Born to Morocco

Hey there, hi there, ho there, Moorishgirlsketeers! Jim Ruland here to fill in. Where did Laila go? Hmmmm, not sure if I should say (Hint: it is always harvest season somewhere). Why me? I am not really sure, especially since I am neither a) Moorish, nor b) a girl. I have been to Morocco but just for three days and I only made it as far as Asilah, which is about 45 minutes down the coast from Tangier, and going there and no farther is a little like fleeing Tijuana for a weekend in Ensenada and then telling people you have been to Mexico. Tip of the iceberg and all that. Not that it will stop me from giving you a blow-by-blow account of every hashish-fueled, paranoia-laced second of that World Cup/Ewing vs. Oljuwan/OJ Simpson-what-have-you-done? whirlwind summer in the days that follow.

Not enough?

How about this this: I am of the opinion that Jane Bowles was a better writer than her husband. (The word on the street is she was way better in bed, but do not quote me on that.) Anyone with me on this? Can I get a hallelujah?

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