A brick could be used as a way to motivate yourself to succeed. I’m proof that it works. It’s how I managed to get second to last in my last race. 


A brick could be used as a logo for a company called Blanket. A right turn signal in the left turn only lane could be used to represent a company called Brick.


Bricks could have been used to stop Napoleon’s army from advancing into Russia. And blankets could have been used to keep Napoleon rolling in victories. 


A brick and a blanket could be used to replace the words yes and no. But which is witch? You’ll have to burn me at the stake before I tell you anything. 


A brick could be used to win the love of a beautiful girl. The trick to getting it to work is just trying it again and again until you get the desired results.


A brown blanket could be used in place of chocolate frosting on a cake, and since nobody will want to eat it, you’ll be left with more cake for yourself. 


A brick could be put on the end of a scale, to determine if the other end of the scale holds a lie or the truth. (Hint: The truth is much heavier than a brick.)


A brick could be used to crush the dreams of the little guy. Especially if that little guy’s dreams are roach like and scurrying across the kitchen floor.


A blanket could be used to cover up your infidelity. Either use the blanket to hide your cheating ways, or figure out how to fornicate with all your clothes on.


A blanket could be used to fill the night sky with smoke, if you use it to suffocate the fire. And if you mess it up, I’ll use my hands to suffocate you. 


Do either a brick or a blanket have Buddha nature? The answer is yes and no and maybe, in a Triangle of Truth where there is no is, and there is no isn’t.


A brick could be used to destroy your mannequin lover. It’s the only proper thing to do. Remember, I was the one who warned you about dating a politician.


A blanket could be used to wipe away my tears. But it’d better be a blanket the size of America, because I’ve been crying since Andrew Jackson died.


A blanket could be used to study the stars more thoroughly. I don’t know how exactly, because I’m not Stephen Hawking. Somebody get me a wheelchair.


A brick could be analyzed in the lab, broken down into olfactory components, and repackaged as an air freshener that promises that “new home” smell.