Ben Stein's Diary

The Rages of Sin

A not very quiet shutdown Sunday.

By 10.7.13

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Sunday
A full day. I had lunch with a stunningly brilliant 24-year-old Chinese woman film student at the Polo Lounge. The student’s name is Tian Wei Wang. She is from the Beijing area, and she graduated from a prestigious university there in foreign affairs, then studied drama and film in Berlin, Heidelberg, and Munich. She is fluent in German, English, and Mandarin

She has been sending me short comments on her favorite films and why she likes them. They represent one of the most acute minds on the subject of politics, romance, economics, class struggle, and drama I have seen since Warshaw’s The Immediate Experience.

I am simply awed by her. Her name means Clear Blue Sky and as far as I can tell, her horizons are unlimited.

Then, a long nap in my office. My bedroom is a total mess from the mad efforts to get my new 3D TV to work. It has taken four experts thus far and we are farther than ever from making it happen. Now, I have no TV at all, and no DVD, and a huge mass of empty boxes, wires, and bills for machinery and labor. This is a nightmare.

Then, a 12-step meeting at which a fine speaker spoke, but he kept being interrupted by two hideous, dopey texting girls sitting in front of my wife and me. Finally, my wife, the kindest of persons, said, “Be quiet!” sharply to them and they were quiet. What bad luck that they were there.

We then went to a going away party for a beautiful young woman who is moving to Hawaii. It was at a charming but very dark restaurant called “Joan’s” in Hollywood. I ran into Molly, the lovely daughter of my witty friend, John Mankiewicz, a successful writer, from that famous screenwriting family (Citizen Kane). She was so happy looking, it thoroughly charmed me.

As I was sitting and waiting for my wife to finish a conversation about training grizzly bears for movies, a pleasant young man came up to me.

“I watch you all of the time on TV,” he said to me, “and I know you think the Republicans are crazy to be shutting down the government over this health care bill.”

“I do indeed,” I said. “I think it may kill the party.”

“I agree with you,” said the man, whom I recalled from another event where he showed up in a fire engine red, gleaming Ferrari. “But I think you have underestimated just how angry ordinary white middle class and white working class voters are.

“This is a George Wallace moment,” my interlocutor continued. “White working class people, white small businessmen, mothers, are just sick at being pushed around by the courts, by the government, by the media, by the intellectuals.

“They have had God taken out of the schools. Their schools have been completely ruined by busing, where black kids were taken from far away and dumped in their schools for no clear purpose.

“They’re sick of having to be afraid of walking down the streets at night. They don’t like the blacks living off welfare paid for by their taxes and then yelling at the white people and calling them names. They’re furious at the talking heads on TV never, and I mean never, calling the blacks to account for the ruin of Detroit or Baltimore or Cleveland. They’re sick of being called racists if they point out the wild disproportion of black crime in America to white crime. They’re sick of government giving every kind of preference to black people and the white family gets cursed at just for being white.”

“Look,” I said, “you’re wrong on many counts here but even if you’re right, how does shutting down the government help them?”

“Because they see the government as the enforcer who’s taking from them and giving to the blacks, and yes, that’s race consciousness, but it’s nothing at all compared with the racism that comes out of the mouths of the Al Sharptons of this world. So they want to rear back and give government and the courts and the media a punch in the mouth.”

“It won’t help,” I said.

“Maybe not. But it shows what an angry mood so many white people are in. And attention must be paid. In this country, we have an establishment that just dumps all over the white, Christian family. You’ve seen it yourself with how they cram that fake evolution garbage down the kids’ throats. They won’t let it even be questioned. And the Moslems can build a mosque right next to the World Trade Center and the Congolese get shipped into Spokane and their white cousins can’t get in from Ireland or Poland? You don’t think people are angry about that?”

I didn’t say anything because at that point my wife appeared.

“There is such a thing as class consciousness,” the man said, “and there’s such a thing as race consciousness. The media says ‘bravo’ if it’s black race consciousness but goes berserk if it’s white race consciousness. So now there’s a chance to have someone pay attention. It may be suicidal but when people are angry enough, they’ll do desperate things.”

“Okay,” I said, “you’ve made your point,” and I smiled at him and my wife and I walked out.

But there is something going on out there, and it’s frightening.

Time for sushi.

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About the Author

Ben Stein is a writer, actor, economist, and lawyer living in Beverly Hills and Malibu. He writes "Ben Stein's Diary" for every issue of The American Spectator.