Ben Stein’s Diary

Ben Stein's Diary

Hizzoner’s Handshake

By 11.8.13

Thursday
Scary. A friend appeared early in the morning to show me pictures of women who had answered his ad on a dating website. They were unhappy looking people. Not so much unattractive as frightening looking. These were mostly women 60 plus. My heart truly bleeds for them and for the men trying to befriend them. It is really hard to be lonely and it takes a toll on women’s facial features. They look like they have been in prison. I know I am a pitiful fat old man. I don’t think I look as if I have been in prison though. Maybe I do.

Yes, indeed. Maybe I do. I am in a sort of prison of fear about going broke. That’s my obsession.

Anyway, off to DCA to wait for my flight to ORD. I was afraid it would be a long, boring wait but I was pleasantly surprised. A simply beautiful young lawyer with the same first name as my wifey sat near me and we talked animatedly about the law for about an hour. She was as good at conversation as a person can be and also had a cheerful, flashing smile.

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Ben Stein's Diary

Called to Account

By 11.7.13

Wednesday
A great morning at my apartment at the Watergate until I got a call from my bank. I was basking in the glow of doing a truly wonderful event for the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia last night. We had a superb attendance, kind sponsors, a glorious attentive organizing team, and it all was the way life is supposed to be.

Just before I went to bed last night I imagined that I would get a really bad call from my bank and it sent me into a panic. But I was able to sleep anyway. And, as I puttered around this morning making breakfast, I felt happy.

Then I saw the call from my bank. Yuck. A really big overdraft, caused by my own stupidity and carelessness. Luckily, I could easily cover it, but I hated, hated, hated it. Overdrafts make me crazy. You would think that would make me more careful about keeping my accounts straight. It doesn’t. It’s really embarrassing how careless I am about my accounts.

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Ben Stein's Diary

Called to Account

By 11.7.13

If only an SEC action against a friend wasn’t so puzzling.
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Ben Stein's Diary

Intensive Care

By From the November 2013 issue

Tuesday HERE I AM in Sioux City, Iowa, to address the Chamber of Commerce. The day started well, with a late lunch of prime rib at a place called Bev’s attached to the Hilton Garden Inn on the river—the mighty Missouri. It was served expertly, was heavenly tasting and amazingly inexpensive. I went off with my fine host, Chuck, director of the C of C, and spent a good while taking pictures, then rested and fell fast asleep in a chair for about half an hour. Then I was shown to my table, where I was seated next to a man whose family company makes agricultural sprinklers. I am bound to say that I have rarely in my long life met a man whose company I enjoyed more. He and I agreed on so many points about the cultural and social landscape, it was simply great. This man and I are twins separated at birth. He was so very kind as to offer to fly me to my next stop on his airplane, but that was too much of an offer and I declined. But this man is proof that everyone has a twin. If this mid-section of America has more like him, we still have a fighting chance. 
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Ben Stein's Diary

Return to Ruby Ridge

By From the October 2013 issue

Saturday A FABULOUSLY INTERESTING day here in Sandpoint. Tim Farmin and I got into my rented silver-gray Chrysler and drove to Priest River, roughly 25 miles away. It is a logging town where I know some pleasant people. We were headed for the Priest River Gun Show. The drive along the Pendoreille River was inspiring, as always: immense water views, forests, sheer cliffs, meadowlands. Just a few cars on Route 200. It endlessly amazes me that there are not more sightseers along that magnificent highway. The gun show was in the gymnasium of Priest River Junior High, a great ’30s-’40s structure with block lettering of what I guess was Art Moderne style. The gun sellers and purveyors of knives and humorous memorabilia were amazingly cheerful. One of them opened the festivities by saying, “Here’s my favorite economist.” They could hardly believe I was there and I could hardly believe I was there. The highlighted weapon was a .50 caliber sniper rifle, the kind that the military uses in Iraq (I guess formerly) and now uses occasionally in Afghanistan. It was a beast.
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Ben Stein's Diary

Sweet Home Americana

By 10.28.13

A very busy week in Alabama and at The American Spectator. But a poisonous end, thanks to the Times.
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Ben Stein's Diary

Unsequestering Defense

By 10.21.13

It really is time to get serious if we are to remain a free people.
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