If I were buying crack from you I would have gotten better customer service! You had no intention of selling me your imaginary scalped tickets, did you? All the signs were there. I was just too stoked on the possibility of getting tickets to a sold-out show that I ignored the obvious warning flags. I should have been suspicious that something was amiss when you demanded money up front, asked me a dozen times if I was a cop, and told me to wait on a deserted downtown street corner for your friend wearing "gold corduroy pants and a bourbon jacket." I wish you would have just stuck a gun in my face and robbed me the old-fashioned way, instead of fooling me into giving you all my money and leaving me ticket-less and feeling like a gullible pussy. If I ever see you again... well, I probably won't do anything. I am a pussy, and it took me until tonight to realize it. And you most likely have a weapon. You betrayed me! I trusted you. What is the world coming to when you can't trust a ticket scalper/possible drug dealer? Oh well, enjoy my money. I did the math. I will make up my losses by lunchtime tomorrow, whereas your clearly homeless ass will be able to afford roughly two weeks in a vagrant hotel. I hope you read this when you use this newsweekly as a blanket.—Anonymous