An American spy in Moscow walks into a bar, but the bartender gives him a suspicious glare. "Are you an American spy?"
"Of course not!" replies the American in perfectly fluent Russian. "Could an American do this?" He grabs a bottle of cheap Russian vodka, pours himself three shots of it, and downs them without flinching.
"Good point," replies the bartender, "but I still think you're a spy."
"Could an American do this?" He picks up an accordion and plays some folk songs on it like he'd heard them his whole life.
"Still think you're a spy."
"Could an American do this?" He stands up and flawlessly dances the kazachok.
"Still not convinced, you're definitely a spy."
The American throws up his hands in frustration. "Why could you possibly think I'm an American?!"
"Well for starters, you're black."