The Audacity of Dipshits

Humor me...

So, like any other wide-eyed baseball-loving optimist, I entered the Cincinnati Reds post-season ticket-buying opportunity raffle lottery with the highest of hopes. Whatever it was, it was a chance at buying seats to watch my beloved Reds in the playoffs, I was feeling lucky, I've attended enough regular season games to feel as though I earned just a few post-season ticket-scoring karma points, and so I was all over it. It only required an email address, and a quick login process, after all. (And yes, of course I used two email addresses.) In love, anything is possible, right? And I am just head-over-heels with these Reds. Yes, it's completely irrational, but I was just sure I'd score tickets to at least one post-season appearance.

This afternoon came the sad news that I had not been selected, and I can live with that, but of course curiosity got the best of me and I scouted around eBay to see if anyone was doing the unthinkable, and sure enough, just under ten entries were returned, asking anywhere from $95 to $200 for the Reds post-season ticket code that allows you to compete for tickets at 9:00 am Wednesday morning. To reiterate: they're just selling access to the sale; there's no guarantee whatsoever you'll get tickets, or that you'll be happy with the ones you score if you're so lucky.

Look, I know nobody cares and "fuck the right thing, go for the money" has become the American Way and all, but I'm still incredibly irritated that someone, anyone who invested absolutely nothing has the audacity to charge a perfect stranger for the privilege of attempting to secure tickets to a home town game in their own damned city. Yes, I'm talking to you, Mr. NYC eBay Seller, and also you, Mr. Somewhere in Texas eBay Seller. You officially suck.

That's all, really. I won't take it so far as to wish, if by some strange happenstance said interlopers ended up attending a post-season game, that they'd get hit by a broken bat, or anything.

Look out kid
You’re gonna get hit
But users, cheaters, six-time losers
Hang around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin’ for a new fool
Don’t follow leaders
Watch the parkin’ meters

- Bob Dylan, "Subterranean Homesick Blues"

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