A brick could be used to practice your telepathic levitation. If you can lift the brick, you’ll lift your spirits.
A brick could be used in a levitation demonstration. The best way to keep it afloat, along with the American Dream, is with debt and denial.
A brick could be used to float a good idea at work—especially if it’s a good idea that would be bad for you personally.
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.
A blanket could be used to trick a bull into charging at you. After you trick the bull, trick a bear next, and then by that time all the investors will be playing your game, not even knowing that you are the Blanket Master that controls the world.
A brick could be used to represent no, and a blanket could be used to represent yes. If I ask you, “Will you sleep with me?” I expect you to run to the bedroom, get naked, and get under the blanket. Whatever you do, do not reach for the brick.
A brick could be used in a knee replacement surgery, to build back the wall separating man from a sub four-minute mile. Damn you, Roger Bannister!
A brick could be God’s gift to man (and woman), and we wouldn’t even know it because we’re all obsessed with iPads, luxury cars, and of course, my body.
A brick is a barometer of love. Give it to the girl of your dreams, and see if she uses it to build a life with you, or as a high velocity projectile.
A brick and a blanket could be combined to create a blink. And a half a blink, as we all know, is a wink. A wink and a smile might be enough to get you back to my blanket.
A brick is a rust-colored blur of movement, caught in a moment, and transformed from motion into a physical object. Studying this brick would give scientists an insight into how fast I run.
One brick is not a wall. Unless you’re an ant, and then it’s not only a wall, it’s a building—a building that has no doors, windows, or people in the form of managers that I’d like to smash in the face with a building (or a brick).
A brick could be placed in an empty circular room, so that when you tell a dunce to go stand in the corner, he won’t feel so stupid and will know where to go.
A blanket could be used to represent the Rectangle of Desire. In nine out of ten cases, it was more effective than Viagra. The tenth case was found to contain a lot of cash, and the participant made off with the money without completing the study.
A blanket could be hooked to ropes and attached to the body of a swimmer in training, to provide resistance and increase strength and endurance. Those very same ropes could be used to tie me to my bed, to keep me from falling asleep.
Instead of stocks investors should invest in blankets, that way they’ll at least have something to keep them warm after they’ve lost all their money when the company goes under.
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 brick could be used as a trophy at your company’s annual award ceremony. It’s a way to save money while making pride and applause at the same time.
A brick could be used to better improve relations with your relatives. But if you’re going to play quarterback, you’d better be ready to play receiver.
A brick could be used to remind you. I would remind you of what you need to be reminded about, but that’s not my role—that’s the brick’s place.
A brick could help get your unruly hair under control, by getting at the root of the problem—your skull. Increase force as necessary.
