I put out the Greg Call, which sounds like a whistle-quack, and a few dozen Toms responded. The only time I need a Tom is tomorrow.

All forms of madness, bizarre habits, awkwardness in society, general clumsiness, are justified in the person who creates good art.

Bricks could be used to stock vending machines. You may be out of a home, but I’ll never be out of bricks to sell you.


I lay warm in bed like a melted marshmallow in a graham cracker. I really wish my blanket wasn’t so rigid and crumbly.


A brick could be used like a Viking skull holds soup. If you bring a spoon, I can quench your thirst—and your hunger. 


Of all the things I own, I’m most sentimental about my shoes, because they’ve traveled with me every step of my journey.

A brick could be dropped on your mother-in-law’s head from the height of 66.6 feet. You know, as a going away present. 


A brick has eight edges and six sides. That’s nearly as many sides as a politician takes when discussing a binary issue.


A blanket could be used to reaffirm your faith in God, though I’d suggest using something a little firmer, like a brick.


A brick could be used to direct traffic. Use a brick from the scene of the accident, where some driver ran into a brick wall. 


A brick could be used like a duck could be used like a cat. My duck soup is meowing to be manhandled by a construction worker.


A brick could be used to make yourself taller. It’s like self-esteem, only easier to use in the construction of a house.


A brick could be used in a manner most secret. But Shh! I can't tell you. What part about secret don't you understand?


A blanket could be used to tell you I love you. You know I do. And I’m not just saying that because I’m shivering.


A blanket, as the epitome of warmth, could be used to stop colds. Also, sex with me might be the surest way to prevent a cold.