”You have got to have more recreation and relaxation,” said Mulla Nasrudin to the overworked friend.
”But I am too busy,” said the friend.
”THAT’S SILLY,” replied Nasrudin. ”ANTS HAVE THE GREATEST REPUTATION FOR BEING BUSY ALL THE TIME, YET THEY NEVER MISS AN OPPORTUNITY TO ATTEND A PICNIC.”
Mulla Nasrudin was visited by a boyhood friend whom he had not seen for years. The man told him a long story of misfortune: bankruptcy, death of wife and children, personal illness. He ended by asking for a loan.
The Mulla called his son and a big, athletic-type walked in. ”TOMMY,” said Nasrudin, ”THROW THIS POOR FELLOW DOWNSTAIRS; HE IS BREAKING MY HEART.”
Mulla Nasrudin had just returned a sheaf of poems to the budding young poet.
”Do you think it would help if I put more fire into my poetry, Sir?” the young man asked Nasrudin.
”NO,” said the Mulla. ”I WOULD RECOMMEND THE REVERSE.”
Mulla Nasrudin finally bought a parrot at an auction after some rather spirited bidding.
”I assume the bird talks,” he said to the auctioneer.
”TALKS?” the auctioneer said. ”WHO DO YOU THINK HAS BEEN BIDDING AGAINST YOU FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR?”
Mulla Nasrudin’s son, studying political science, asked his father, ”Dad, what’s a traitor in politics?”
”Any man who leaves our party,” said the Mulla, ”and goes over to the other one is a traitor.”
”Well, what about a man who leaves his party and comes over to your’s?” asked the young man. ”HE’D BE A CONVERT, SON,” said Nasrudin, ”A REAL CONVERT.”
