The Dobrindt Family

News Stories

Whenever I hear or read a news story, I usually have a quick initial thought or reaction. I don’t stop, get all the facts, analyze the possible scenarios and then come up with an educated point of view. Not me. I react. Here are some examples of stories that I read or heard about today.

1. Headline: Bomb kills 20 at Pakistan shrine
Recap: Apparent homicide bomb detonated Friday as hundreds of Shiite Muslims recited verses from the Koran during a religious festival at a shrine near Pakistan's capital, killing at least 20 people and wounding dozen.
My first thought: Tragic. Innocent lives lost. I wonder how the media is going to blame Bush for this one.

2. Headline: Suspect refuses to budge from atop Atlanta crane
Recap: Ignoring pleas from police negotiators to surrender to authorities, a suspect in a Florida slaying on Friday remained atop an 18-story construction crane for a second day.
My first thought: Shoot him down.

3. Headline: Inquiry by U.S. Finds 5 Cases of Koran Mistreatment.
Recap: An American military inquiry has uncovered five instances in which guards or interrogators at the Guantánamo Bay detention facility in Cuba mishandled the Koran.
My first thought: Don’t we have more important things to worry about?

4. Headline: Jackson accuser video Okd
Recap: The judge in Jackson's child molestation trial ruled prosecutors may show a video of his alleged victim being interviewed by police.
My first thought: Is that thing still going on?

American Idol - Season 4 Finale

I watched American Idol last night. The biggest flaw, well, maybe not the biggest, is that they don’t show the actual results. I would like to know the margin of victory of Trisha Yearwood over Chris Robinson. And I saw again that this crop, and all crops other than the first season, are marginally good. Let’s review the previous winners and runners up.

Season three. Winner was Fantasia Barrino. Terrible. Sounds like a young child trying to scream as loud as they can to bug the living crap out of their siblings. In fact, a screaming child probably sounds better. Like listening to a baby seal being clubbed to death, without the bloody mess.

Runner up was Diana DeGarmo, which I can’t remember a thing about. Surprise there.

Season two. Winner was the giant fat black guy, Ruben Studdard. While Fantasia winning made a mockery of the show, Ruben winning started the joke. Nothing against his style, but if he is the best this country can produce, then maybe pop singers are not our thing. England actually does it much better as shown by my brother-in-law’s obsession with bubble gum pop music when he lived there. And my brother-in-law makes George Bush look like a left wing socialist mamby pamby.

The runner up was the delicate flower Clay Aiken. Again, nothing against this guy, but Michael Bolton and Kenny G at least had some talent. Please shoot me for saying that. But if you want to be the soft, sensitive, wimpy girls-best-friend kind, at least have a voice like Barry Manilow or sex appeal like Neil Diamond. Please shoot me now for saying THAT.

Season One. Winner was Kelly Clarkson. Kelly, Clarkson. When she won the whole thing, I thought American Idol was a winner. This girl has got a great voice and a little bit of visual appeal. I might get beat up for this, but she really can sing. She continues to do pretty good stuff and if she were a little more attractive would be a huge success. Saying the other winners had the same amount of talent as Kelly Clarkson is like saying all countries in the UN have the same amount of influence as the US. As much as Cameroon might like to believe they have an equal voice, it’s just not true. Kelly Clarkson is the only American Idol winner to have any real chance at being a sustained pop idol.

Runner up was poor Justine Guarini. This guy’s 15 minutes of fame ended with a screeching halt. Wonder why? Could it be that he has no talent and he got as far because of his hair, which, by the way, he has cut off and looks like a parolee. The only redeeming quality in this guy was that he tried to move to Broadway and didn’t subject the world to any more attempts at radio.

The show last night was 1 hour, 55 minutes of total nonsense, 1 minute of announcing the winner, then an awkward few minutes of people on stage and a quiet audience. It was strange. It’s like the kid in high school who wins the ‘Most School Spirited’ award on senior night. It was like she won a cupcake for being the most caring Care Bear or something. And while I sat through the rest of the show to torment the horizonless landscape which I call my life, I realized that the best part of the series was anything but the ending. With Survivor, the end brings some closure. With American Idol, kind of like the Apprentice, the end left me feeling flat and empty.

And one other thing. No one wants to hear these people sing original songs. We want to hear them do renditions of songs that we all know so that we have something to compare it to. Listening to BoBi or Trisha sing something they made up while sitting on the crapper means nothing to me. It forces me to use the 30 second skip-ahead feature on my DVR remote control.

I say, like Brian from Watertown, let the audience vote off the worst person each week. Show the results. And bring in a panel of true experts, not just the three judges, to make a decision before they open up the voting to the general public. Oh, ha, before I forget. Why in the world did they bring that heavy black girl on to sing the national anthem? It was almost cruel. She obviously can’t sing and not only did the show totally embarrass her once during the season, they replayed it again last night and then paraded her out on the stage all dressed up to butcher that song again. What’s next, take a blind kid out on stage and throw baseballs at him? Maybe take a mentally handicapped person out and make them answer difficult trivia questions. It was awful, cruel and mean and the show should be ashamed for doing it.

I usually don’t watch this show until the final 12 or so are involved. I think next season I’ll watch up until the final 12 are chosen. While I think Simon did a much better job this year with being honest and direct with the singers, I find that the end result of the contest is way off the mark for what most people would find fulfilling.

American Idol Finale Tonight

The finale for American Idol is on tonight. I don’t think I have been this excited since I learned that CSPAN3 was re-running a special on UN Reform hosted by the assistant deputy Chief of Staff to the 3rd congressional district rep of Wisconsin.

Mary Kay Letourneau and The Kid

Mary Kay Letourneau got married this past weekend to her longtime boyfriend, Vili. I hear about classic love stories like this all the time and they always get me choked up. It’s the classic tail that we all know…

…teacher seduces 6th grade love interest who is more than 20 years her junior then gets pregnant with his kid even though she is married with 4 of her own kids and gets sent to prison because she can’t keep her paws off the toddler and has a second kid with him a few years later and makes a mockery of her family and finally marries the kid on a tabloid TV show..

..I see it all the time. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about those two love birds living happily ever after in the nut house. Speaking of wedding vows, I can’t help but shed a tear or two when they were exchanged on Access Hollywood. Vows like

Her – I promise to take you to gym class and wait with you until your mother arrives.

Him – I promise to do my homework and not chew gum in class

Her – You are my pupil…er…soul mate and we will be together until the end of time or 7th period.

Him – When you start collecting social security in a couple of years I hope to be old enough to buy you wine.

Her – After puberty I promise to show you how to shave.

Him – Thank you for making me the luckiest person in the world and the object of envy from every boy on my JV soccer team.

Her – I promise to stay by your side through sickness, health and the senior prom.

Him – I vow to sit in the front seat of your car when I am old enough.

Her – When I found you I realized what it means to truly love another without boundaries or what is socially and legally allowed.

Him – Our love will stay true through the countless magical moments we will share together and through the ups and downs like it did through elementary school, junior high, senior high and two stints in the pokey.

I heard their honeymoon is a trip to Washington DC with tours of the White House and a meeting with their congressman. Or maybe that was my senior trip in high school. Either way, congrats to the happy couple and may their journey through adolescents be a happy one.

Phone Call at Work

With the open work space we have in the office, there are not many conversations that are private. For the most part, many of us keep our voices really really low when we are on a private call, or take on our cell phone and move to a quiet area. But I heard this one guy who sits near me have this conversation. This is from his end only. He is a nice guy so I hope he doesn’t mind me making fun of him if he reads this blog at all, which I doubt he does. But if he does, no offense intended.

“Pick up bread and peppers…bread and peppers… bread … and peppers…peppers…bread and peppers…no, bread…and peppers…peppers…PEPPERS…PEPPERS…and bread…bread…BREAD…I didn’t say anything else…bread and peppers…PEPPERS…no, just bread and peppers…pick up some peppers…all different colors…AND BREAD…ok…peppers…bread too…ok, bye.”

Milton Road Race

Before Patti and I had children we used to run about 6 or 8 road races a year. They were either for charity or just for fun. We usually ran 5K races and occasionally did a 10K one with no real hope of coming anywhere near the front of the pack. I guess we could have been competitive if 1) we didn’t go out and drink so much, 2) trained like an Olympian or 3) cared. For us it was a good way to build our cheap T-shirt collection and get free bananas and key chains. But with having two kids we kind of dropped out of the habit.

This past year we made a commitment to run at least 6 races this year. We have some that we are doing for personal reasons (charity) and others that we are doing in the town we live just for fun. Today was race number 1, town of Milton fun race.

We had been training, sort of, so we had no real apprehension with the 5K race. Patti’s mother drove up to watch the kids while Patti and I did the race. We packed up in the car and went to Cunningham Park for this very popular annual race. There were two starting lines, one for the 5K and one for the 10K. Usually the races we run have an equal amount of 5K and 10K participants, but as we kept running into friends and neighbors, we realized that most of the people were running the 10K. The thought briefly crossed our minds to get in line with the 10K nuts, but we have been training mostly on a treadmill and had no idea if a little over 6 miles of running would leave us in stable condition.

So with 5K of course ahead of us, we started off on the race. Since I have a longer stride, but am certainly not in better shape, I usually run faster than Patti. I took off and hit the first mile marker in a little under 8 minutes. I kept the same pace and at the second mile marker was under 16 minutes. The great thing about races like this are that people in the community come out and sit along the course cheering runners on, handing out water, clapping and supporting the event. It’s a blast. For a small, very small, time I feel like a true competitor. I know it’s silly but when police officers stop traffic to let me run a race, it’s kind of a rush. Patti was only a short space behind me and finished the first mile marker at 9:25.

The course was through...

The course was through tree lined streets and had some mild hills. Nothing crazy. At 24:45 I crossed the finish line to a crowd of cheering fans. For Milton, this race is a big event and the finish area was filled with vendors giving out free stuff, families, little kids and a general festive environment. I hooked up with Patti’s mom, the kids, our neighbor who is a Fire Department volunteer and had one of the FD trucks, and other people I know. I waited for Patti to finish, who crossed at a little over 30 minutes, and then we all hung out, eating free yogurt and vitamin water, giving the kids balloons and ice cream and doing what only a few years ago I would have made fun of.

After the 10K runners started coming in, the event coordinator started announcing winners. With events like this they usually have awards for the top three finishers in major categories, like over 65 men, 20-29 women, etc. Since I have as much chance of placing as being elected President, I usually don’t pay attention. But as I was standing in a crowd, playing with the kids, talking to my neighbor, I heard the following…

“In the 30-39 year old category, finishing third among the men…David Dobrindt.”

My head abruptly turned toward the general area of the award platform like they just said Mitt Romney arrived naked on horseback. I must not have heard them right. They announced me. I turned to Patti who was standing with a bunch of other people about 50 feet away and they were all looking at me like it must be a joke. Surely I paid someone to make the announcement. I had placed third. At least in my category. Forget for a moment that there were probably only 3 people total in my category, I placed third.

So after a few seconds of total shock, followed by some good natured ribbing, I went up to get my award. I walked up to the table and told them they called my name. They took a metal on a ribbon and placed it over my head. It was hysterical. I almost expected them to put a laurel wreath on my head, kiss both cheeks and salute my flag.

I asked how many people were in my category and they didn’t know. When I was running I noticed a lot of teenaged girls, old men, a lot of women and pretty much no other 30-something year old men. Well, there were at least 2 others and they finished before me.

I immediately took the ribbon off and made my way back to my group. I got a very sincere hug and congrats from Patti, a few jokes from my neighbor and a bunch of “atta-boy”s from my friends. Later when we were home I put the ribbon on and told Patti I was going to join the circuit to try to make some money running races. She said that I might want to start running the kids races so that I would at least place first.

I know if I ran the 10K race I would have been in the bottom 3. But for the first time since I started running these races, I had something other than a tight XL t-shirt and meaningless coupons from local merchants to show for it.

Saddam Hussein's Underwear

I see London I see France, I see Saddam’s underpants.
I see Scotland I see Spain, I see a the media about to complain.

Someone took, and then obviously sold, pictures of Saddam Hussein in his underseats and other personal images. I am counting off on my fingers the number of seconds it is going to take the liberal lunatics out there to condemn George Bush for orchestrating this travesty.

Now I hear Al Jazeera, the Middle Eastern version of CNN, is refusing to broadcast the pictures because they are a violation of human rights. WHAT?!? HUH?!!? Are you (expletive deleted) KIDDING ME?? You run in a continuous loop the beheading of innocent captives by violent terrorists but you stand on this human rights box when it’s a picture of your lovely dictator sleeping in his feety PJs. You, Mr. Al Jazeera, are a freakin joke. Saying they are a violation of human rights is like Ted Kennedy condemning drinking. And while we’re on the topic, the beheadings are not done quickly and humanely like people think. It’s not a guillotine or really sharp samurai sword they use, it’s a group of thugs holding down some poor human being fighting to get loose while another soon-to-be living-in-hell terrorist saws his head off with a dull and rusty fish knife. It’s an awful and excruciatingly painful way to die and your network airs it like it belongs on Funniest Home Videos. And then you condemn the US for showing, and they weren’t even published here first, pictures of the old man in his underoos. If it was a video of Saddam’s beheading, would Al Jazeera broadcast them? Hmm. I wonder.

And a message to George Bush – STOP APOLOGIZING. Stop saying you are sorry for a stupid action of someone as far removed from your control as humanly possible. And especially don’t apologize for these pictures.

My stapler

I have this stapler at work that uses staples that are too big so that if you staple only 2 or 3 pages, the staple gets compressed but sticks out and can cut your finger, sort of. But it is not strong enough to staple anything more than 5 or 6 pages, which then have to be bound with a binder clip. It’s so damn annoying. And no, it’s not red and my name is not Milton.

Sometimes I feel like I am adrift in a sea of boundless discontent.

My Morning With Emily

If you don't want to hear a story about little kids, then turn away. Otherwise, read on.

I went to Emily’s school today. The school had a “pancake breakfast with your grandparents” day. The pre-school has fund raisers and things like this that I have to fight by cynical dark side and say nice things about. For this event, the kid could bring someone else if a grandparent could not make it. Considering the kids are 3 or so, a lot of grandparents are still in the workforce and probably could not take off. Or like us, both of our parents live very far away. So I went.

I’ll admit it started out a little shaky. I was the first non-child there. Out of 8 kids, 4 ended up having grandparents. I was the only non-grandparent. But for the first 5 minutes or so it was me, my daughter, and 3 other little kids in a room with miniature furniture and thousands of play items. In a room with bright colors, names on cut-out buses on the wall, cubby holes with flowers and a tank with painted snails. The other little kids looked at me, the two people who work there are women, like David Duke at a Black Panther rally. Like Mark Witaker at the GOP fund raiser. Wide-eyed kids starred at me while I tried to pick up plastic fish with a tiny fishing pole and stay within the stencil lines. But two other grandmothers and one set of grandparents made me feel more auspicious about the morning.

Then came what seemed like a very long period of random alone play time, a period where the kids could do whatever they want, which, at least to me, is contrary to the whole “school” thing of learning and education. I was worried that this structured setting was nothing but a prolonged playtime. But one of the teachers then had a session which seemed like it was a normal thing. She had a little lesson and read a couple of books and did things in sign language. It was nice.

Then we went on to the pancakes. It was in the gym of the church and was set up on two tables. The grandparents, and me, sat next to their little ones. I think for some of the other kids pancakes are a rare thing, and at least for one kid something they have never had. For Emily, Patti’s famous pancakes are on the table a couple of times a week. Emily LOVES pancakes and goes through them like me drinking beer on a Saturday afternoon in August. She ate 4 and all the other kids, grandparents and teachers were very impressed. That’s my girl. Eat like a lineman and don’t apologize.

I had a very nice conversation with the complete grandparent set. The guy was a venture capitalist in the tech field and him and his wife both lived in a pretty nice section of Boston. The teachers made coffee for the adults and I got to have a couple of Aunt Jemima’s best.

During bed time Emily and I were talking. When I put her to bed I usually have her tell me about her day and what she did/what made her happy/how she feels. She said something about the pancakes. Testing her I said she had 2 pancakes and held up two fingers. She yelled out she had 4 pancakes and held up 10 fingers. Young kids can be the ultimate test in patience and really push the limit on what a person can take, but the other 10% of the time they are really fun.

Quick Delta Story

The other day I had a flight and got to the airport in plenty of time. I boarded the plane for a 3:30 scheduled departure. About 10 minutes before we were scheduled to leave the pilot came on and said that an inspection of the plane found that it was hit by lightening and that while not uncommon, this particular hit made a bigger mark than usual. Delta procedure called for a methodical inspection which is a good thing, so he said that the wait would probably be about an hour. Since I had a book to read and they turned on the TVs on the plane, I sat back and relaxed. About 30 minutes later he came on and said they were going to cancel the flight and we all had to get off.

At this point in my story most of the 3 faithful readers of my blog would expect a cynical tale of terrible customer service and horrid examples of why Delta is the devil. But not this time.

I was with a colleague and as we both got off with the 200+ other passengers we heard a gate agent come over the PA in the terminal and told all of us to see a gate agent (at this point about 50 people deep for one person) or to go to a section with a bank of phones and call reservations (about 100 people deep). Always trying to find a shortcut, I just called Delta directly from a pay phone. The phone person said that myself and my colleague were already rebooked on the 7PM flight and that we were all set. Nice. Taking care of us. Good.

We had to kill a couple of hours and the place was a zoo. Not wanting to sit in the terminal and try to find some place to plug our laptops into, I decided to try the Delta Crown Room. I do not have a pass (costs a few hundred dollars) and was not with someone who is a member (then I get in for free). But I thought I would try. After all, I was well dressed and only wanted the quiet work space, not to drink and cause trouble, like I usually do. So we waited in line and when it was our turn to talk to the receptionist person in the Crown Room I walked up and in a very quiet voice said “Our flight was cancelled and we have to kill a couple of hours, do you mind if we work in here for a while?”. The women, also in a quiet tone, said “No problem, go on in, just don’t tell anybody.” Bless this Delta rep for breaking the rules to make me, a very difficult person to please, happy.

So we worked in there, went to the Summer Shack restaurant for dinner and got ignored for a while and finally left, then got on our flight. The Summer Shack story is almost too insignificant to tell. Short version – we sat down and were ignored for about 7 or 10 minutes. While being ignored, another person sat down next to us, a waitress came by, took his drink order, and brought it to him, and we had not even seen a person yet. I got up to ask the hostess to send someone over to us, she turned and said something to another waitress who asked ME what section I was in, like I would somehow know, then I went back to the table to continue being ignored for another 5 or so minutes. At that point we just gave up and left. Who cares, there are 10 other places to get something to eat.

Anyway, while in the Crown Room another Delta person moved our seats on the next flight to good seats in the exit row and gave us meal vouchers. Another example of doing more than was expected and left me feeling good.

We got on our flight, had an uneventful time, then made it to the hotel in Orlando.