If my semen had chunks of crumbled brick in it, would you use yogurt to try to impregnate your fireplace? 


A brick could be used as one ingredient on the greedy Cake of Love. Other ingredients include: Everything.


A brick should decide who gets to rule the people, and I should decide what rules determine whom the brick favors.

A brick could be used as a basketball. And when you miss a shot, you can always shout, “Brick!”


Kick the blanket, don’t kick the bucket—especially if that bucket is full of death (or bricks).


A blanket could be used to spread the love around. Tuck it in at the edges, so nobody can hog all the amor.


A brick could be used to remind me of her. I mean everything else reminds me of her, so why not a brick too?


A brick could deliver the zeitgeist through the thick skull of a politician faster than any letter or email.


A brick could replace the cardboard bill on a baseball cap. On a windy day, no gust will knock your hat off.


A brick could be used to deny you your dreams. And a blanket could be used as a gateway to all your dreams. 


A brick could be used to tell time. And just between you and me, I hope that brick tells time to go to hell.


Cats are living, breathing blankets. But a blanket, no matter how furry, cannot be used like a purrless cat.


A blanket could be used to cover up the bald spot all over my chest. That’s why I get so cold at night.


A brick could be used as the ultimate bug crusher. But why you’d use a brick as a shoe, I have no idea.


A blanket could be used as a scapegoat. But I’d rather use real goats, because they make better cheese.