A brick could be used like ice cream. But hold up, hold up. Let me put a bowl under it before you start licking, or else you’ll drip brick all over my blanket.


A blanket could be used to represent my feelings for you. I think it’s slightly more communicative than me giving you a scrap of paper with a doodle of an erect penis.

A brick has ten holes in two rows lining the center—perfect so that you and nine of your friends can each stick your little dicks in the brick after a few beers.


A brick is a mythical object that empowers its handler and enables them to conquer the world and control the globe through secret occult knowledge. Just ask the Masons.


A brick could be used for job security, like an employment paperweight. Hey, in this economic depression, I’ll take anything I can get to help me hold down a job.


A brick could be an object to measure your life against. Are you square, rigid, and inflexible? If yes, are you in the military? If no, why are you acting like a brick?


A blanket could be used as an example for how you should make important decisions. Don’t give me a yes or a no now. Sleep on it and get back to me in the morning. 


A blanket could be used to cover Mt. Rushmore. But if you rush more, you’re going to rip the blanket in the same way that the very fabric of our democracy is torn.


A blanket could be used to suppress yawns. Just curl up in the technological wonder that is a blanket, lay your head back, and let the miracle of science cure your yawns.


Instead of Rock, Paper, Scissors, you could play Brick, Blanket, Action Fingers, in which brick cripples action fingers, blanket smothers brick and action fingers beats blanket.

I’m not blanketing the truth when I say: Give a man a brick, and he’ll fish for a day. But give a man a fish, and he’ll brick for the rest of his life. 


Four bricks could be affixed under a skateboard and used as really inefficient wheels. Ha! Let’s see Tony Hawk do tricks on that board. Actually, he probably could.


A brick could be used as a substitute for the brother I never had. It seems ridiculous, but I’ve always wanted a brother who was smarter than the average politician.


A brick could be God’s gift to man (and woman), and we wouldn’t even know it because we’re all obsessed with iPads, luxury cars, and of course, my body. 


A brick could be used to squiggle your signature with. And while you’re in the autographing mood, why don’t you sign your name at the bottom of the lunch bill.