50 Questions About The Creepy Talking Tree In StubHub’s ‘Ticket Oak’ Commercials

Here is the premise of StubHub’s Ticket Oak commercials: there is a giant talking oak tree with a human-like face in some dude’s suburban backyard that sprouts tickets to popular events instead of leaves. It is named Ticket Oak. The whole thing is kind of creepy and terrifying if you put more than 30 seconds of thought into it.

I have put more than 30 seconds of thought into it. Way more. So, so much more.

Here is the first commercial in the series, followed by 50 questions I have.

How did the Ticket Oak acquire the ability to talk?

Is a Ticket Oak what happens when you plant a ticket in the ground?

Or was it just a regular old oak tree that a wizard did a spell on?

If it was the result of a wizard’s spell, why didn’t the wizard make the tickets he wanted magically appear without bringing a tree into the equation?

And even then, why did he decide to give the tree the ability to speak when he could have just made a silent, ticket-sprouting tree?

Do you think wizards are lonely?

Does the Ticket Oak lose its tickets every autumn the way regular oak trees lose their leaves?

If so, does this mean the Ticket Oak can’t get you seats to anything that takes place from November-March?

Not even football games?

Or do you have to go up to him in, like, August and try to stock up for the winter?

Do you think it gets super awkward when you do that, like you’re all “Heeeeeeey Ticket Oak,” and he’s like “Hi, Randy. How’s it going? Been too long since we caught up” and you’re all “Oh, you know. Just working. And Sarah’s about to start kindergarten,” and then he’s like “Wow, they really grow up fast, huh? I remember when she was still crawling around out here in her diapers” and you’re all “Yup, sure is crazy. … So aaaaaaaaaanyway, looks like I’m gonna be free for that December 29 Eagles-Cowboys game, and I was just wondering if you could…” and then he gets bummed out and is like “Oh, I see” because he thought you were just coming out to catch up, not extract all the use you could from him before he spends another cold winter alone in the yard?

Shouldn’t that dumb lonely wizard have thought things through a little more and made a Ticket Pine or some other Ticket Evergreen instead of a Ticket Oak?

Can the tree cry?

When it gets a little breezy, do tickets from the Ticket Oak ever blow over into the neighbor’s yard?

What if tickets to a Rihanna concert flew over there and your neighbor Sharon’s 13-year-old daughter found them and tried to sneak out the night of the concert?

And what if Sharon caught her and stormed over and rang your doorbell at midnight and started screaming at you about how YOU need to control YOUR Ticket Oak because SHE doesn’t know how YOU raise YOUR kids, but SHE works TOO damn hard to keep that sort of DEVIL MUSIC away from HER daughter, and it is UNACCEPTABLE that YOUR NEGLIGENCE is interfering with that?

Ugh, Sharon, right?

Did the Ticket Oak only start talking when it was an adult, or could it talk when it was a little baby tree?

Do you think it went through a phase when it was a teenager when it thought it was hilarious to give people the wrong tickets all the time, or hold them just barely out of people’s reach so they had to jump and look stupid if they wanted to go see Journey or whoever?

How do you punish a talking tree?

Do you threaten to chop it down, or is that going too far?

Even if you try to play it off later like you were joking?

Should it be against the law to kill trees that can talk and show emotion?

Can the Ticket Oak feel pain?

If so, if there was a big storm one night and it knocked off one of the Ticket Oak’s branches, would it scream?

What if you woke up one night to the sound of a giant maimed tree screaming in your backyard?

Scariest sh*t ever, right?

If everyone knows you have a tree that gives out free tickets, wouldn’t they bug you for freebies all the time?

Like, what if you had a long morning at work and were finally getting a break to grab lunch at 2:30, and one of your co-workers interrupted you to ask for tickets to a Jeff Dunham concert?

And what if it wasn’t even a co-worker you talked to all that often?

And what if it wasn’t the first time he asked you for free tickets?

And what if the last time he asked you for them he didn’t even end up going to whatever stupid thing it was because neither of you spent any money on them and he didn’t feel “required” to go?

And what if he didn’t even say thank you?

Would you just flip out?

What if the co-worker was your boss?

Actually, couldn’t you just quit your job and start scalping tickets full time?

Do you think the Ticket Oak would be cool with that?

Or do you think it would get all offended like in that episode of The Simpsons where Lisa found out Homer was using her to win money gambling on football games?

Is it illegal to sell tickets that freely grow from the ground?

If not, and the Ticket Oak is cool, what’s to stop the two of you from selling half-priced tickets to every event under the sun?



Like, premium quality fertilizer and mulch and stuff?

What if Ticketmaster or Live Nation sent a chainsaw-wielding assassin one night to try to kill the Ticket Oak to protect their business interests?

Do you think Ticketmaster and Live Nation saw these commercials and hired chainsaw-wielding assassins in real life, just in case?

Would you and the Ticket Oak eventually have a falling out, because he’d see the money rolling in and be all “I don’t need you. I’m the one growing all the tickets,” and you’d be like “You can’t even use a computer, with your big stupid branch arms,” and then you’d both shout “FINE. I’LL DO IT MYSELF” at the same time and storm off, but instead of storming off the Ticket Oak just stayed in one place, because it’s a tree?

Do you think a talking oak tree would be stubborn?

Wouldn’t he really have you over a barrel, since (a) he’s right, he is the one providing all the tickets, and (b) you’ve probably become accustomed to a certain lifestyle that costs a lot to maintain?

Do you think all the stress would eventually get to you and you’d just sell the property and the Ticket Oak to the highest bidder and move your family to some quiet island where all of you can finally relax?

Some nights, when you’ve had a few glasses of wine and everyone else is asleep, would you look out at the stars and really regret the way things ended with you and the Ticket Oak?

Doesn’t sound worth it to me.