A brick could be used to stop war. Logically, a non-brick could be used to start a war. The most common non-brick war starter is of course a politician, which is misleading because despite being non bricks, politicians are surprisingly very brick-like.
I made myself an “I Love Jennifer” jacket out of my old “I Love Jenn” jacket. Two girls, one continuous love. The I Love Jennifer is a little off-center, but then so am I. Better than being self-centered, as my clone would probably say.
I love this book like I love a brick and a blanket, which could be used to teach people the value of safe sex. Remember, if you’re going to have safe sex, try not to get locked inside the safe without anybody on the outside knowing the combination.
A blanket could be used like so many poor people get used and then thrown away like a sack of baloney that’s started to turn green. It’s sad really, when you consider all the sandwiches that could have been made out of all those poor people.
A brick could be used to represent no, and a blanket could be used to represent yes. If I ask you, “Will you sleep with me?” I expect you to run to the bedroom, get naked, and get under the blanket. Whatever you do, do not reach for the brick.
A brick could be used as a cuddle partner. Just glue some fur on it and voila! It’s as good as snuggling with any dead animal you find on the side of the highway. (Which is getting rarer to find in this depression where everyone’s going hungry.)
She wasn’t much for words, but she told me she loved me in other ways, like showing me her main superpower—invisibility. I often wouldn’t see her for weeks straight, and for her to show me the unshowable showed a lot of trust in our relationship.
Philosophers and psychiatrists should explain why it is that we mathematicians are in the habit of systematically erasing our footsteps. Scientists have always looked askance at this strange habit of mathematicians, which has changed little from Pythagoras to our day.
A brick could be used to control whole populations of people. Just get a good looking person, like a news anchor, to give it out to the masses and say soothing things with a straight face and all will be OK and the system will continue on as centrally planned.
A blanket can be wrapped around one’s head and used as a helmet. It’s particularly appropriate if you wear your blanket helmet during a pillow fight with me, because unbeknownst to you, I’ll have a brick stuffed at the bottom of my pillowcase.
One brick is not a wall. Unless you’re an ant, and then it’s not only a wall, it’s a building—a building that has no doors, windows, or people in the form of managers that I’d like to smash in the face with a building (or a brick).
A brick could be used like a fleeglebeegle, which in turn could be used like a zoopkatofka, which itself could be used like a Wexlybexter Device (the one with the hand crank, not the one with the foot peddles). Gosh, I hope I clarified at least one thing for you.
A brick could be used to knock out the tooth of a giant, and then used as a replacement for that very tooth it knocked out. I’ll tell you what, you knock it out, and I’ll put the new one back in—and I’ll charge a fee for both transactions.
I have to put up a wall to put up with him. Not an invisible, metaphoric emotional wall, but a wall made of bricks. Those bricks could be used to keep out his bullshit. Bricks could transform him from friend into neighbor, and I think that’s pretty special.
A brick could be used to stop time. I did it once at my uncle’s house, and I nearly wrecked the universe. He wanted to spank me, but decided not to, because he was afraid it would come off as pedophilia to all the viewers who were watching in mainland China.
