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 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 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. 


Bricks, bricks, and bricks could be used instead of gold, silver, and bronze medals in the Olympics. If all an athlete cares about is winning, then I’ll take the precious metal off the international communities’ hands.


A blanket could be used like a Love Fleece. I imagine you’re shaking your head. Do you disagree? Fine, then when you’re shivering, I won’t ask if it’s because you’re cold—or because you’re lonely.

A brick could be used in speech therapy, to cure a stutter. I mean look at me, I don't have a stutter. But to be fair, I never did have a stutter, so I can't be certain the presence of a brick had any positive effect at all.


A blanket could be hooked to ropes and attached to the body of a swimmer in training, to provide resistance and increase strength and endurance. Those very same ropes could be used to tie me to my bed, to keep me from falling asleep.


A blanket could be used to wrap up all the love I have to offer you, so it’ll be easier for you to carry it across the desert. You’d better get walking, because me and my camel won’t be stopping until we have to pee.


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 brick could be used as a response when the cops ask you if you murdered your mother-in-law. Forget yes or no. Well, forget yes altogether, but use brick for every response except one: What object did you use to carry out the killing?


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 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?


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).