Avinoam, the barber, is one of my few connections to the world of amcha yisrael which is a polite way of saying the common people, the hoi polloi. The time before last I had him trim my locks (if only) he was waxing ecstatic about the virtues of Philippine women. He had visited a friend who had recently met and married one (a foreign worker) through a dating agency. Avinoam thought he had died and gone to heaven.
I tried to explain that in this day and age, a marriage is potentially more than a master-slave arrangement. Avinoam, starry-eyed and clearly fantasizing about his future life with the perfect Phillipine servant-wife, was having none of it.