Soldier: Glory! We're off on Thursday! Let me give you the
phone number where I'll be.
Osama: Great, give it to me.
Soldier: You don't have a pen.
Osama: I can remember it.
Solider: You don't want to write it down?
Osama: No, I can remember.
Soldier: O.K., you would dial zero zero six nine five three
eight four twelve twelve six two fourteen ten four seven seven one
eight nineteen eight six seven.
Osama: O.K., I got it.
Soldier: You're sure? You want to say it back to me?
Osama: No, not necessary; I got it. Regular bunch of numbers.
Now go! Virgins!
* From The New Yorker, March 7,
2005, vol. 81, no. 3, p. 47, the "Shouts & Murmurs" section.