A blanket could be shared with someone cold. And if you’re sharing your blanket, they might as well share the blame in getting pregnant. It’s not like they can blame me, because I was in the closet, filming.


A brick could be used as a replacement for an erection. Hey, I did it in the early 2000s, and I gave birth to the housing bubble. Well, I didn’t literally give birth to it, but I did impregnate the housing market. 


A brick could be used to revive the spiritual movement in America. But are we as a people willing to accept the unacceptable into our lives? Sadly, I’m afraid I’m crying at the answer, which I know to be unknowable.

A blanket could be used to keep an iceberg warm. People are so selfish and want to stop global warming. Well, if you were a snowman, and were cold all the time, wouldn’t you welcome a little summer into your winter?


A brick could be used as a key to unlock a door disguised as a brick wall. The security in the lock lies not with a one-of-a-kind key, but with a key that looks like hundreds of other potential keys that make up the door.


A brick could be used like a simile, and I’d like it. But not as much as I’d like it if you used a blanket instead. But don’t use the blanket that’s on my bed, because I’m currently using it.


A blanket could be used to say I’m sorry without using words, gestures, body language, facial expressions, or telepathy. I’ve always thought it was better to show than tell anyway, so I hope you can forgive me.


A brick could be used as a medallion on the end of a necklace, much like human testicles aren’t used. It’s a shame, really, because when you think of all things dangly, male genitals drop down first in my mind.


A pastor, a politician, and a brick walk into a bar, and the bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve rigid nonthinkers here.” So the brick and the pastor look at the politician, who turns around and leaves.


A brick could be used as a cube. No it couldn’t. If you thought it could, you need to be punished. I’m going to recommend to the high school principal that you be forced to repeat geometry—with Mr. Blanket.


A brick could be used for good, or for evil. The Brick of Creation, or the Brick of Destruction. While you’re deep in thought, contemplating which one you’d rather use, I’ll be over there looting your house.


A blanket could be used to say hello to a friend I haven’t spoken to in forever. Forever is a long time, like an eternity, only it feels like just yesterday I started ignoring this friend and acting like he never existed.


A blanket could be used to fix your broken marriage. You’ll also need duct tape, an empty car trunk, a getaway driver, and the most opportune moment to snatch your mother-in-law away to never be seen or heard from again. 


A blanket could be split in two—divided in half, like hereditary territory one inherits. And once you’ve got half the blanket, you’d better stay on your side of the bed—or else I’m going to tell dad.


A blanket could be used to separate the winners from the losers. With the exception of me, all men are losers, and only the winners are allowed under the blanket. Sorry, fellas, but there is nothing I can do about the situation.