Game Day: Tickets! Tickets! Who Needs Tickets!?

Like Bryan Murray or your average bankster, in a downturn it's time for to take stock at year's end and unload any toxic assets onto the most proximate sucker. I've already uploaded the most troubled sector of the portfolio onto BuyMyShitPile.com in the hopes that they will catch the eye of a benevolent economic dictator. To shore up my own personal balance sheet, I'll be on the corner of Beatty and Georgia offering up two 300 level tickets to what will surely be an unwatchable and generally humiliating hockey experience. While a shovel would be acceptable barter, after last night's wrist-slitter, I will also consider cheap domestic whiskey, a shopping cart full of pop bottles and/or a moderately comfortable alley to pass out in.

If I can't make a deal, I'll be sporting my own contribution to A Farce United, enduring the stinging taunts of hundreds of Golden V-clad greaseballs from Surrey: