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Articles by Ben Stein
Swimming in Defeat Discovering a cure for Elections 2026.
So, the day after the GOP bloodbath a few days ago, I was sitting by my super pool feeling sad. My pal Judah, a very smart fellow, called me. “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I’m sitting by my pool feeling desperate. What should I do?” “Go swimming in your pool,” he said. Great advice. I did it and I felt better. I have desperate pain in my hips and swimming helps a great deal. It all reminds me of when the media unleashed a coup against Mr. Nixon and I felt suicidal.
Swimming in Defeat Discovering a cure for Elections 2026.
So, the day after the GOP bloodbath a few days ago, I was sitting by my super pool feeling sad. My pal Judah, a very smart fellow, called me. “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I’m sitting by my pool feeling desperate. What should I do?” “Go swimming in your pool,” he said. Great advice. I did it and I felt better. I have desperate pain in my hips and swimming helps a great deal. It all reminds me of when the media unleashed a coup against Mr. Nixon and I felt suicidal.
Living in Fear Not what I would have chosen.
I have reached full-scale terror. I get fearful when heavy rain falls here in our glorious Los Angeles. I am scared when there is thunder. Above all, I get fearful when I have a low balance in my bank account. I get terrorized when I read about the real estate “correction” here in my beloved Los Angeles. I am trying to access an American Express Line of Credit. I have had, and used frequently, American Express.
Inflation Can Be Stopped Even in the age of AI.
There is a magical mystery myth prevailing in our great United States of America. That myth says that once inflation starts, it cannot be stopped except by gunfire or some other draconian means. This is haunting the nation even as the inflation that started about a year ago gathers momentum and scares us all to death. But it is a myth.
Threatened by Fire Could it happened again in Malibu?
Friday A scary day here in Southern California: A raging brushfire in the general area of Malibu is hurtling towards our home in Trancas, a charming area where my wife and I plan to spend our golden years. Our house overlooks the Pacific and is a glorious place to watch sea birds, immense waves, yachts right out of magazines for rich people, and to feel powerful winds coming all the way from Canada.
The Death of a Young Friend How can he be gone?
It’s a perfect, cloudless day here. The temperature is 78. Mild by recent standards. I was awake most of the night with intestinal problems. This is not at all unusual for me. As I have written lately, I used to have excellent meds for cruel pain. Then the Bolsheviks in D.C. and in Sacramento changed the laws. Without any meaningful data that told us that Paregoric was going to kill us, the government put out a big red Verboten sign on Paregoric.
The Day I Met Elvis Presley at the White House A 1970 encounter with the King comes to mind while watching ‘Blade Runner 2049’ — and enduring another night of pain.
It’s a perfect, cloudless day here. The temperature is 78. Mild by recent standards. I was awake most of the night with intestinal problems. This is not at all unusual for me. As I have written lately, I used to have excellent meds for cruel pain. Then the Bolsheviks in D.C. and in Sacramento changed the laws. Without any meaningful data that told us Paregoric was going to kill us, the government put out a big red Verboten sign on Paregoric.
The Day I Met Elvis Presley at the White House A 1970 encounter with the King comes to mind while watching ‘Blade Runner 2049’ — and enduring another night of pain.
It’s a perfect, cloudless day here. The temperature is 78. Mild by recent standards. I was awake most of the night with intestinal problems. This is not at all unusual for me. As I have written lately, I used to have excellent meds for cruel pain. Then the Bolsheviks in D.C. and in Sacramento changed the laws. Without any meaningful data that told us Paregoric was going to kill us, the government put out a big red Verboten sign on Paregoric.
When Paradise Overheats Malibu offers an escape. Plus: Goose-steppers from the east.
Super hot. These are the most painful climatic conditions I have encountered since moving to Los Angeles in 1976. Each day this week has been brutally humid and hot. Really, really bad. But because I grew up in Washington, D.C. and Silver Spring, Maryland, I am accustomed to heat and humidity. One of the many small jobs I had on Harvey Road was washing cars, and another was mowing grass. They were brutal in Washington, D.C., and Silver Spring summers. So, I am bearing up in the heat.
My Life in Pain After the Government Took My Drug Restrictions on an old opium-based medicine have deprived chronic pain sufferers of an effective treatment.
It is the end of July 2026. I have been in excruciating pain since about midnight last night. Or, I might say, I have been in acute pain since about late evening of late July 1950. That’s right. Late July of 1950. My pain, always in the abdomen, has been running riot since about the beginning of the Korean War. The pain has been serious to the point that I have to bend over while sitting on the toilet. Somehow, the pressure against my spine cuts off the impulses of pain through my body.
Can’t Help But Wonder Why have we lost Sen. Lindsey Graham?
In early January 1963, Hugh Gaitskell, a fairly conservative Labourite MP, considered a likely future PM, came down with severe chest pains and shortness of breath. A few days earlier, he had complained of a sharp pain in his back while walking in a crowd in London. Shortly thereafter, he died in a London Hospital. The diagnosis was a ruptured aorta and other symptoms of Lupus. There was major commentary that he was done in by the KGB, who were more or less running wild in London in those days.
What Counts Most A few thoughts at this point in life. Plus a meeting with my psychoanalyst.
As I contemplate the end of my life, which has to come sooner or later, I try to share with my friends the smartest, most useful thoughts that have come my way in the past 81 years. One of the best is this simple thought: don’t fight over small things with those you love. And in that category would be lovers, close friends, parents, children, and, in particular, those to whom you are married, or those whose children you are raising.
My Exemplary Father A Father’s Day reflection on Herbert Stein, memory, and the quiet shaping of a son’s life. Original
Sometimes I try to imagine what it would be like to have a father who did not want to be a father. When I do, I try to imagine a father totally unlike my father, Herbert Stein. May I give you a few examples? I recall in 1953 and 1954 sitting on dark green couches in our “recreation room” in front of a roaring fireplace watching hour after hour of Victory at Sea.
My Money Isn’t What It Used to Be A Hollywood life of abundance, anxiety, and the terrifying power of an empty bank account.
“Wine maketh merry and a feast is made for laughter, but money answereth all things.” This thought runs through my mind like a brushfire lately. Due largely but far from entirely from my insurance companies failing to pay money owing to me for “long term care policies” for which I have been paying premiums for about 40 years, I have been running extremely low on money. But I mean really desperately low on cash. Scarily low. This has happened before, and it was terrifying. Now it’s terrifying again.
A Bueller, Bueller Anniversary Forty years ago today “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” was released — changing Ben Stein’s life forever. Here Ben recalls how it came about.
Roughly 41 years ago, my dear friend, Michael Chinich, a kindred spirit if there ever was one, a man whom I used to visit in “The Black Tower,” the executive offices of Universal, asked me if I would do him a little favor. Michael was casting and producing a youth comedy for a close friend of his, John Hughes, a gigantically successful writer and producer of youth comedies. Michael and John and I had been having intense conversations about political issues in Michael’s office at Universal.
War on Old People On my worst digestive days, Paregoric would bring relief.
For almost all of my life, I have suffered from colitis. This is what you think it is: gut pain accompanied by constipation and diarrhea. This problem hit me in class, on long car trips, and most especially when I was being yelled at by my mother. It hit its worst in the summer of 1966. Anxiety about entering Yale Law School. A struggle by yours truly about girlfriends. I had two choices, both fabulously great women. An acute shortage of money.
A Saturday with My Goddess Between blue skies, murder mysteries, and quiet moments at home, I give thanks for the woman I love.
Saturday It’s a perfect day today here in L.A. Temperatures in the mid 70s. Blue skies, mild, encouraging breeze coming from the mountains towards Alex and me as we watch one of my wife’s endless cop shows. A light lunch at the Beverly Hills hotel as I watch children playing in the super blue water, and women wearing way too skimpy bathing suits. I came home after lunch and there — as usual — was my wife for life, Alex, watching a murder mystery with her nurse.
My Life in Beverly Hills An old man, a long marriage, and the quiet rituals of Beverly Hills.
By an astonishing stroke of luck, my goddess wife, Alex, insisted about thirty years ago that we live in Beverly Hills. I, your humble servant, was sent out to find us a home. I wandered from neighborhood to neighborhood south of Sunset and East of Eden to look. To make a long story short, I did not see anything I liked that I could afford. And most of what I saw was not appealing. Then, a miracle came into our lives.
My Sister, My Salvation From a drunken night in Maryland to a lifetime of love and loyalty.
In late 1960, I started to drink alcohol in large amounts. I was probably in tenth grade at Montgomery Blair High School, in Silver Spring, Maryland. My friends and I would pile into a car, drive to a nearby shopping center and find a liquor store called Jet Liquors. Its entire usefulness was that it sold hard liquor to us kids without much trouble. I loved the feeling it gave me. It made me feel powerful, carefree, the center of attention in the best possible way.
Thank You, Dear God, for Donald Trump We used to not get along. But once in love with America …
A few days ago, I was jolted by the radio news that Israel, the USA, and Iran were entering a two-week period of a cease-fire to discuss a lasting end to the Israel/USA/Iran war. The effort was led by Red China, Pakistan, and perhaps other nations as well. (RELATED: It May Not Be a Ceasefire. It Might Be a Strategic Pause.) The terms, so far as are known, would have the USA and Israel ceasing to attack Iran.
Iran War: Is There Any Hope? I urge caution and keeping our young men alive.
Fear is spreading across the globe — at least my globe. First, now it’s incontrovertible: the hope that we were in a worldwide post-Cold War era of peace was just a hope. Not real. Just a hope. Russia is thoroughly at war in Europe and the Middle East. The utterly illegal war against Ukraine gets worse by the day. There was never any justification for it, and now it’s just a Stalinist invasion. The European map is not going to look right to Putin until it would have been right to Stalin.
Horatio in Our Time Standing at the gate.
These are the times that try men’s souls. The light of man’s souls, the United States of America, is seeking to rid the earth of basic, powerful evil, namely Iran. This nation has for roughly fifty years been tormenting mankind with global terrorism in the form of mass murder. The only stalwarts standing up to Iran lately have been Israel and the USA.
My Neighbors on Harvey Road A memoir of family, friends, and coming of age in postwar suburban Maryland.
In 1953, my parents, Herbert and Mildred Stein, my sister, Rachel Judith Stein, about three years my senior, and I moved into a perfect 1950s modern home at 9342 Harvey Road, Silver Spring, Maryland, 20910, although there were no zip codes then. It was about as lovely a home as Jews could own in that day and age. It overlooked a beautiful park called Sligo Creek Park. The park was totally clean and neat. It featured a pristine creek, and fire pits and picnic tables.
Pretty Boy Becomes Ugly – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Your humble servant, Ben Stein, has been a citizen of the Golden State since 1972. It was then that I moved to Santa Cruz and taught for a brief while at the spectacular campus of UC, Santa Cruz. There are not enough words to say how magnificent that campus was in those days. I was introduced to it by my dear friend from Yale Law School, Chris Wilson. He and his wife and my wife and I drove to an overlook at Cowell College and stared at the Bay of Monterey. I swore I would return.
Why Do Israel and Trump Stand More or Less Alone? – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
I am staggered by the idiocy, rage, and just plain old-fashioned antisemitism that rends the news of the world today. First, let’s start with the wild anti-Israel snarling of the media today. Not more than a few days or even hours after the Iranian murder regime has mowed down tens of thousands of its people on the streets of Tehran because they asked for a government that would rule by law instead of by hate, the Trump administration took steps for mercy and law.
Learning From Jesse Jackson – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
This morning, February 17, I awakened to hear on my radio that Jesse Jackson had died. I have known Mr. Jackson as a colleague and close friend for 40 years. I worked with him since 1984 to help him as the “ghostwriter” of his autobiography. Mr. Jackson had been the first black man to give it a serious go-over. He was an intelligent, well-read Democrat. He won 11 primaries across the nation.
The Family I Married Into – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Night after night, day after day, I, your humble servant, lie in bed next to my goddess wife, Alexandra Denman. Usually, we watch documentaries about the rise and fall of Nazism. These start out with the rise of Hitler, swimming in a sea of hatred of the world generated by the loss of the First World War, boiling into rage as Germans were overwhelmed by starvation, inflation, mass unemployment, and disdain by France and Britain, and (to a much smaller extent) the USA.
Mary Just Skinner – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Long ago and far away, I was a lonely Junior at Columbia. I was in an incredibly great fraternity called Alpha Delta Phi in a magnificent townhouse at 526 West 114th Street. I had the best fraternity brothers on earth, starting with Larry Lissitzyn, the President of AD. A kind and brilliant classmate named Stuart Reynolds had gotten me in — possibly because they thought they needed me to elevate the average grades in AD. We were happy.
Work and Love – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
January 18, 2026 — Now for a good-sized portion of wisdom from my brilliant father, Herbert Stein: In early October 1966, I was wildly misdiagnosed and mis-medicated by my student health service at Yale Law School. To address serious suicidal ideation and anxiety, I was prescribed two super-strong medications. As I recall, they were Trilafon and Mellaril. I immediately became insanely suicidal and anxious.
Where Everybody Knows My Name – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
For about 30 years now, my goddess wife and I have lived in Beverly Hills. It’s a leafy, charming ’hood that stands out in Carbon-Monoxide Los Angeles because of its old-fashioned charm and its proximity to expensive stores and restaurants. It’s famous for the many famous men and women who have lived here. I never intended to live here. But my wife-for-life always wanted to do so, and so here we are. There are breathtakingly expensive homes here. Ours is not one of them.
What It’s Like to Feel ‘Restricted’ – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
It’s Christmas in Beverly Hills. There are a few homes decorated with Merry Lights, but not many. It’s very different from Christmas in the 1950s in Silver Spring, Maryland, when oh, so many homes were gaily decorated with lights. But those were different days indeed. And I can tell you this. I am extremely grateful to live and breathe in America. I was when I was young and I still am. My father was a well-known economist. He had served in the U.S. Navy in World War II.
Reiner and Son – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
I first met Rob Reiner the first week I moved to Los Angeles in the summer of 1976. He was a friend of a close friend. We all sat around a sandwich cafe in West Hollywood, or what became West Hollywood. We were on opposite sides of the political fence. I had just recently been an apologist and speechwriter for Richard Nixon. He was a strict leftist. His father, Carl Reiner, had been a superstar co-star of Sid Caesar, a gigantic TV star of my childhood. We got along great from the first minute.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!! – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
It’s Christmas here in Beverly Hills. The nearby shopping street of shopping streets, Rodeo Drive, is lit and decorated beyond anything I have ever seen before. One blazing store front after another with the most expensive names in modern shopping history. It’s a carnival of the vanities. It’s a place I would not have believed existed — but exists. We pray that God allowed the miracle of America to triumph in the atomic age.
We Are Not Depression Proof – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Old age. Terrifying. Really scary. An invariably lethal disease. Not just sometimes. Invariably. And I used to think it was lethal, mostly because of mistakes we individuals make: obesity, smoking, careless driving. But it’s not. It can be caused by government mistakes. The rate of suicides spikes because of economic catastrophes caused by federal mistakes on a huge scale. The Great Depression was sparked by an insanely wrong-headed mistake in 1929 and then another one in 1931.
Saving Is a Must – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
December 1, 2025 Now, for a few humble thoughts on the first day of the last month of 2025. First, if I ever have another life to live, please, dear God, remind me that the huge rivers of money I had coming in for the last 30 years or so can and will end. This means I MUST save more. Mr. Buffett put it well: no matter how much you are saving, save more. Save it in gold. Save it in real estate. Save it in BRK. But save it you must. I got used to seeing immense checks pouring in month after month.
Mr. and Mrs. Bureaucrats, Show Us Some Mercy – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
My goddess, my dream girl since I saw her gliding towards me in a light blue satin dress at a July 4, 1966, black tie dinner dance at the State Department Ballroom, loves to watch documentaries on TV with me. It does us both a world of good. Since my goddess got out of a hellish six-day stay at the famous Cedars-Sinai Hospital, she has become fixated on the Ken Burns product. They are super ultra-politically biased but brilliantly shot.
How to Break Inflation’s Back – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
We Americans are bedeviled night and day by inflation. It’s a curse, an albatross around the necks of homemakers, widows, new entrants to the labor force, old members of the labor force. Rapidly rising prices for goods and services of every kind haunt every person, every family, that wanders in fear and loathing up and down the aisles of grocery stores, shops for airline tickets to see grandparents for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and opens bills for utilities online and in the mail.
The Best Thing in Life – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
I am now going to tell you something helpful. I have lived now for almost 81 years. For the last 40 years or so, my life has been guided by some words of Samuel Johnson. Among many other brilliant aperçus, he said that a good tavern was the best thing in life. For my time in Los Angeles, I had two main taverns: Morton’s on Melrose, close to me in Beverly Hills. It was run by Pam Morton and run beautifully. I saw many friends there every time I went in. My wife and I were treated like family.
Liquidity Is Essential to Life – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
I’m old. Really old. Eighty years old. This is not as glamorous as it might sound. My health has been a real problem. Modern American medicine is absolutely lacking in compassion for us old people. My wife and I spend much of our time and money visiting doctors to get help. The main goal of the doctors and the hospitals and the insurance giants seems to be to deny us coverage. But the main lesson of old age — there are others as well — is to follow the advice of Dr. Johnson.
The Almighty Power – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
I am now 80 years old. Let’s not kid ourselves: That’s OLD. I have a number of observations about life, and I will share them with you nice people gradually. The one I want to talk about today is one of the simplest ones. Financial insecurity is not just a bad thing. It’s a terrifyingly bad thing. This comes to mind because a few months ago, because of a series of awful calamities, mostly wild misconduct by a bank and an insurance company and some lawyers, I was just about out of money.
Return to Gunskirchen Lager and Col. Denman – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
I am married to the finest human being on the planet. Her name is Alexandra Denman. I met her in 1966 at a black-tie party at the State Department celebrating Independence Day. We have been together for the balance of our lives, with a few years off to gather our wits. The first time I met her at her family’s home in Virginia, I also met her father, Colonel Dale Denman Jr., U.S. Army, just back from vicious warfare in Vietnam. He was the handsomest man I had ever met. He was from Prescott, Arkansas.
What Happened to America? – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Sunday A typical Sunday morning. Dreadful pain from intestinal issues. For most of my life, I could address this nightmare with stomach meds, especially paregoric. Today, thanks to the draconian “War on Drugs,” which is really a “War on the Elderly,” I am immobilized for hours at a time and made to drink gallons of herbal tea. That last part was a tip from my super smart sister. Then off across to the east side to see a movie at the American Cinematheque in what was once a chic corner of LA.
No Sense Quarreling – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Last night, my wife and I had an extremely brief quarrel. I thought she was mocking a legal problem I have. I yelled at her about it. She apologized, but I apologized first. And then we watched a spectacular western, The Wild Bunch, which I have seen several times, and so has my wife. I lay next to her in bed and held her hand. She lay next to me and held my hand. In a few minutes, we were both not just calmer, but happy. My wife is a goddess. An actual goddess sent from heaven.
John Coyne, RIP | The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
At first, there were three of us. When I started work as a speechwriter for Richard Nixon in the White House Executive Office Building in the Fall of 1973, I was in a speechwriters’ suite of three extremely well-furnished offices facing 17th Street. I was by far the most junior of them all by experience. The man to my left was Aram Bakshian, Jr., a long-time speechwriter for conservative causes. He was a writer on food and on history.
Life in the Fast Lane – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
I was up almost all night with a cruel stomach and intestinal ailment. Your humble servant has been tormented almost all of my life by Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I come by it honestly. My father, Herbert Stein, suffered from it for most of his life. He was saved by a fine medicine called Lomotil. I inherited the sickness and was saved by a super drug called Paregoric. It’s a mixture of kaopectate and a tiny amount of morphine sulfate. It was prescribed by a doctor, Moskovitz.
Sons and Fathers – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Many years ago, I had the good fortune to hear the genius-divinity, Dr. James Dobson, speak on the radio about rebellious, surly teenage sons. Dr. Dobson made a simply overwhelming point about such kids, one of whom was a certain Tommy Stein: Your sons have an immense reservoir of love for their fathers. No matter how much the boys try to hide it, they love their dads as deep as an ocean. Love was always the answer for Tommy. Do not be put off or turn to anger by such behavior.
It’s Hot Outside – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
We’re having a heat wave, a tropical heat wave…. Here in Beverly Hills, the heat is unusual. Nineties and that is really rare. People are complaining and sweating. No one can believe that I am wearing a wool blazer in this heat. But for a Washingtonian like me, the heat isn’t terribly painful. I grew up in Silver Spring, Maryland, a suburb of D.C. The schools were not air-conditioned. Our house, in a lovely neighborhood, did not have air conditioning until the late 1950s.
Inflation: Meet Stein’s Law – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Now, I put on my economist’s hat and talk to you nice people about inflation. It does not take Adam Smith or Frank Knight to know that we are in a painful inflation. Anyone who buys eggs or gasoline or apple pie knows. Your humble servant sees it clearly and unhappily when I stroll down the aisles of my nearby Pavilions, a truly fine grocery store with great meat, fish, eggs, and everything else at what I had always thought were fair prices.
Insights From a Big Spender – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
I am 80 years old. I have made a lot of mistakes. Almost all of them have to do with money. I’ve done some things right, too. But because I have been writing for The American Spectator most of my life, I would like to share with my readers a few of the bigger mistakes I have made. Almost all of them have to do with money.
Moving on From Financial Trauma – The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
It’s Thursday evening, July 31, 2025. I’m at my desk in my office in Beverly Hills. I have just passed through a difficult week. To make a long, complex story short, several immense financial entities that were holding funds for my goddess wife, Alex, and me, have just spit on us. They had a good chunk of our remaining assets, and they were not permitting those funds to return to us. The total sum was by no means huge.
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