A brick could be used to replace a flat tire. After all, you want to replace like with like, and what’s more flat than a brick?


A brick could be used to stop a tornado, unlike a mobile home, which only acts like a tornado magnet and seems to increase its power.


A blanket could be used to understand Understanding. At least I think so. The process is complicated, and really hard to understand. 


If you come by my place, you might see a wheelbarrow full of broken bricks. I broke them with my fist. I was practicing for your face.


People love to love, but I love to sleep, and that is why cats are closer to God than bricks are to blankets. –Cap’n Kintz


A brick could be used to slow down time. Sort of like a camel in a wheelchair pushed by a thirsty Arab. Hey, Khalid, wait up a second!


A blanket could be used to stop the bleeding. But dammit you’re going to have to hurry, before I bleed out all over the carpet. 


A brick could be used as toilet paper—especially if you just shit a brick. You could shit and wipe your way to a wall of privacy.


I want you to be with someone who really, really loves you. A wild love! A crazy love! I want yours to be the greatest love story of all time!

A blanket could be used for anti-population-control purposes. Get naked and get under the blanket and I’ll show you how it works.


Love is like a forest, I think as I kill trees by squandering toilet paper while “decorating” my ex girlfriend’s front yard.

A blanket isn’t the solution, a blanket is the problem. I say we burn all the blankets, along with the bodies of the unbelievers.


A brick could be hidden in the dirt, for future archaeologists to dig up and declare, “Wow! This was one advanced society.”


A blanket could be used to help acclimate your body for your after death experience. Hell is hot, so you’d better warm up first. 


My routine is comforting, like a comforter. But a blanket could easily be used to replace my routine, because a comforter is a blanket.