Ben Stein's Diary
It’s Poetic
Letter in response to an e-mail from Ben Stein that he was about to go for a swim.
Letter in response to an e-mail from Ben Stein that he was about to go for a swim.
Dear darling man:
I have thought about this email from you for several days and it has been a conundrum of sorts. I hope that you are not displeased with some of my thinking … I certainly mean no offense.
By any measure, my current situation would not be considered enviable by most people. I am not wealthy (not even comfortable certain months when the annual bills of insurance or real estate taxation come due). I am not in a regular long-term relationship with a loving adult man (in my case). I am not employed in a position at this moment that rewards me either monetarily or in a personal level of satisfaction.
In the past, I have been a slave to fashion. I have either purchased or yearned for the “latest” — be it clothing, furniture, books, food, wine or whatever the current “it” was. I found myself chafing as a result of what I did not have. And. As we all know, commerce is furthered by always moving the boundaries of what we do not have and challenging us to keep up. For most of us there is no keeping up.
The past four years have turned my world upside down. Or perhaps “righted” it. Being here in small town Ohio versus Big D Dallas has restored some of my perspective and values. In Dallas I was always in pursuit and never in enjoyment. These days, I have a true sense of warm when I have a full gas tank, a blue sky and a few hours to enjoy. Yes. I can still make myself crazy (if I choose) thinking about the half million I lost on paper and imagining what that might have done or bought. But I just can’t do it anymore. I focus on the things within my control and self scold when I disappoint myself or add to my unhappiness through some thoughtless act or word. I have reconciled myself to my unique imperfection and who I am and while — on occasion I curse the scale, closet, or empty bed — I am comforted and content. Not words that will resonate on a tombstone, but ones which will make my days here that much more rich and fulfilling.
In a nutshell? Just enjoy the swim!
love,
me
Letter to the Editor View all comments (31) | Leave a comment
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drudge ette obama| 12.17.10 @ 6:09AM
Get a dog. You will never be alone again.
Appleby| 12.17.10 @ 7:00AM
Indeed. As Jeff Foxworthy once said, shut your dog and your wife in the trunk of your car. After an hour, open it up and see which one is glad to see you.
Geokster from Texas| 12.17.10 @ 9:31AM
That's priceless.
Toto| 12.17.10 @ 11:35AM
Bathos, anyone?
It'sPoeticPoop| 12.17.10 @ 11:41AM
A thought for today:
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
PrettyPoetess| 12.17.10 @ 11:48AM
Here's a poem I've started about a ballerina. Ben, dear, can you help me complete it? Please. Pretty please.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
Timothy Tuppence| 12.17.10 @ 11:51AM
PrettyPoetess,
I doubt Ben can be of any help, but I'll try. Give me four or five hours, and check back in to see what I have come up with. Love the simile comparing the ballerina to a dog.
SwimmerLikeBen| 12.17.10 @ 12:00PM
Here's a little poem I wrote for the poetic Ben Stein:
I am going for a
Swim in God's
Swimming pool
And at the same time
I feel that I am being blessed by God
m a t e r i a l l y
While I am swimming in my swimming pool
God bless America and my swimming pool
006NIX| 12.17.10 @ 1:00PM
It's Poetic
(It's pathetic)
Good God! Has Ben come down with dementia?
G Y| 12.17.10 @ 4:13PM
The writer of the message to Benny boy, says she "lost a half million on paper" while living in Dallas.
A pity.
And a pitiful piece of drivel, I might add.
Chalkdust| 12.19.10 @ 12:41PM
Once a man, twice a boy. OK Ben, give it up, what's the point in amassing more dough by trying to channel the old Ben. Anyway, it's about time for your strained carrots and a visit from your doggy.
You may have a subliminal message for us buried deep in the goo, but who would know.
Eric| 12.17.10 @ 4:17PM
Dear darling man:
and she signs it
love,
me
Seems to me that "me" may be wearing some lacey underpanties.
Mimi| 12.17.10 @ 6:17PM
Poor Ben. Apparently he's up to his cups in spiked eggnog.
Cheers, everyone!
Rev Billy C. Calhoun| 12.19.10 @ 4:25PM
Who is this mysterious, wacky woman who addresses Ben Stein as "Dear Darling Man:"?
Is there a sexual liaison going on between Benny boy and the mysterious woman who calls him her "Darling Man"?
Can you believe Ben would print such rubbish! Scandalous! Ben, have you no shame!
al| 12.17.10 @ 8:20AM
Everyone should be as "not rich" as Ben Stein.
79@feelin'fine| 12.17.10 @ 9:35AM
Another Ben Stein offering.
Please pass the anti-nausea drugs.
Intelligent Design| 12.17.10 @ 11:16AM
Would someone please explain what this is all about? I "don't get it". Really.
TooPoeticForWords| 12.17.10 @ 11:32AM
A POEM FOR MY MOTHER by Ben Stein
Never a sigh for the cares that she bore for me
Never a thought of the joys that flew by;
Her one regret that she couldn't do more for me,
Thoughtless and selfish, her Master was I.
Oh, the long nights that she came at my call to me!
Oh, the soft touch of her hands on my brow!
Oh, the long years that she gave up her all to me!
Oh, how I yearn for her gentleness now!
Slave to her baby! Yes, that was the way of her,
Counting her greatest of services small;
Words cannot tell what this old heart would say of her,
Mother -- the sweetest and fairest of all.
Moon River| 12.17.10 @ 6:18PM
You don't get it? Neither does Ben.
Edward White| 12.18.10 @ 10:11AM
She ends her self-pitying, vapid e-mail with these words: "In a nutshell? Just enjoy the swim."
I've been swimming through these sarcastic comments regarding Ben's haywire post, and a few made me smile, and one or two made me laugh out loud.
If Ben were attempting IRONY, he failed. The piece is just too . . . too dumb for irony.
Betty Jean Haggard| 12.17.10 @ 11:33AM
Lovely, Ben.
I'm clutching a Kleenex as I reread your poem.
John Bollocks| 12.17.10 @ 11:37AM
Very sweet, Ben.
Thank you for the tribute to your mom.
Wish I could write like you.
I Love Poetry w/Heart @ Soul| 12.17.10 @ 12:14PM
Here's a sad--very sad--Christmas poem:
I love you all dearly
So don't shed a tear
I'll be spending Christmas
With Jesus this year
I dedicate this poem to the sensitive Ben Stein, a man whose heart is as big as a . . . (can't think of a word to go here--can anyone help?).
Pepe Le Pew| 12.17.10 @ 12:21PM
. . . as big as a cochon? . . . as big as a bouboule?
You like?
Pepe likes to be helpful.
Annie| 12.17.10 @ 12:22PM
Pepe, you are a cutie and a sweetie. God bless you.
H. Warren| 12.17.10 @ 12:57PM
Pepe, you rascal!
I didn't know you were still living. I thought you died sometime back in the late fifties.
Just curious, Pepe:
Did you happen to know Edith Piaf?
She was my favorite chaunteuse back in the old days.
There's the doorbell. Meals on Wheels. Gotta get the door.
Pepe Le Pew| 12.17.10 @ 1:05PM
Pepe and Piaf? No, no, Nanette!
Piaf too rough for Pepe.
Maurice Chevalier. Oui! Oui! Chevalier and I--we were--how you say--buddeez.
beebop| 12.17.10 @ 2:35PM
What the hell is wrong with you people? You'd think you'd be rolling in your tax cuts and smarming about the failure of the budget.
Get lives.
Seriously.
In 2011
Pepe Le Pew| 12.17.10 @ 3:37PM
beebopaloola
he do the hula
Pepe Le Pew| 12.17.10 @ 6:22PM
Joyeux Noel to all!
And Pepe blows you a kees!
Annie| 12.17.10 @ 6:24PM
Pepe, honey, you are so poetic!