In my Marrakech Journal today, I say, “The Star of David is the symbol of Morocco. It’s woven into everything, including the logo of Royal Air Maroc. For some reason, I have a feeling they don’t call it the Star of David in Morocco.” I was being a little cheeky — too cheeky. Readers have written to say, “The Moroccan star has five points, the Star of David six.” Gotcha. Who’s counting? (Numbers have never been my strong suit.)
Also, I make a remark about pollution: about pollution in the “developing” world — Thou shalt not say Third — versus pollution in the United States. Compared with other places, the United States is like the most sterilized room at the Mayo Clinic or something. Anyway, I thought of something I read recently, in The New Republic (here): “. . . your Navigator drowns Bangladeshis.”
I suppose I’m in apples-and-oranges territory here. But may I say I just don’t believe it — don’t believe that our SUVs drown Bangladeshis? Does that make me a crude, right-wing, anti-science “denier”? Okay, then.
In that journal today, I use the word “kempt.” Then I say, “Not used to seeing ‘kempt’ without the un-, huh?” A reader sent me this Ogden Nash poem, “My Dream”:
This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.
Whoa, sexy. Finally, want to tell you this: All over the Medina here in Marrakech this morning, I saw the word “Derb” — meaning “Dead End.” Well, our Derb is anything but a dead end, isn’t he?
Talk to you later.