A brick could be used to represent my hero. My hero obviously doesn’t look like a brick, but since he is my hero I decided to represent him as more handsome and interesting than he really is. Who’s my hero? Any member of Congress.
A brick could be used as a musical instrument. It doesn’t matter how bad it sounds, because I’ll be the band’s lead singer, and my sexy voice is like melted butter on a corn on the cob lodged directly into your anus.
A brick could be planted on a farm, in the hopes that a house will spring up come harvest. But that idea is ridiculous, because we’re in a drought, and there simply hasn’t been enough rain to yield a crop of that magnitude.
A blanket could be used to store valuable information that will keep future generations warm overnight. And just so you know, it wasn’t me that farted in the blanket. That’s a bit too much information, don’t you think?
The bad news is most of my books are ebooks and aren't for sale in brick-and-mortar bookstores. The good news is that most of my books are ebooks and are perfect for emailing and I'm perfectly willing to give them away for free.
A brick could be used to foretell the future. Here’s my prediction: Tomorrow will happen. If I’m right, the brick was correct, and if I’m wrong, we’ll all be dead and my prognostication record remains unblemished.
A blanket could be used as a tank, if you rearrange the letters and leave out the leb. But why would you leave out the leb? That’s the most dangerous part. (The leb is the most dangerous part, because it’s the unknown).
A blanket could be used to represent the Rectangle of Desire. In nine out of ten cases, it was more effective than Viagra. The tenth case was found to contain a lot of cash, and the participant made off with the money without completing the study.
A brick could be used to help you become the next Great American Novelist. Hopefully after you use it to crack your own skull, and not too long after your death, the public will realize your genius and celebrate the greatness that was you.
A blanket could be used to say hello to all the goodbyes I was too blind to hear. I’m hungry for a bowl full of mute, but my favorite restaurant is out of the Helen Keller Special. When they are out it, it means they are fully stocked.
A brick could be substituted in for Rhode Island as a US state, because they’re roughly the same size, the have the same population (the brick may have one less person), and Grandma Kintz makes the best Excuse Soup in the entire state.
A blanket could be reverse engineered to discover the origin of sleep. If we could figure out where sleep comes from, we’d know where it goes to while we’re awake, instead of thinking it just disappears like a vanishing magician.
A brick could be renamed something clever and cute, like President, and repackaged and resold to a solid base of sheep consumers every four years. The sheeple will never even notice that every new model of brick is exactly like the last brick!
A flag could be used as a blanket, but a blanket couldn’t be used as a flag. A blanket provides real warmth, not the pseudo warmth that patriotism provides. A blanket-flag would leave you shivering—not from cold, but from cowardice.
A brick could be dropped at the feet of your enemy, as a gift, as an insult, as a way of saying “I’ll tear down the wall between us—and tear down the walls of your life.” Then you might try offering him a cheese sandwich.
