A Brick And A Blanket Walk Into A Bar

A brick and a blanket walk into a bar
By Jarod Kintz

A brick makes an excellent window cleaner, if you throw it hard enough. Before you know it, your window will look so clean you’d think it had been replaced with a new one.

A brick could be used to represent a waste of time. Just stare at it for a while and you’ll see what I mean. 

A blanket could be used to cover up my shame. And if it’s a big enough blanket, it could also be used to cover up the naked and sweaty body of my clone. 

A blanket can be wrapped around one’s head and used as a helmet. It’s particularly appropriate if you wear your blanket helmet during a pillow fight with me, because unbeknownst to you, I’ll have a brick stuffed at the bottom of my pillowcase.

A brick could be used to perpetually feed the hungry, stop all wars, educate the masses, and ensure everlasting peace for all populations throughout time. Wait, I’m sorry, that’s not right. I was confusing a brick with a blanket. It’s a blanket that could be used for all those things. 

I’m surprised there isn’t a jet airplane designed in the shape of a brick. Some people (aeronautical engineers) might say that’s because bricks aren’t aerodynamic. Yeah, right. I’d like to see someone make that claim as they watch a brick flying towards their face at a high velocity. 

A blanket could be used to divide people. All men who oppose me should get on top of the blanket, and all women who support me would be well advised get naked and get under the blanket. One at a time, please. 

A brick could make everything better for me. Now, if I could only find a way to get my hands on one. But it’s a silly dream, because I don’t have the ambition to get out from under my blanket and go out and grab the very thing I most desire. 

A brick could be used as crib K, if you simply rearrange the letters. And what’s in cribs A-J? Well, with the exception of one sleeping midget, the cribs contain babies, of course. 

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 would make an excellent unit of currency. Pros: It’s cheaper than a bar of gold; you don’t have to break into anybody’s house to get at all their money; and I’ve already got fourteen of them buried in my backyard. Cons: It doesn’t easily fit into one’s wallet; it is easily counterfeited; and houses would literally be made of money—which presents a problem of how to set their value and what form of payment would be accepted in the purchase of a new all-brick home. Similarity with the dollar: Masons would still control the money supply and the Federal Reserve.

A pair of bricks, when affixed to the bottom of a lady’s shoes, makes an affordable and utilitarian set of platform shoes. That’s the sort of platform that I’d like to run for political office on.

A brick could be utilized to teach the danger of procrastination. Ignoring the brick and pretending everything will work itself out is not going to transform it into a wall. 

A brick could be used as a puzzle. See if you can correctly add up the number of sides. If you keep getting the number seven, try consulting a psychologist—or a numerologist. Incidentally, I just so happen to be the latter, so feel free to give me a call. But don’t feel too free, because my services are most certainly not free.

A blanket, coupled with an impressive erection, could serve as a suitable replacement for a lost tent at next year’s “Bring your son to work night” at NAMBLA’s manufacturing plant. What does NAMBLA make? NAMBLA makes me sick.

A brick could be your new best friend. If this appeals to you, it’s probably because people tend to seek the company of others who posses similar intellects and interests. And as I have just begun demonstrating, a brick can be very interesting indeed. Now, where did I put my mortar? I must go grab some, because I think my new friend is getting cold. 

A brick could be used as a measurement of time. Yes, just think how stylish you’ll look with a brick duct taped to your wrist!

A blanket could be drenched in water, frozen, and then enjoyed like a giant cotton popsicle by prisoners of a gulag, who might consider this a tasty treat compared to what they normally eat. 

A blanket could be used as a trap to ensnare two entangled lovers. Using this method is how I found my current girlfriend and my new best guy friend.

A blanket can be rolled up, much like I roll up my emotions when I listen to political rhetoric.

A blanket, no matter how thin, could be sliced thinner, and in this way one blanket could be used to keep a multitude of people warm. But not that warm.

A blanket could be used as a sail for my self-esteem when I’m floating upstream on the turbulent river of my subconscious. Some of my thoughts can be quite windy, gusts with gusto, like a hurricane sneeze in your face. You could also use that blanket as a giant handkerchief. Gesundheit.

A blanket could be used as a cape. But why would I do that? I’m trying to keep my super powers secret, and a cape’s like a cloth billboard advertising to all the people that need help that I’m the man to assist them—and even worse is that fact that a cape confirms—conforms, really—to the notion that I’m willing to perform miracles for free. And that’s simply not the case. 

A blanket could be used as a dialogue filter, a speaking partition, with the blanket hanging on a clothes line and two people engaged in conversation—one on each side of the blanket. The blanket will serve as a method of purification and a way to make the words more fluid. When you’re trying to talk through a blanket, you’re going to choose words that are precise, piercing, and clearly enunciated. Also, having a blanket block the view of the person you’re conversing with will eliminate body language, forcing you to crystallize your sentences into strings of diamonds. 

A blanket could be made of tuna fish skin, which would go well with my cottage cheese thighs.

A blanket, when taken to the top of a mountain and laid flat, could be painted orange and used as a landing pad for when the aliens come to earth to save humanity. The only problem is, with it being painted orange, what if the construction workers arrive before the extraterrestrials?

A blanket can be a meditation device. If the blanket is white, and you stare at it, you can blank out your mind and find peace within yourself.

A blanket is a sanctuary, a place where a man can enjoy his banana in peace. I laid a few grapes on grandma’s headstone, and I remembered her as she was, when she first died. 

A blanket would be a great surface to print my new book on, so you could read it in bed while you’re having boring, obligatory sex with your spouse, who’s as dry and exciting as a sack of flour. 

Bricks could be used to make shoes out of. Just as brick houses are better than wooden houses, so too would brick shoes be better than wooden shoes. Just ask the Dutch. I’m sure they’d be lining up to buy my new line of brick running shoes. 

A brick and a blanket aptly describe my former roommate. He was as dumb as a brick, and only highly functional on a bed. Or so I heard—not that I’d know from personal experience.

A brick can be used as a counting device, particularly if you only need to count up to one.

A blanket could be used as a screen to project animated bedtime stories onto, and also a place to project your fears about society not being accepting of adults who watch movies directed at an audience of four-year-olds. Trust me, I’ve been there—26 years ago. 

A brick could be used to stop a bleeding wound. Though just between you and me, I’d prefer to be bandaged by a Band-Aid, a blanket, or a pair of lace panties (preferably red).

A brick could be used to teach students Karate. I don’t mean focusing one’s energy to be able to break a brick with one’s fist, because when I say a brick could teach students karate, I mean the brick could literally be your sensei. I don’t fight, but if I did, I’d want to spar with a guy who trained under a brick. 

A brick and a blanket can be used as reasons to go on searching, when you’ve found all the obvious applications for the brick and the blanket—and immediately discarded them—but you lost the motivation to keep thinking, and you’ve lost hope that you will discover any new uses for them. Thus the brick and the blanket become symbols for creativity and perseverance. 

A brick could be used to test my new levitation machine. Still, I’d rather test the machine out by seeing if it can lift my heavy, elephantine penis off the floor. But before I turn the machine on, I’m going to ask you to stand at least ten feet back, because I wouldn’t want to accidentally impregnate you. 

A door is too rigid to be draped over a body and made into a good blanket, but a blanket could be hung up in an empty doorframe and transformed into a door. But don’t knock, because I’m trying to sleep.

A brick could be used to direct traffic. Use a brick from the scene of the accident, where some driver ran into a brick wall. 

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.”

A brick could be placed in the center of a silver platter, surrounded by leafy green garnishes to compliment the red of the brick, and frozen for the next time you have the in-laws over for dinner. I’d recommend eating before they arrive, because I’m not sure you’ll want to have any of the “meatloaf” you’ll be serving them. 

A brick could replace the eagle as the symbol for the United States of America. And why not? A brick just sort of sits there, expecting everything to be built around it; a brick crumbles, much like an empire; and a brick is nonthinking, just like America’s “leadership” in Washington DC—on both sides of the political spectrum.

A blanket could be used to make love. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer making love on a conveyer belt with cheap labor and high mark ups.

A brown blanket could be used in place of chocolate frosting on a cake, and since nobody will want to eat it, you’ll be left with more cake for yourself. 

A blanket and a brick could be put in a ring and paid to fight. Compared to MMA, it would be boring. But compared to boxing, it would be downright thrilling. 

A brick could be affixed to each end of an axle, for an example of transportation in a pre-wheel society. 

A brick has no legs, so it probably slithers like a snake. Therefore, a brick might make a good pet. And at least you wouldn’t have to walk it.

A brick could be used to block a mouse hole. But something better that would not only block the hole physically, but also psychologically, would be to stuff a dead rat in the hole.

A brick is to a blanket, as the moon is to Sun Tzu. Fear my fearlessness!

A blanket could be used as a brick, but not as successfully as a brick could be used as a blanket. But neither can be used in the manner of Johnny Lemon, who has been the National Used Car Salesman for the past 22 years. Way to go, Johnny.

A brick can become a trip to Breckenridge, if you get hit on the head with one and get knocked unconscious.

A brick could be used to commit genocide on a small patch of grass, if you lay the brick down on the lawn and leave it there long enough. But I do not condone this monstrosity of lawntrocity. (Lawn + atrocity—clever, no? OK, no, it’s not so clever. To have any lawngevity as a writer, I’ve got to avoid making clunky, brick-like puns.)

A brick could used as a dagger, much like a blanket could be used to cool off after a heated argument. 

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 can’t cure cancer. But who knows, maybe a brick combined with a blanket could. I’ll have to ask Dr. Burzynski about it.

A blanket could be used as a duvet, in the fight against elitism.

A brick has ten holes in two rows lining the center—perfect so that you and nine of your friends can each stick your little dicks in the brick after a few beers.

A brick could be used to measure the speed of gravity, but an apple offers a tastier option. 

A brick represents all the evil in the world. We should start a War on Bricks. And why not? It’s more tangible, yet just as nonsensical, as the War on Terror.

“Brick” could be the name of a restaurant. But so could “Blah,” “Gruel,” and “A Taste of the Gulag.”

A blanket could make a good hood on a car, because it’s flat and warm and I don’t currently have a hood. Or a car.

A brick could be used to monitor earthquakes. If the brick crumbles apart, you can bet an earthquake occurred.

A blanket could be used to hide my shame and cover my insecurities. But so could a camouflaged condom.

On is to no, as Dora J. Arod is to Dora J. Arod. And brick is to blanket, as Dora J. Arod is to Jarod Ora.

A brick is a lot like love. I mean, I’m sure it is. It simply must be. However, I can’t think of how at the moment, but that’s natural, because I’m not Cupid. OK, here’s something: A brick has six sides, and love—wait, no, love only has five sides. Damn! A brick is red, and love—is transparent (visually it’s invisible, and truthfully it’s transparent). So color is out, shape is out—which leaves sound. A brick is silent, while love sounds like the hum of an electric generator. After a while, you may not hear it and you think it’s silent, but that’s only because you’re acclimated to it and have tuned it out.

I have a fist like a brick, but I don’t punch through walls—I build them and become them. 

A brick can be seen from space, if cloned, brought together for a Wall family reunion, and taught Chinese.

A brick could be put on the end of a scale, to determine if the other end of the scale holds a lie or the truth. (Hint: The truth is much heavier than a brick.)

The word “Building” makes a completed structure seem under construction. Once a building is finished, it should be called a “Built.” Similarly, a brick is complete in and of itself, but it is also a part of the process of building, and a part of the end result, a newly constructed built. 

A brick could be mailed, but only if it’s not your money you use to mail it, it’s not your brick, and you don’t know the person whose address you’re sending it to. This is a good example of the level of government efficiency, ingenuity, and intuition we’ve all come to expect from our public servants. 

A brick could replace the cardboard bill on a baseball cap. On a windy day, no gust will knock your hat off.

A brick is used to label a missed shot in basketball. However, a better term to call a missed shot, or any shot in basketball, would be a “Movado,” because it’s a waste of time. Instead of spending your free time trying to put a ball in a net, how about reading a few books.

I could inject a brick in each of my butt cheeks and then be like ancient Greece: a ruin. Only, I’d ask my gay dance partner, “R u in?”

You could sit on a brick right now, or you could use that brick to start building your future. Here, let me get you a cushion so you’ll be more comfortable. 

A blanket represents softness, a brick represents hardness, and a penis represents both—depending on how aroused it is. I seek out women who bring out the brick in me.

A gray, wrinkled blanket represents the cloudy weather forecast for tomorrow. I’d recommend carrying an umbrella with you the whole day—starting with your morning shower (or bath).

A blanket could be used to find the Brick of Truth. Many lies will be layered on the Brick of Truth to try to cover it up, but the blanket will cover up all the lies, thus covering up the cover up and thereby revealing the Brick of Truth. And don’t try to steal the covers, because the blanket will only provide warmth to the Brick of Truth. 

A brick pressed over each ear may protect from loud noises like a jackhammer. For softer noises that are annoying, like snoring, I’d recommend covering your ears with a blanket. 

A blanket is a coffin, if the cops are after you and you have to dump a body quick.

A brick could be dropped on your mother-in-law’s head from the height of 66.6 feet. You know, as a going away present. 

A brick could be surgically inserted in the chest of a man who needs a heart transplant. And for just $20,000 more dollars, that brick could be replaced with a new heart.

A blanket could be hung on your living room wall, and watched instead of nightly news. Not only would it be more honest, but it also would be more entertaining and thought provoking.

A brick is what the aliens gave me to communicate with them. It’s easy to operate. Just go to a party, or any crowded location, place the brick on your head, and stand perfectly still until they open up lines of communication. If you talk to Egbok Wangor, tell him I want the twenty bucks he owes me—and I’ll even give you a twenty percent collector’s fee.

A blanket could be used as a water purification device. Place it between a flowing water source and your storage barrel and let the blanket filter out impurities. Then after your water is pure, drop a brick in the barrel, and let the water molecules take on a brick-like structure. Drinking this water is a great way to build up your body’s defenses—especially from invading Mongol hordes from the north. 

Through the miracle of science, or divine intervention, a brick could be made soft, like Jell-O, and a blanket could be made rigid, like the laws regarding the speed limit, as interpreted by the cop who pulled me over last night. Come on, Officer Dogood—97 in a 30 mile an hour zone is not egregious. It’s not like I was speeding with no lights on while wearing a blindfold and blasting Lady Gaga from my radio to mask the sound of pounding fists from a kidnapping victim I had tied up in my trunk. Now that is something that would merit a stiff penalty, like a parking ticket, or maybe a stern warning. 

A football could be swapped out for a brick, to make family reunion football games more fun. But I’m calling it right now: I get to be quarterback.

A blanket could be used to keep people warm. But take it from me: you want to freeze those dead bodies as soon as they’re cold and lifeless, because you don’t want the bodies staying warm and decomposing while you’re looking for a place to dispose of them. 

A brick could be a breath freshener for a dragon. But so could a mint-flavored baby. 

A brick is a duplicate. It is a physical copy of the idea for a brick. And what’s the big idea? A brick represents unity, a notion of hey, let’s build something together. Like a house, for example. And after you help me build my house, I’ll use a leftover brick and smash you over the skull so that not only will I not have to pay you for your labor, but I won’t have to pay the butcher for meat, because with your sturdy body, I’m sure I’ll have enough food to feed my family for a year. 

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.

A blanket could be used to show love, by providing warmth, comfort, and an itchiness of desire that cannot be satisfied by a single scratch. 

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 brick could be a politician, if you attached strings, taught it to dance, and allowed it to read a teleprompter. Remember: whether it’s Republican or Democrat, it’s still a brick, and it will do whatever the Mason’s want it to. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work. Now, where did I leave my secret handshake?

A brick is blocking my urethra. But it’s not painful, because my penis is just that big. 
Oh yes, it’s as big as this lie is.

A brick and a blanket walk into a bar, and the bartender turns and says, “What can I get you started with?” Before they could reply, a Finnish guy said, “I’ll take a brick in a blanket, hold the ice.” What the bartender started, the Finnish guy finished, and the brick and the blanket thought they’d better to drink elsewhere.

* A brick in a blanket: very simple—1/6th of a Twizzler dropped in a glass of vodka, with a blanket of Grenadine on top.

jarodkintz jarodkintz
31-35, M
May 6, 2012