A brick could be used as a medallion on the end of a necklace, much like human testicles aren’t used. It’s a shame, really, because when you think of all things dangly, male genitals drop down first in my mind.


A pastor, a politician, and a brick walk into a bar, and the bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve rigid nonthinkers here.” So the brick and the pastor look at the politician, who turns around and leaves.


A blanket can be a statement—a generalization and truism covering a multitude of categories, like corruption, ineptitude, ignorance, arrogance, greed, and sloth—which would all fall under the blanket of “Politics.

Wounded?” was all I could manage. “Yes,” said Pat. “And you’re wounded in the same place. That’s what fathers do if they don’t heal their wounds. They wound their children in the same place.

A brick could be used for good, or for evil. The Brick of Creation, or the Brick of Destruction. While you’re deep in thought, contemplating which one you’d rather use, I’ll be over there looting your house.


Every falling leaf reminds me that I too will soon be separated from these trees. Trying to capture freedom is like trying to catch a falling leaf. Occasionally you may grab one out of the air and hold it in your hands, but now what?

A blanket could be used to say hello to a friend I haven’t spoken to in forever. Forever is a long time, like an eternity, only it feels like just yesterday I started ignoring this friend and acting like he never existed.


A brick could be used as a blanket, and a blanket could be used as a brick, but not very well and not equally as well. Which is whicher depends on whose colder and who’s more in need of constructing a permanent structure.


A blanket could be used to fix your broken marriage. You’ll also need duct tape, an empty car trunk, a getaway driver, and the most opportune moment to snatch your mother-in-law away to never be seen or heard from again. 


A blanket could be used to make people smile. But the blanket won’t make just anyone smile—it will make people with no mouths smile. I plan on showing a live audience how it works at the next Helen Keller Convention. 


A blanket could be split in two—divided in half, like hereditary territory one inherits. And once you’ve got half the blanket, you’d better stay on your side of the bed—or else I’m going to tell dad.


A blanket could be used to separate the winners from the losers. With the exception of me, all men are losers, and only the winners are allowed under the blanket. Sorry, fellas, but there is nothing I can do about the situation. 


Bricks, bricks, and bricks could be used instead of gold, silver, and bronze medals in the Olympics. If all an athlete cares about is winning, then I’ll take the precious metal off the international communities’ hands.


A blanket could be used like a Love Fleece. I imagine you’re shaking your head. Do you disagree? Fine, then when you’re shivering, I won’t ask if it’s because you’re cold—or because you’re lonely.

A brick could be used in speech therapy, to cure a stutter. I mean look at me, I don't have a stutter. But to be fair, I never did have a stutter, so I can't be certain the presence of a brick had any positive effect at all.