It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin was sitting outside a tea house with a small group of friends. It was a pleasant day, and the sunlight was shimmering on the surface of the nearby river. Do not ask how, but the conversation had gone in such a direction that Nasruddin had just declared to his friends that, as a highly educated Mullah, he of course had mystical powers.

“Mystical powers?” said one of the group. “If you have mystical powers, go bring us some fish from the river. Half a dozen should make us a nice meal.”

“Friend,” said the Mullah, “I said I had mystical powers. I didn’t say I was a fisherman!”