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Ben Stein’s Diary
Tuesday–July 29, 2014
It is all happening again. Wild anti-Jewish mobs shouting, “Death to the Jews” in Berlin, threats against Jews wearing yarmulkes all across Europe, homes of prominent Jews attacked. “Celebrities” in Spain denouncing Israeli “fascism” for Israel defending itself.
Europe. And now that Europe is fast becoming a Muslim and Arab continent, there will be no turning back. The illness of Islamist hatred and fundamentalism is loosed upon once mighty Europe from within and the organism has no defense mechanism. Europe as a home of liberal ideas about the dignity of the individual will be only a memory by the time my 26-year-old son is middle aged. It is a catastrophe of historic, world-ending dimensions.
I awakened this morning to a cloudy sky. Off to swim while pausing every minute or so to throw the ball for Julie. We have had no rain in just about forever, and even any rain at all would be a Godsend.
Then, breakfast, and while my English muffins were toasting, I opened the New York Times. With suitable sounding of clarions, bugles, coronets and drums, the Times announced that its mighty “Editorial Board” would now be endorsing the legalization of marijuana. This was announced with as much solemnity as if there had been an actual sighting of the Lord God Jehovah at Union Square.
The Times “Editorial Board” has decided that the federal ban on marijuana is all too much like the Volstead Act, which enacted Prohibition on alcohol. It is creating a new, immense class of law breakers, and filling up prisons with marijuana law breakers, who turn out, by the cunning of racism, and through no fault of their own, to be largely black.
Travel with a three year old is exhausting. Wifey, our daughter-in-law, “The Kitten,” and our three-year-old granddaughter left Sandpoint about noon yesterday. We hated to go. The sky was a dramatic silver gray and the wind blew the cottonwoods against the windows and Mr. Buffett’s trains roared by. It was what I always wanted.
But we have to return the Kitten to our son and we have to return his daughter, too. So, an uneventful flight to Seattle from Spokane, a brief snack in Seattle, and then, WHAAM!!
Just as we boarded the 7:25 PM flight to LAX, the beloved Coco-Puff was slammed by a bad stomach ache. That would be bad enough for any of us big boys. Or girls. Intestinal disorders while traveling should be illegal. I have suffered from them all of my life.
Sandpoint, Tuesday, July 21, 2014
Rain. It is startling to see rain on my window pane. It is an extinct phenomenon in California. Just a few drops on the glass here are intoxicating. Will it ever rain again in Sunny Cal? It had better. Someone will make a fortune trucking in water. But it won’t be me.
I awakened with a nasty intestinal virus. Why? I don’t know but my wife had it two days ago so it’s going around. As my pal Phil always says, just a touch of nausea makes life deeply unsettling, destroys all sense of proportion, robs you of your vitality. That’s just a touch of nausea. My Tazo Refresh Tea helps, but I need lomotil as well.
I slept very late, then answered e-mails. As I saw the rain hovering over the lake, I read the encouragement of those who have been angered by my rough treatment in the media. The one I treasured especially was from a woman of roughly my age. Many years ago, she had a middle-aged pregnancy through an affair with a married man in the construction trades.
Monday, Sandpoint, Idaho
A trying day but a rewarding day. The smoke has returned somewhat but temperatures are pleasant and a delightful breeze blows across the lake and the beach. I lay out on the balcony for a while, then came inside to nap with my Big Wifey by my side.
My “smart phone” rang and on the other end of the line was a gossip columnist from New York City. She had a smear item on me. In brief, this is what it’s about.
About five months ago, as I was walking through SFO to get into my car, I met a young woman who was extremely excited to meet me. She was literally jumping up and down with excitement. She told me she was a “performance artist” but hinted at some scary parts of her life. She said she would like to be a writer and asked if I could help. We exchanged texting addresses and off I went in my car. I spent fewer than five minutes talking to her in a busy airport terminal.
July 19, 2014
Another hot, smoky day. The brown air sears the lungs. The sky is ominous, choking, dense. It is Saturday and I slept late and look forward to a lot more sleep. But I have miles to go before I sleep again. I am having the devil’s own time with slow downloads. I think I need a new computer. A trip to Staples to look around. Very nice people, but that store is extremely low on every kind of supply I was looking for. I wonder what its future is.
I bought a computer but Citibank would not let me charge it on my Citi MasterCard. There was some fuss about an earlier order. It took a lot of telephone struggle with a fraud department clerk to get things straightened out, or so I thought.
Then, a short jaunt to the Walmart. You can make all the fun you want of that store, but the people who work there really want to help. They search and search with you until they find what you need — in my case, immense quantities of Fiji Water. I find Fiji genuinely tastes better than any other brand.
Friday–July 18, 2014
Well, this has been a depressing day. The smoke here in Sandpoint is like soup. A short walk through the city beach left my lungs on fire. Apparently the forest fire in Washington state blowing our way is one of the biggest forest fires in decades. Close to 200,000 acres burned so far. At times, the breeze blows away the smoke but then it comes back and it’s oppressive. The fire is zero percent contained.
Smokey, gritty Sandpoint isn’t the Sandpoint we know and love. But I love it anyway.
I slept late, as always when I can. Then I raced all over town doing errands for my big wifey. She has mislaid the stylus for her Samsung Galaxy Notes 3. Not easy to replace in a town the size of Sandpoint… roughly 7,500 souls. I never did find one. I found many stylus models but not the one I need.
A bewildering day. The Russians shot down a Malaysian Airlines Boeing777, killing roughly 300 men, women, children and infants on board. They shot it down over eastern Ukraine, basically by accident, but by the kind of accident that shows such extreme contempt for life that it would be considered a crime in any country.
There is no doubt that the Russian-controlled, Russian-armed “pro-separatists” shot down the plane with a Russian-supplied super capable SA-11 “Gadfly” anti-aircraft missile. It could not have been anyone else, unless it was the Russian army on Russian soil. Only the Russian proxy army has the SA-11 and the motive to shoot down planes over the Ukraine. Obviously, the Ukrainians would not do it. What would be their motive?
But the reckless, contemptuous Russian “rebels” have the motive — shoot down planes over Ukraine — and this part is perfect: They are on the record in phone intercepts saying they did it.
The Kiev government recorded them and if the Kiev government recorded it, the NSA must have it in 5.1 channel stereo.
Tuesday–July 15, 2014–L.A.
Again, there were the tiniest hints of rain. Again, no real rain fell. We are in big trouble here in California. Yes, we can go a while without rain. But this has been many years with no rain and it’s a disaster. I love L.A. and I would hate to see it dry up and blow away.
Why didn’t the authorities plan for this foreseeable crisis by making immense desalinization plants ? Or colossal aqueducts? They did nothing. There was no planning at all for a true disaster.
Amazing. We are being told to plan and change our ways of life for climate change fifty years from now but the powers that be cannot change the way we get our water for a catastrophe unfolding right before our eyes. Something is wrong here.
Speaking of something wrong… two days ago, as I was leaving a restaurant in West Hollywood, a man named Robert who works for me and with me, called me and in a shaky and horrified voice told me his mother had just died.