Mulla Nasrudin
sidled up to a guest at one of his daughter's social evenings. He had heard him addressed as
doctor, and now he said, diffidently, "Doctor, may I ask a question?"
"Certainly,"
he said.
"Lately,"
said Mulla Nasrudin, "I have been having a funny pain right here under the
heart..."
The guest
interrupted uncomfortably and said, "I am terribly sorry, Mulla, but the
truth is I am a Doctor of
Philosophy."
"Oh,"
said Nasrudin, "I'm sorry." He turned away, but then, overcome with
curiosity, he turned back. "Just one more
question, doctor. Tell me, what kind of disease is philosophy?"