A blanket could be used for political transparency. After all, what’s more see-through than a brick wall?


A brick could be used to block out the pain, if you use it to first inflict pain and carry it through to coma. 


With one blanket, you and I could wrap up like a burrito. Yum. And if you want melted cheese, just fart a bit. 


A blanket could represent change, and a brick represents consistency. Do you embrace the blanket, or the brick?


A brick could be used as an AFD, or Atmospheric Floating Device, whose sole function is to make people ask WTF?


A brick could be used instead of a red light. They’re both red, and I’d run both with equal fervor.


A brick could be used as a doorstop. But why bother? To promote an open-door policy, I had all the walls knocked down.

Love doesn’t spend its time watering your plants. But it might bubblegum swank monkey mouth with you—twice.

A blanket might make the ideal politician, because they’re warm, comforting, soft, and easily corruptible.


A blanket could be used to reduce the weight of love, by exactly one person. It’s a cold world out there. 


A blanket could be used to line the walls of the Love Chamber, to soundproof it so that nobody hears you scream.


A brick could be used to back the dollar. Hey, it’s better than the dollar being backed by nothing, right?


A brick could be used as a fashion accessory. Or an accessory to murder. I believe the phrase is, "If looks could kill.

A brick could be used to silence your critics. Think of it like a really thick and unchewy piece of chewing gum. 


A brick could be used to send Satan back from whence he came. But where did he come from? Probably Washington DC.