A blanket could be used to keep me single. Not that I need any help from anybody or anything to stay single. Actually, to stay single, I need the full cooperation of the entire female population, which is kind of impressive, because in conclusively and inclusively agreeing not to date me, it's like the first time in human history a collective has ever fully agreed on something.
A brick and a blanket can be used as reasons to go on searching, when you’ve found all the obvious applications for the brick and the blanket—and immediately discarded them—but you lost the motivation to keep thinking, and you’ve lost hope that you will discover any new uses for them. Thus the brick and the blanket become symbols for creativity and perseverance.
Bricks could be used to make a billion dollars. It’s easy! All you need to do is fill up a shopping cart full of bricks, park it outside of a grocery store, and wait for the coming hyperinflation. Then, when some soccer mom walks by with a shopping cart full of cash, to purchase a loaf of bread, you trade your tangible assets for her imaginary money and boom! you are now a billionaire.
A brick could be used as a hammer. A brick could be both a tool and a building material in the construction of a mansion. That’s like having an engineer design secret tunnels in your palace, and then burying him in the foundation’s cement, to strengthen the integrity of the structure, and also ensure his integrity on the matter of secrecy by burying the secrets to the fortress along with his corpse.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
A brick and a blanket could be used as characters in a story full of clever dialogue, such as: Brick: I checked everywhere, and it’s not where I last left it. Did you touch my penis sandwich? Blanket: What? Eww no, why would I touch your penis sandwich? Brick: Well, would it make you more comfortable if I put on some condiments and rolled on a condom? Blanket: Dude, or lady, whatever you are. I’m not gay—or straight. I’m not even bisexual. I’m a blanket, and I’m asexual. I’m also not hungry now.
A brick could have been used as a father figure in place of my dad when I was growing up, because a brick may be dumb, but at least it isn’t dumb and interfering in its absence. By not being a part of my life, my dad became a big part of my life, because my thoughts were influenced by his image and infused with fantasy as I attempted to alter the reality that he wanted little to do with me. And what else would you call not wanting to be a part of your son’s life but dumb? So this Father’s Day, I’m drinking to the dad I never had—a brick.
A brick could be used as gift for the man who has everything. Here’s a tip: that man doesn’t have everything, because I just stole his wallet. But I can’t very well give him a gift of something I’ve just grifted. So while he’s pondering the meaning of the brick as a present, I’m off spending his money. It’s win-win for both of us. And by both of us I mean me and you, not me and him, because naturally you’ll be my accomplice, my partner, and as such you’re entitled to half. Of half. But since I’m paying you 25%, you’re paying for dinner.
