There was a New York rabbi whose son got a job transfer to Louisiana.
Two weeks later, the son phoned the father: “Dad, I met a girl, fell in love, and we’re gonna get married.”
The rabbi said, “Son, you know what they say about those Southern belles. They can’t cook, they can’t clean house, they don’t make love, and she’s gonna call you Jew Boy for the rest of your life.”
The son replied, “I don’t care. I love her and I’m going to marry her.”
Two weeks later, the son called the father again. “Dad, I married her!”
The rabbi said, “What about all the things I warned you about?
“Dad, she cooks like a dream, she keeps the house spic-and-span, and loves making love.” “What about the last thing?
“We came to an understanding. She doesn’t call me Jew Boy and I don’t call her Schvartza.”