Mulla Nasrudin and his young son were driving in the country one winter. It was snowing. Their bullock-cart broke down. They finally reached a farmhouse and were welcomed for the night. The house was cold, and the attic in which … Continue reading →

“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.

The situation was desperate. Mulla Nasrudin had been bitten by a rabid dog and the doctors were not certain that he had begun treatment in time to save him. After a consultation on the matter, they came into the room … Continue reading →

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 … Continue reading →

“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.”

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 … Continue reading →

The editor tried hard 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 … Continue reading →

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 … Continue reading →

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.” … Continue reading →

Mulla Nasrudin, carrying a chair, walked up to the owner of a secondhand store and asked how much it was worth. “Three dollars,” said the secondhand dealer. The Mulla seemed surprised. “Isn’t it worth more than that?” he said. “Three … Continue reading →