Retiring from a big corporate¹ job in LA, Marvin moves to Tel Aviv. (So nu, you were thinking maybe he'd move to a kibbutz?)

Wanting to contribute to nation-building somehow he focuses on stock-trading, the only vocation² he knows. But, to commute³ to his new humble⁴ penthouse office, he refuses to drive a Mercedes like everyone else so he buys himself ... a camel.

Every night Marvin parks his camel in the garage under his Tel Aviv Condo and the next morning he mounts the camel for the commute to his new office in Ramat Gan.

One day Marvin comes down to the parking garage and the camel is gone ... stolen!

He calls the police who arrive within minutes. The first question is "What color was your camel?"

Marvin replies he doesn't remember, "Probably camel colored I guess ... sort of brownish-greyish."

"And how many humps on your camel?' asks the policeman.

"Who counts humps ... one, maybe two, I don't know for sure."

"And the height of the camel, sir?"

"What's with these dumb questions?" Marvin asks. "The camel was about three feet taller than I am. So maybe 9 feet, 10 feet. I can't be certain."

"Just one last question to complete my report, sir. Was the camel male or female?"

"Ah, that I know for sure he was a male."

"How can you be so certain of his sex when you don't remember anything else about your camel" asks the policeman.

"Well," says Marvin, "everyone knows he's a male. Every day I'd ride the camel to work through the streets of Tel Aviv and people would stop and say to each other ... 'Look at the schmuck on that camel!' "

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