A brick could be used to make the world safer for our children. Well, not our children, as I don't actually have any kids—but certainly your children. Skeptical? A brick could better protect your children than all the Federal government agencies combined.
A brick could be used to separate two types of people. On the left is a guy who loves my writing, and on the right is a girl who loves my writing. Now I love both people, but I love the girl in an entirely different way—the kind of way that involves a blanket.
So much for the tolerant acceptance of the other. We’re forging out into deep space – who knows what we’ll meet out there? If we can’t even accept a robot and some talking elephants, what good are we going to be when we meet something really strange?
A brick could be carried to the beach. You can bring your laptop or tablet and work from anywhere in the world, but when you get that brick in the sand, you’re symbolically saying, “This is my building—and my office has the best possible view.”
A blanket could be used to make magical music. And no, I’m not talking about sex and wailing orgasms, you pervert. That’s my sister you’re thinking about. And it’s particularly disgusting and disturbing because I don’t even have a sister.
A blanket could be used as a screen to project animated bedtime stories onto, and also a place to project your fears about society not being accepting of adults who watch movies directed at an audience of four-year-olds. Trust me, I’ve been there—26 years ago.
The chemists are a strange class of mortals, impelled by an almost insane impulse to seek their pleasures amid smoke and vapour, soot and flame, poisons and poverty; yet among all these evils I seem to live so sweetly that may I die if I were to change places with the Persian king.
A blanket could be used to keep people warm. But take it from me: you want to freeze those dead bodies as soon as they’re cold and lifeless, because you don’t want the bodies staying warm and decomposing while you’re looking for a place to dispose of them.
A blanket could be used to put the war in warm. Just paint the blanket like an American flag, and then try to convince the world that they are cold and need us to stop shivering. But before you do, consider they aren’t shivering from cold—they are shaking with rage.
The Builders are building with you in mind, dear citizen, so don’t worry your tiny mind about whether the bricks they are using are going to construct schools or prisons. They won’t tell, and you can’t tell, so just keep watching the news and it will all be OK.
To be surprised, to wonder, is to begin to understand. This is the sport, the luxury, special to the intellectual man. The gesture characteristic of his tribe consists in looking at the world with eyes wide open in wonder. Everything in the world is strange and marvelous to well-open eyes.
A blanket, when taken to the top of a mountain and laid flat, could be painted orange and used as a landing pad for when the aliens come to earth to save humanity. The only problem is, with it being painted orange, what if the construction workers arrive before the extraterrestrials?
It's strange. How hollow i feel. Like there might be echoes inside of me. Like I'm one of those chocolate rabbits they used to sell around Easter, the ones that were nothing more than a sweet shell encapsulating a world of nothing. I'm like that. I encapsulate a world of nothing.
A brick could be used in conjunction with another brick to be the Democrat and Republican Presidential candidates. People will say, Vote for the brick on the left, or, The brick on the right is better. But do not be deceived—they're both the same, and they're both bricks.
Should I go up one flight of stairs and then come back down, or should I go down one flight of stairs and then come back up? Same destination, same distance, same amount of work, but two different paths. Who knows, I might find love on one path. Probably the path I don’t choose.
