January 26, 2003

Speaking of the New Yorker. I know it's only a little Shouts & Murmurs piece and all, but I'm surprised that the New Yorker's celebrated fact-checking machine let the following through:
(from Bruce McCall's "Saddam's Surprisingly Sentimental Last Will")

It is my long-standing desire, and certainly not part of some diabolical escape ploy, that my valuable private collection of false Iranian, Panamanian, Paraguayan, and Syrian passports [...] be immediately FedExed to the address written on the scrap of paper stuck between pages 201 and 202 of the paperback edition of "Hollywood Wives" in the private library of my office suite at the Hall of the Heroes, Baghdad [...].
Now, I unfortunately misplaced by copy of "Hollywood Wives" during the move, but in every other book I own pages 201 and 202 are printed on opposite sides of the same piece of paper, making this an especially devious hiding place.
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