Honoring RFK

A super regional for the upstart Wolfpack
Avent’s crew has been on the right track
It’ll be tough going to Georgia to play the Dawgs
To beat them gotta turn those bats into logs
The road to Omaha starts at noon for the Pack attack

Obama is the choice as the nominee
Can he unite the Democrats? We’ll see
People tired of Hillary’s politico game
Wanted change instead of more of the same
But we know that McCain’s tactics will be dirty

It’s NBA Finals time on ABC
No one cares, or is just me?
Lakers-Celtics used to be a freaking war
Now it’s just another reason to snore
Pretty bad when a guy goes from rapist to MVP

Ted Kennedy was awake when they cut on his brain
Gives me the willies to think of that potential pain
He would’ve been a prez if it wasn’t for that damn bridge
Chappaquiddick might ruin a career, just a smidge
Should’ve had a brain transplant back then to explain

Forty years since Robert Kennedy was taken away
Many who were there say that hope died that day
He was the best of what his brothers did so well
Without the worst parts of them, before he fell
A hero of mine before my time, I’m not ashamed to say

Last time …

Sometimes The Good Side Wins

Today I regained a little faith in our country.

Today is a good day.

We'll see how long it lasts ...

June Update: G’Lo Hits The Beach

Many kind folks have continued to ask about Gallo, so I thought I’d provide a brief update on him. Our little guy continues to heal from the incision he still has from his emergency surgery on May 9. The week following that surgery, we had to make sure he didn’t try to run too much (which was surprisingly difficult; he had a lot of energy at times) while keeping an eye on a number of symptoms. Perhaps his biggest challenge was the fact that he was dealing with the after-effects of his chemotherapy at the same time that he was facing the after-effects of emergency surgery and having a quarter of his liver removed. So needless to say, he had a lot on his plate.

We thought that no one had earned a trip to the beach more than G-boy, so we had planned on taking him down to the Outer Banks a week after his surgery. To get him cleared for such a trip, we took him to the vet on the morning of May 16 on our way out of town. They checked his blood work, and since his blood count had risen to a level higher than it was before he got sick, he was cleared for some more running and jumping. Upon our departure, he said goodbye to his doctor and the vet techs who have worked so closely with him over the past three months. Since we had ended his chemotherapy treatment (it obviously wasn’t working if they found a tumor on the same day he had his chemo), Gallo didn’t need to go back for three month. I have to say that it was a little bit of an emotional moment since everyone at our vet clinic had grown pretty attached to G’Lo.

After the goodbyes, we continued on to Nags Head. When we arrived and trekked down to the beach, we had to put a shirt on G to make sure that he didn’t get any sand in his incision, but he didn’t seem to mind too much. He loved running along the shoreline with me and darting into the water every now and again. He got a bit tired after a while (which is understandable considering he was still building up his strength), but he had plenty of water and we eventually took him back to our beachhouse.


However, on a down side, we noticed that there were a few cysts or growths running along Gallo’s incision line last week. We didn’t think it was anything serious, but to be on the safe side, we brought Gallo into the vet on Friday afternoon (May 30). After checking him out, our doctor said that Gallo had acquired an infection at the base of his incision, but it wasn’t serious and he looked very good otherwise. The infection was related to the fact that he has no fatty layer underneath the operated-on skin, so it was basically one flap of skin laying on top of another, and when he licked or bit at it, it got wet, which led to an infection. He was prescribed some antibiotics and some medicinal wipes to clean the incision twice a day. The incision still itches him, so we have to watch him closely and he has to wear a couple of shirts when we leave for work … but the good news is that the infection appears to be clearing up and the incision continues to heal.

I am fortunate to have found a better company with a new position that allows me to work the majority of my time from home, so I am able to spend more time with Gallo these days. He’s still doing great, though somewhat strangely, the hair around his nose and chin appears to be growing back — while hair around his knee-bows and neck look like they’re falling out. Odd, and even our doctor is a little mystified. Then again, nothing has been completely normal or by the book with G’Lo.

Anyway, we obviously know that nothing is guaranteed and Gallo’s prognosis is still dire in the next few months. But it is good to be near and around him as much as possible these days. He continues to eat heartily and go flying after sticks and tearing around the house when he’s playing, so he is happy. And that is good enough for all of us.

Thanks as always for the many kind thoughts that have been sent G’s way.


UPDATE, June 5, 2008: Just as we were beginning to wean Gallo off a few medications, we're back to adding them. At about 4 in the morning or so, G got sick a couple of times in the house. Then, about half an hour later, he was nauseous again. So we called the vet, who surmised that G'Lo was likely having a gastrointestinal reaction to the antibiotics. So she added three more medications and a different food to his routine, and I picked all these items up very early this morning. However, if he gets sick again, he'll need to be hospitalized today, which is slightly alarming. The good news is that he ate all of his food this morning rather quickly, so hopefully the nausea has passed and we can handle it with an adjusted diet and some medications. Since I can work from home, I'll be able to keep an eye on him today, which is a good thing.

Short Round Meets Dwight In The Japanese "Office"?

Too damn funny. The looks from Jim are freaking perfect.