A blanket could be used like the Romans used Greek gods. Still, if you want my honest opinion, I’d rather pray to cheddar cheese than to Zeus.

A brick could be used to knock out the tooth of a giant, and then used as a replacement for that very tooth it knocked out. I’ll tell you what, you knock it out, and...

I have to put up a wall to put up with him. Not an invisible, metaphoric emotional wall, but a wall made of bricks. Those bricks could be used to keep out his bullshit. Bricks...

Blankets could be used to keep politicians warm, when we kick them all to the street. They’ll be warm, but they’ll be bruised, because we’ll continue kicking them after they’re in the street.

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 blanket could be folded up and kept in the trunk of my car, in much the same way that I do with the Chinese gymnastics team before I chauffer them around town.

A brick could be fired out of a cannon, in an attempt to bring down a brick wall, just as index fingers could be severed and flicked at politicians, to try to correctly redirect blame.

A brick, in the hands of a Mason, could be used to cover up and hide a secret handshake.

A brick would make a great stocking stuffer at Christmas—especially if you chisel it out of the fireplace the stocking is hanging from. Let the homeowner know how much you care.

The man you’re going to marry should be like a brick: strong, sturdy, supportive and almost always hard in your presence.