A blanket might make the ideal politician, because they’re warm, comforting, soft, and easily corruptible.


A blanket could be used to reduce the weight of love, by exactly one person. It’s a cold world out there. 


A blanket could be used to line the walls of the Love Chamber, to soundproof it so that nobody hears you scream.


A brick could be used to back the dollar. Hey, it’s better than the dollar being backed by nothing, right?


A brick is something solid, stable, and yet edgy. In other words, it’s everything a politician isn’t.


A brick could be used to send Satan back from whence he came. But where did he come from? Probably Washington DC.


A brick could be used to silence your critics. Think of it like a really thick and unchewy piece of chewing gum. 


Brick could be the codename for Rick B. But why the need for secrecy? If I told you I’d have to blanket you.


I make love like a brick could be used as toilet paper. Sure, it’s rough, but I thought you liked that shit.


A blanket could be used to communicate with dolphins. Be quiet! I’m trying to talk to the swimming mammals. 


A brick could be used as a bottle opener. Just don’t smash down too hard, or you’ll shatter the bottle.


A brick could be used to smash my bottled up rage, and a blanket could be laid down beforehand to catch the shards. 


A brick could be used as a color in a new line of lipstick, designed to woo the mason of every woman’s dreams.


A brick could be used as a period on a really large sentence. A blanket could be used as a really large tilde sign. 


A brick could be used to foretell the future. And from all indicators, 2013’s going to be a blanket of a year.