Shakespeare: Othello

It is the stink, it is the stink, my God,--
Please do not smell it yourself, you weak hearts!--
It is The Stink. Your mother carries in her parts;
Fills up the loose fit trash bag in her pants.
Bits, rough like unsanded alabaster.
I must try, lest she screw some other friend.
Put out the light, and then put out the light:
And put it out again. My eyes dare not
Look at your mom's acne and open sores
And not arouse me: but put out thy light!
Thou mom's loose cunt of excreting nature,
Stygian heat, tropical wetness, fear.
Fucking your mom is a difficult chore.
I cannot give it vital growth again.
My penis withers: Your mom kills my lust.

original here

Shakespeare: Julius Caesar

"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury your mom, not to praise her.
The gas that fatties pass lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their chicken bones;
So let it be with your mom. The noble Brutus
Hath told you that your mom was flatulent:
If it were so, it was a grievous fart,
And grievously hath your mom flaunted it.
Here, under a dutch oven -
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men -
Come I to choke on the trapped fumes.
Your mom was a slut, and gave up her snatch easily:
But Brutus says she was flatulent;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
Your mom hath brought many tricks home
Whose issue did her cheeks fill:
Did this in your mom seem flatulent?
When that it was offered, your mom hath smoked crack:
Fatties should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says she was flatulent;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that at Taco Bell
I thrice presented her a Chalupa,
Which she did thrice wolf down with hot sauce.
Yet Brutus says it gave her the shits;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know,
that her clitoris is so long
you can tie it in a knot.
You all did her, not without cash:
What cause withholds you then, to poop on her chest?
O crack whore! thou art sucking cock for a rock,
And men have lost their nut upon her face. Bear with me;
My sperm is in the hair of your mom,
And I must pause till her smell dissipates."

Oscar Wilde #1

"Do you have anything to declare?"

"Only my genius. And that your poor dear mater is so unbeholden to the eye of the beholder that when she saw the Portrait of Dorian Gray, she thought happily that she was looking in a mirror."

Kafka #1

K. woke with a start, for he swore he heard something close by. Something thumping ominously with the machinery of the modern age and ennui and desperation. In the darkness, his eyes clawed the dark fruitlessly. K. wanted to scream but dared not, and knew that his apprehension was most probably unfounded. Still the regular thumping of something ominous couldn't just be from the silence of his own imagination. Something was there, K. was sure of that. He felt his pulse join the rhythm of the horrible thing in the dark, until he couldn't differentiate between the sound coming from his temples and the sound coming from the darkness.

K. lay there in horror, petrified and exasperated. He shut his eyes again, to darkness only marginally darker than what he had experienced with his eyes open, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again. The thumping was this there. In his heart, in his temple, and in the dark. K. steeled himself and turned on the light, and there in the corner, was the object of his fascination, his horror.

The washing machine he had patronized at a laudromaut a week earlier. He hissed at it--"I dropped my load in you last week, and you still follow me. Who do you think you are? Andrew's mother?"

Mom Rider

Mom Rider.
A shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist.

Mom Rider.
A young loner on a crusade to champion the cause of the nasty, the fat, the ugly in the world of crack addicts who operate above your living room.

Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

Your mom has been well traveled

and I prefer virgin ground.

And that has made all the difference.

Hemingway #1

The bull snorted, and ran towards the woman. She spun quickly, and the bull ran around her. When the bull was finished running around her, the bull fell down dead from exhausation. Because the woman was fat. The woman was your mother. Your mother is fat.

Cory Doctorow #1

"I was perusing a LOLcats/graphic novel mash-up on Worth1000, when I discovered a nice throwaway joke from my favorite webcomic xckd that featured myself, in my googles and cape, exclaiming, 'Your momma got some steampunk titties--odd looking, old feeling, and not quite real!"

Coleridge #1: Kubla Khan

"Your Mama, did Kubla Khan
upon her stately pleasure-domes pee:
Where urea, his sacred river, ran
to her caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless queef.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With sugar walls hair-girdled round:
And her knockers bright with urine spills,
Where blossomed many a stretch mark;
And here were age-spots ancient as the hills,
Enfolding splattered spots of farts."

-- Kubla Khan

The Catcher In The Rye

"He was telling her about some pro football game he'd seen that afternoon. He gave her every single goddamn play in the whole game -- I'm not kidding. He was the most boring guy I ever listened to. And you could tell his date wasn't even interested in the goddamn game, but she was even funnier-looking than he was, so I guess she had to listen. Real ugly girls have it tough. I feel so sorry for them sometimes. Sometimes I can't even look at them, especially when they're with some dopey guy that's telling them all about a goddamn football game. But to hell with it, they're your goddamn parents."

-- J.D. Salinger

Samuel Beckett #1

contributed by Miwacar:

Your mother is so obese, that the character I have created and brought into this realm, who is in turn writing this joke, from a small house inside my very own head—a house sparsely decorated and completely unkempt, tells us that she wears a previously unknown video recording implement, incorrectly I might add, as another previously unknown gadget that tells one who wears it, that someone is attempting to contact them.

Stoicism

"On the occasion of every accident that befalls you, remember to turn to yourself and inquire what power you have for turning it to use, and could that power do something about swabbing out your mom's jelly hole."

-- Epictetus

Confucious #1

“In any family unit, there is a hierarchy. A child will honor his parents. When he becomes a parent, he will expect the same out of his children. That is how society is maintained. However, if your mother is so fat that she eats not just all the rice, but all the paddies, you should not honor her. She is too fat to be honored.”

Confucious, The Analects of Your Fat Mother

Charles Dickens #1

"The knowledge is well known and commonly held, far and wide, in taverns and churches; squalorous cottages and royal residences; in the labor-fed fields and in the workaday cities, that in truth of fact, your mother is so lacking intellectual capacity that she is known to sit on the entertainment, and watch the furniture."

Charles Dickens, Essay: "Your Dearest Mother Is Ignorant, Rotund, and Promiscious: Part the Third"