A brick could be used to tell how hard the wind is blowing. If the wind blows the brick around, I’d get out of there immediately.


My routine is comforting, like a comforter. But a blanket could easily be used to replace my routine, because a comforter is a blanket.


A brick could be used as toilet paper—especially if you just shit a brick. You could shit and wipe your way to a wall of privacy.


A blanket could be used to express my condolences. I’m sorry to have to tell you I’m sorry, but that’s life, you know?


A brick could be placed in the trunk of a car manufacturer’s competitor, to increase the odds of decreasing their fuel efficiency.


A blanket could be used to warn your enemy that you are coming—and that you are warm. Where’s the cold war when you need it?


A brick could be used to sell tickets to a new sport called Glurping. If you think it sounds disgusting now, wait until you see it live!


A blanket could be used to lure politicians to your side of an issue. Which is your side? Easy—the side I’m not sleeping on.


A brick could be used as 1,2, and 4. But not 3. No, 3 is too holy for a brick. 3 is a number so magical it can only be used by a blanket.


I make love like sausage is to bacon as brick is to blanket. Somebody get me some utensils. And some lubrication (not Castrol Motor Oil).


A brick could be used as man’s best friend, if you covered it in fur and taught it to bark and shit in your neighbor’s yard. 


A blanket could be used to cover up Jude McNude. But despite his last name, he isn’t nude, merely cold. No, I’m the naked one.


A blanket could be used to attract a potential mate. I’ve already got my mate. I bought her in a mannequin store (she was on sale). 


A brick could be used for pressing grapes into wine, and a magician could then cover up that wine with a blanket and turn wine into water.


A brick could be used as a Red Beard Replacement, for those of us who can’t grow facial hair, but desire the respect a beard brings.