Moscow Diary. By An American Living in Moscow. Francesca de Bardin

«I want to sign up for the waiting list for a car. How long is it?»

      Clerk: «Precisely 10 years from today.»

      Customer: «Morning or evening?»

      Clerk: «Why, what difference does it make?»

      Customer: «The plumber’s due in the morning.»

      “The C.I.A. sent a spy to the Soviet Union who had incredible qualifications. He was fluent in Russian, had a vast knowledge of Soviet culture and mannerisms, and could keep up his act with a belly full of vodka. The spy was dropped in a remote village where he approached a man and said, in perfect Russian, ‘Hello comrade, can you please tell me which direction is Moscow?” The man looked at him, then walked inside. Within minutes, the K.G.B. was swarming the village and arrested the spy. While being interrogated, the K.G.B. officials said, “Quit the act, we know you’re an American spy.” The spy was baffled that they were able to tell so quickly, but tried to keep up the act for as long as he could. When he finally cracked, he said, “Alright, alright, I’m a spy. I will tell you whatever you want, but please just tell me how you knew I was a spy because I devoted my whole life to perfecting my Soviet character.” The official said, “You’re black.””