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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #surreal
A blanket could be used like Lenny McDenny says hello. He never says hi, because he only says goodbye. He’s always leaving and never arriving. I’m like that too, except I’m always arriving and never leaving. I also eat all the food in your fridge, and never leave when you ask me to. Why would I leave? Good food, good friends, and good food. ↗
#brick-and-blanket-iq-test #brick-and-blanket-responses #brick-and-blanket-test #brick-and-blanket-uses #funny
I’m reminded of Orville Tethington, inventor of the world’s first steam-powered fog machine. He’s also the guy who, after the Germans invented the flame thrower in WWI, decided to counteract it with his own creation, the candle thrower. The candle thrower was only battle tested once, and after fifteen minutes the war zone was littered with lit candles. Upon returning home after the war, some of the soldiers suffered such extreme and bizarre cases of PTSD that anytime a civilian lit a match or used their lighter, the soldiers would hit the ground and start singing “Happy Birthday. ↗
I could pour my love in a coffee cup and the shivering and skeptical would beg me to drink it on a cold winter morning. And could they drink from my coffee cup? No, because it’s not like there is coffee in there, or even hot chocolate. My love is the only thing filling that cup, and everyone knows (well, everyone but Agatha knows) that you can’t drink my love, you can only eat it. That’s because my love is frozen like 32 degrees spun around 180 degrees, translated to Inuit, shipped to Siberia, tutored in a gulag, and sent back to the US in the form of a Martini on the rocks by a bartender named Martin Rock. ↗
What’s the difference between an omelet and an Omelet? One has cheese and vegetables, while the other just has Vegetables. I’m talking, of course, about my good friend Omelet Vegetables. He got his name because his mother was some sort of vegan hippy. But now that she doesn’t even eat eggs, and she really regrets naming him that. I met him while attending the University of Phoenix--the very same University of Phoenix campus that burned to the ground, and then rose up out of its own ashes. Fortunately, we didn’t have class that night. Omelet hates it when people greet him with, “What’s cooking?” And I completely understand. ↗
What is art? Art is tar, rearranged. Art is tar on canvas or tar on tarp or tar on a naked body. Art is a bird chirping changed into something visual. Art is an image of a thousand beaks breaking into the office of a quack doctor. I know that doctor, and I've personally spoken to ten of those beaks. Art is rhythm, two hands clapping at a urinal while a third shakes off pee to the beat. Good art stays with you your whole life, especially if that good art is a tattoo. Good art is my name, written backwards, inked on your upper lip in a furry font. Art imitates life, just as life imitates Orafoura. Art can be anything from a Manet to a Monet to a painting of money to a missile. Art can save the world, or devastate it. (We could drop another big bomb on Japan, though I'm not advocating dumping Basquiat paintings on Hiroshima). Art rhymes with a bodily function, and everybody should let their creativity rip everywhere from the privacy of their bathrooms to small heated boxes with four of their closest friends. Art is thinking outside that box, and desperately trying to escape. ↗
