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to read Mulla Nasrudin's handwriting. "Mulla, this handwriting is so bad I can hardly read it," he said. "Why didn't you type out these poems before you brought them in?"
"TYPE THEM!" cried Nasrudin. "DO YOU THINK FOR A MOMENT THAT IF I COULD TYPE, I WOULD BE WASTING MY TIME TRYING TO WRITE POETRY?"
169.
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."
170.
Mulla Nasrudin was obviously envious of the rich man who had just given him a dollar.
"You have no reason to envy me," said the rich man, "even if I do look prosperous. I have my troubles, too, you know."
"YOU HAVE PROBABLY GOT PLENTY OF TROUBLES," said Nasrudin, "BUT THE DIFFERENCE IS, I AIN'T GOT NOTHING ELSE, SIR."
171.
"I am going to get a divorce," a friend told Mulla Nasrudin. "My wife has not spoken to me in three months."
"I'D THINK TWICE IF I WERE YOU," said the Mulla. "WIVES LIKE THAT ARE HARD TO FIND."
172.
Mulla Nasrudin was telling a friend his future through palmistry. He said, "You will be poor and unhappy and miserable until you are sixty."
"Then what?" asked the man hopefully.
"BY THAT TIME," said Nasrudin, "YOU WILL BE USED TO IT."
173.
Mulla Nasrudin was sitting on his cot in a flophouse.
"You know," he said to the fellow on the next cot, "when I was seventeen years old, I made up my mind that nothing was going to stop me from getting rich."
"Well, how came you never got rich?" his friend asked.
"OH," said Nasrudin, "BY THE TIME I WAS NINETEEN, I REALIZED IT WOULD BE EASIER TO CHANGE MY MIND."
174.
"My wife used to play the piano," a friend told Mulla Nasrudin, "but since the children came, she has not had time to touch it."
"CHILDREN SOMETIMES ARE A COMFORT, ARE THEY NOT?" said Nasrudin.
175.
The situation
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