I seem to remember one of Garrison Keillor's tales about how everybody's tomatoes would come in at the same time, and people would sneak onto each other's porch at night and leave bags of 'em and run. Maybe Twinks tickets are the new, ripe tomatoes. Neighbor, going out to work in the sunny AM: "Dammit! They stuck me with the Diamond-levels again! I'll get 'em back with the Sky-Decks tonight..."