Today I had my Red Sox Nation official barcode neck-tattoo scanned, and in return was rewarded with FIELD BOX seats for a game at Fenway this summer. Terrible job, Dirt Dog, you too could have had this opportunity. But hey, your dignity is intact. Oy.

Only if the guy sitting next to me at that game turns to me and says, "I'd never heard of these so-called Red Sox until they won the World Series. Now, I'm an official member of Red Sox Nation, see my card? Now who's this long-haired fellow..." will I admit that DD was right. But that's not going to happen. The people who got the card were already "real" Red Sox fans, and got it for the benefits, not because they'd never really felt a part of Red Sox Nation (a term that didn't exist for the first 90 years of the franchise's existence, anyway) until they got a special card.

Of course, we all know that Dirt Dog got an ID card right away, and told everyone not to get one so that he'd have a better chance at winning these ticket lotteries. You know this is the first time I ever got selected in one of these? I went on there at the "pre-designated time," and within five minutes had sweet seats.

I really hope BS Memorial tells of his meeting with Krist Novoselic at his book signing tonight in NYC. I wanted to go to it, but the logistics of it all were a little too -gistic and not enough logi-. i.e. I just couldn't possibly make iT. Well I could have, but it would've involved me wearing the same clothes like three days in a row, since I'd have gone straight from work, and I'm going to the city tomorrow as well and...don't worry about it.

The other day I promised a Zimmer-related post. It's late. Sorry.