An upsetting afternoon. I was quietly reading the news on my phone about a group of about 20 Palestinian terrorists, young people in their 20s, in a caravan of SUVs flying Palestinian flags. They pulled up in front of a Japanese sushi café a couple of miles from my house, in the lower part of Beverly Hills, a neighborhood largely of older Jewish people.
The young "men" wore all black and were masked.
They jumped out of their SUVs, shouted anti-Semitic trash, then asked, "Who’s Jewish?"
Then they hit some elderly customers and pulled them onto the pavement and kicked their heads. When younger customers, including a Gentile Armenian, tried to save the elderly Jews, the young Palestinians beat them and kicked them. They also sprayed them in their eyes with pepper spray, which hurts like hell.
When several people started to video the terrorism, the young "men" left after landing a few more blows. Some LAPD squad cars appeared but apparently made little of the event.
I was digesting this, along with many other reports of Palestinian terror in L.A. and other cities, as I was driving back from my doctor’s appointment along Santa Monica Boulevard in Century City, a high-end office, cinema, restaurant, and shopping mecca, when an SUV with four dark-skinned (but definitely not black or Hispanic) men pulled up next to my car.
The driver asked me to roll down my passenger side window, which I did. “You just hit my car,” he said. "You have to pull over to see the damage."
I knew I had not hit him, and I knew it was an attempted robbery or carjacking or Palestinian terror act — or all three. So I said, "I know I did not hit your car."
Then I drove east. He kept next to me and insisted I had hit his car and that I must pull over.
Again, I am not a total fool, so I just said, "I know I didn’t hit you. Go away."
Then the driver, with a thick mustache, said, "You look like the kind of man who would like to touch young boys. I have some young boys in my car."
At that point, I rolled up my window and sped away as fast as my car would allow.
To read more of Ben Stein's article visit The American Spectator.
Ben Stein is a writer, an actor, and a lawyer who served as a speechwriter in the Nixon administration as the Watergate scandal unfolded. He began his unlikely road to stardom when director John Hughes as the numbingly dull economics teacher in the urban comedy, "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." Read more more reports from Ben Stein — Click Here Now.
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