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Jokes about Jewish Sons and Parents

January 5, 2020 | by Marnie Winston-Macauley

So David receives a parrot for his Bar Mitzvah…

We Jews have long seen the role of “Jewish parent” as one of reverence and teaching. (Do they listen? Feh!) Let’s look at some classic jokes and real anecdotes that highlight the special relationship between Jewish sons and their parents. The first is one of my personal favorites.


David received a parrot for his Bar Mitzvah. This parrot had one bad attitude and a worse vocabulary. David tried to teach him manners, but the bird just got ruder and cruder. Desperate, David put him in the freezer to cool him off. He heard squawking, then quiet. Frightened, David quickly opened the freezer.

The parrot calmly walked out and said: "I'm sorry I offended you, Master David. I shall go to synagogue, pray, and modify my behavior.” Before David could ask about this astounding change, the parrot continued, "Sir ... may I ask what the Empire chicken did?!"

Believe it or not, many don’t get this one. But We Jews, with our Yiddishkeit and our brilliant imaginations can visualize the humor of the parrot, who upon seeing the “disciplined” frozen chicken, walked out in repentance. Jewish hysterical!


A teen asked his father, a rabbi, if they could discuss the use of the car.

His father said, "I'll make you a deal. Study the Torah more, get your hair cut and we'll talk about it."

A month passed and once again the teen approached his father.

"True, you've studied the Torah diligently, but you didn't get your hair cut!" said the Rabbi.

“Dad, I’ve been thinking, Samson had long hair. So did Abraham, Noah, and even Moses! ”

To which rabbi replied, “Aha! And they also walked everywhere!”

He was sitting in front of a heap of papers, covered with mathematical formulae. Writing with his right hand and holding his younger son in his left he kept replying to questions from his elder son who was playing with his bricks. — A student.

Who was this 21st. century-style hands-on dad? The greatest mind of the 20th century – Albert Einstein! In the early 1900's, the genius frequently walked a baby carriage bearing sons Hans Albert or Eduard, then stopped to write an equation. E=MC2 could have been easily misread, for the baby spittle!


One of the many things that makes Jews – well, Jews – is our unique perspective on just about everything. Whether it involves creative reasoning or humor, our viewpoint has a Yiddishe spin:

Benjamin, unlike his immigrant father, had the benefit of higher education and was a regular “intellectual” at home, always spouting philosophy.

“Papa, I accept the universe as it is,” stated the “intellectual” pompously.

Papa thought for a while before answering. “Nu, Benjy,” he countered, “and if you didn’t?”


Momma and Poppa got no joy from us kids. They raised us to the point where we could produce grandchildren. We were dopes. These are smart. Smart? GENIUSES. If we went to the park, they called us loafers. The baby is dragged because it’s good for him. He can’t walk yet but there’s a bicycle waiting for him. We missed the best things in life.

We should have been grandchildren . . . Excerpt from Sam Levinson’s “Meet the Folks.”


Adele’s 10-year-old son, Joey, panicked whenever she served kreplach. So Joey’s parents who took him to a psychiatrist, who suggested the boy watch mom prepare the dish, and once he saw the ingredients, problem solved. That night, Adele showed her son the dough and chopped meat, as they all watched, fingers crossed.

“See darling? Is there anything to worry about?”

“No,” said Joey.

“Now I’m putting meat in the center of the dough and folding one corner.” Joey was smiling. She folded a second and third corner. All was going terrifically.

Then, she folded the final corner. Suddenly, Joey started running! “Kreplach!”

Since my little son is only half-Jewish, would it be all right if he went into the pool only up to his waist? – Groucho Marx, addressing a country club that would not admit his son.


Sheldon excitedly told his parents he fell in love and was getting married.

“Just for fun, I'm going to bring over three women and you guess which one I'm going to marry." Mama and Papa agreed.

The next day he brought three beauties who sat on the sofa and chatted with Mama and Papa over a little cake. After they left, he challenged, "Okay! Guess which one I'm going to marry?"

“The one in the middle with the red hair,” they replied together instantly.

"You're right! But ... how did you know?" asked Sheldon, amazed.

"Simple. Her, we don't like."


The first Jew to run for VP from a major party was Senator Joseph Lieberman (2000)

But more: Marcia “Baba” Lieberman, his Yiddishe mama, played matchmaker for “machers” – and sent food. “Baba” invited Al Gore over for a little cake and coffee, and sent reporters care packages with bagel chips, postcards (to write their mothers ), with the following handwritten note: "Please be kind to my son! Enjoy. Marcia Lieberman (Joe's mom!). "


Morty made a killing in the stock market, so he bought a yacht and all the fittings. Then he invited mama and papa to take a look.

“Some yacht, huh, Mama? So, what do you think of your boychick now?”

“Nice,” murmured Mama.

“Right,” added Papa.

“See?” Morty said, pointing to his epaulets. “I’m a regular Captain now.”

His parents rolled their eyes.

“Well,” said Morty, indignant. “You don’t seem very impressed.”

“Morty, darling” said papa. “By me you’re a captain, by the neighbors you’re a captain — but believe me sonny, by a captain, you’re no captain!”


Science fiction legend Isaac Asimov related this story about his Jewish mother in “It's Been a Good Life.”

“My mother, who came from Russian, decided to go to night school and learn how to write English. One of the teachers finally asked her, ‘Pardon me, Mrs. Asimov, are you by any chance a relation of the brilliant Isaac Asimov?’”

“My mother, who was four feet, ten inches tall, drew herself up to her full height and said, proudly, ‘Yes. He is my dear son.’”

“‘Aha,’ said the teacher, ‘no wonder you’re such a good writer.’”

“‘I beg your pardon,' said my mother, freezingly. ‘No wonder he’s such a good writer.’”

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