A blanket could be used as a water purification device. Place it between a flowing water source and your storage barrel and let the blanket filter out impurities. Then after your water is pure, drop a brick in the barrel, and let the water molecules take on a brick-like structure. Drinking this water is a great way to build up your body’s defenses—especially from invading Mongol hordes from the north.
Nobody’s going to notice what’s not there, unless something was there and now is not. But if it wasn’t there all along, it’s mine for the taking, and nobody’s going to say nothing. It’s not stealing if I take something that isn’t there, even if I do so sneakily and I wait until nobody’s looking. But I don’t care if nobody is looking at me, because stare all day long, nobody doesn’t exist.
A brick could be used as a doorstop. But that’s obvious. What isn’t obvious is why somebody would want to stop a door, since doors represent openness. What is that person hiding behind that door that they want to stop people from opening it up? I don’t know, but it’s got to be diabolical, and if anything is to be stopped, it’s not the door—it’s the evil plan by the Door Master to take over the world.
I wish kids at school would quit calling me a porno dork-face, though. There wasn't any sex involved! I got knocked out, I panicked and called the cops. Okay, somewhere along the line everybody's clothes fell off, but that's not exactly a federal crime. Is it? I hope you don't work for the FBI. (You don't, do you?)- Email Excerpt (Page: 21) From: Douglas Bracken To: Dr. Rita I. MiltonSent: Friday, November 08 - 5:05 PMSubject: Pressing Concerns
If a blanket could be used to keep one person warm, then it stands to reason that all the blankets in the world are to blame for global warming, and I think our political leaders, with all their wisdom, should confiscate all blankets and burn them. The cure for Global Warming is to start a massive bonfire, and while the earth will surely get warmer in the short term, in the end we’ll all be like Keynes’ corpse anyway, so what’s it really matter?
But you cannot know the glimpses I have had, you cannot know there is another, dazzling place, that seems to welcome me! I have been led to it, Helen, by someone marvellous and strange. You won't know this. They will tell you of her, and they will make her seem squalid and ordinary, they will turn my passion into something gross and wrong. You will know, that it is neither of those things. It is only love, Helen - only that.I cannot live, and not be at her side!
The great wall of vegetation, an exuberant and entangled mass of trunks, branches, leaves, boughs, festoons, motionless in the moonlight, was like a rioting invasion of soundless life, a rolling wave of plants, piled up, crested, ready to topple over the creek, to sweep every little man of us out of his little existence. And it moved not. A deadened burst of mighty splashes and snorts reached us from afar, as though an ichthyosaurus had been taking a bath of glitter in the great river.
A brick could be used to help you to become a karate master, like I am. It’s easy to punch the brick and break it, but can you punch a brick, shatter it, and then using only your mind repiece the brick back together into one cohesive unit—and do it all faster than the shutter of the fastest camera can witness? Well, I can. You’ll have to see it to believe it, but since the human eye can’t actually visually absorb it, you’ll have to just take my word for it.
A brick and a blanket walk into a bar, and the bartender turns and says, “What can I get you started with?” Before they could reply, a Finnish guy said, “I’ll take a brick in a blanket, hold the ice.” What the bartender started, the Finnish guy finished, and the brick and the blanket thought they’d better to drink elsewhere. * A brick in a blanket: very simple—1/6th of a Twizzler dropped in a glass of vodka, with a blanket of Grenadine on top.
I have not yet lost a feeling of wonder, and of delight, that this delicate motion should reside in all the things around us, revealing itself only to him who looks for it. I remember, in the winter of our first experiments, just seven years ago, looking on snow with new eyes. There the snow lay around my doorstep — great heaps of protons quietly precessing in the earth's magnetic field. To see the world for a moment as something rich and strange is the private reward of many a discovery.
Weird how I can feel so frail and tiny sometimes, and other times so brave and bold and reckless and free, and . . . Does everybody feel the same? When people get grown-up, do they always feel grown-up and sensible and sorted out and . . . And do I want to feel grown-up? Do I want to stop feeling . . . paradoxical, nonsensical? Do I want to stop being crackers? Do I want to be destrangified? O yes, sometimes I want nothing more - but it only lasts a moment, then O I want to be the strangest and crakerest of everybody.
A blanket could be used to represent a thing. Now this thing is curious, because it represents an idea. This idea is called sleep, and as far as ideathings go, it’s about as relaxing as it gets. Ideas within sleep are called dreams, and they are like bricks, only not real and considerably lighter and less damaging as they bounce off your skull. So if a dream is an ideaideathing, then a dream about a blanket would be an ideathingideathing, and thinking about that makes me want to crack my brainbone with a brick.
A brick could be used to stop a train. But I’ve got a better way to stop a speeding train. Stand firmly on the tracks, stare down the oncoming train, and boldly whisper, “Stop” as you hold out a stiff arm and just stand there. It might feel like you’re waiting your whole life for that train to stop, and quite possibly you will wait your whole life for that train to stop. But from that point your life expectancy has decreased to just a few seconds, so you won’t be waiting very long at all.
A brick is a duplicate. It is a physical copy of the idea for a brick. And what’s the big idea? A brick represents unity, a notion of hey, let’s build something together. Like a house, for example. And after you help me build my house, I’ll use a leftover brick and smash you over the skull so that not only will I not have to pay you for your labor, but I won’t have to pay the butcher for meat, because with your sturdy body, I’m sure I’ll have enough food to feed my family for a year.
There is an anaesthetic of familiarity, a sedative of ordinariness which dulls the senses and hides the wonder of existence. For those of us not gifted in poetry, it is at least worth while from time to time making an effort to shake off the anaesthetic. What is the best way of countering the sluggish habitutation brought about by our gradual crawl from babyhood? We can't actually fly to another planet. But we can recapture that sense of having just tumbled out to life on a new world by looking at our own world in unfamiliar ways.
