special offer: customized mom jokes
Hello new members of and visitors to ldopa.net.
If you act in the next few days, internationally acclaimed author, Jonathan Land will create customized mom jokes for you… ABSOLUTELY FREE.
All I need is a brief description of your enemy’s mother, and I’m good to go.
This is a limited time offer! Whenever I decide to end it, the pricing structure is as follows:
Bad jokes utilizing puns and/or borrowing themes from other Public Domain mom jokes - $1
Moderately funny jokes which some will find brilliant and others stupid - $2
Hysterical jokes with devastating, laser-like accuracy which are based on some sort of truth and are possibly hurtful - $3
Any level joke about Joshua Newman’s mom - Free!
So welcome one and all, and make sure you take care of this limited time ldopa.net exclusive offer!
-Jon
February 3rd, 2006 at 9:30 am
I would like to order a joke about Joshua Newman’s mom that is based upon the many many numerous times that you have had dirty van sex with her. And please make sure you mention the make or model of the van.
February 3rd, 2006 at 9:41 am
Jeff, you’re going to have to be more specific. Besides my “little black book” of moms’ phone numbers, I have a little blue book… actually the Kelley Blue Book… which has the makes, models, and dollar values of thousands of vehicles, along with my markings of the frequency and quality of sex I’ve enjoyed/endured with Joshua Newman’s mom. Referencing a “dirty van” just doesn’t jog my memory enough to construct a joke.
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:00 pm
Hey! That’s MY mom, too, and she is about to unleash a barrage of ninja whip-ass hellfire on you like you have never before seen. Only one who has felt the sheer pants-crapping terror of the fury of Joshua Newman’s mom as I have can attest to the bloodbath she she is about to rain down on your asses. Her kung-fu is unstoppable- believe me, I’ve tried.
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:04 pm
Rachel’s right, you know. My mom is not only a ninja, but a spaceman, a clown, and a chef, too!
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:06 pm
Consider yourselves warned.
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:16 pm
Yeah… your mom’s kung-fu is very stoppable. In the same way turpentine strips paint, a 40 of Old English strips your mom.
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:22 pm
Well, Jon Land’s mom strips, period.
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:25 pm
(trombone walla)
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:31 pm
That’s the only noise Cauley has been able to make since my mom ripped out his vocal cords with her razor-sharp ninja fangs.
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:32 pm
That’ll teach him to be ten minutes late for shabbos.
February 3rd, 2006 at 2:51 pm
You mom’s ears are SO sensitive that she wears EARPLUGS to a LOW concert!
February 3rd, 2006 at 4:01 pm
Your mom is so fat when you draw any three point on her, Ceva’s Theorem fails to work even if she went under a f’(x) = f(nx) transformation as n approaches infinity!
February 3rd, 2006 at 4:09 pm
I should slit your voice-box for that.
February 3rd, 2006 at 4:34 pm
Mr. Land-
I would like to request your services with regard to the mother of my friend, Bob. Like her cancer, I was inside Bob’s mom for 16 months, and both she and Bob hate me for it. Unfortunately, the beast that this ritual became would not be content to remain a whispering specter, a bookmark of the experience that would haunt the darkest halls of my memory until the apparition was conjured and called into view for my own reflection or the wonder of others. This episode left a much more permanent stain. You see, the incident left Bob’s mom very big with my child and the doctors were never sure whether the myriad difficulties with the pregnancy were a result of her drug abuse, the stress from her “cutting”, or my undeveloped 11-year-old semen. In any event, the delivery was wrought with complications, and the brutality of the deliverance matched with the unfit medical conditions of a circa 1981 Ulaanbaatar left her in terrible shape and quite septic. It was a wonder she survived at all. I would take the bus home from school every day, throw down my lunch box and –time difference be damned– pick up the phone to check in on Bob’s mom. After 8 months of therapy, it became clear that though she would live, she would be blind and without the use of her right arm. To make matters worse, the near constant bed rest of the first 12 weeks left her with terrible sores on her legs and feet that persistently rejected healing because of her crippling diabetes. They had to take her left foot below the ankle, and eventually the leg just below the knee. However, barring the actual sex, not one bit of this entire ordeal ever shook her faith in our lord God, and she remained at the same time a devout student and an unwearied teacher of the Faith until her death 20 years ago.
So please, Mr. Land, have the arsenal that is your lexicon at the ready, and detonate a verbal bomb with all the savagery of Hiroshima. I beg this of you not because I hold any quarrel with my friend Bob; he has actually been nothing short of astounding raising his little half-brother into the early republican favorite for the United States Presidency in 2012. I want this done because I could think of no more perfect homage that would so completely swathe that elegant whore in tribute like the Hefty bags that swaddle her black and necrotic corpse at the bottom of that Tulsa landfill.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
February 3rd, 2006 at 6:30 pm
This isn’t my best work, but I’d say:
Bob, did you know your mom was a cadaver long before she died? I could-have-her anytime I wanted!
Sorry, my mind was blown watching Dave Chappelle on Oprah.
November 6th, 2007 at 9:29 pm
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