Insert Foot is available to fill in as Taylor Hawkins in any Foo Fighters tribute bands, such as the Fooz Fighters.

My buddy and I had this silly idea this week that we could go see the Foo Fighters in Tahoe in August.

We don’t need to, as we’ve totally seen them 15 or 16 million times (probably more). But the Foos are fun, we already know the words, and it’s an excuse to go to Tahoe over the summer (because there’s nothing else to do there … maybe they should dig a lake or something).

Plus we’re both single and nothing screams hot side of man like two sober, suburban dads in their 50s telling women they’ve never met stories of almost getting a record deal 30 years ago.

We have a friend (technically his ex-wife, but after so many years we all just kind of remember we know each other) who made her own big plans. She’d already rented rooms up there anticipating getting tickets because, as you probably know, Tahoe gets busy during summers when it’s not on fire. You have to get those rooms with the escalating summer rates as soon as possible.

I don’t know if she’s part of a fancy club handing out shiny early tickets and a pre-show sandwich with Dave Grohl, but I know she has more money than me, which isn’t really an accomplishment.

Anyway … she said she’d grab us tickets. Great. We’ll get one of the cheapo rooms a few miles away, cruise up, see a show, pretend we have lives, eat semi-poisonous buffet food and come home cramping up, sunburned and exhausted. Something to look forward to for a couple days.

I figured this is Dave Grohl. He smiles a lot, so he must love his fans. He used to play cheap punk rock. Tickets probably won’t be more than $50. Dave cares about us.

But … $200?

Rooms, gas, food … we could be looking at a $1,000-weekend, once you factor in required gambling losses. And that’s not even counting all the alcohol neither of us drink anymore after exceeding our lifetime allotment.

I realize that’s walking-around money for a lot of Bay Area people. For me, it sounds dangerously close to half my rent. So I declined, believing my money would be better spent living vicariously through fictional cable TV characters or taking my kids somewhere for a few days so they’ll believe I’m a good father after I’m dead.

But our friend got in the queue early, at one point was told she was fifth in line, then was abruptly told by a corporate robot the show sold out in 38 seconds and hung up on without even hearing “goodbye.”

What kind of sick, twisted, evil corporate robot hangs up on someone without even saying goodbye?

Shutting out the masses with rude robots isn’t very rock and roll. None of this is. It’s why cover bands are so popular these days (if you’d like to start one, call me … I really need out of the house).

This isn’t an argument or a revelation as much as just a day-to-day observation. Everything costs more. Especially fun.

It costs a ton to see your favorite band in 2023. Tours get so big and agencies like Ticketmaster have such a lockdown monopoly. Even when artists like The Cure put their foot down about those mysterious fees, fans get a temporary reprieve of, what …? Five or ten bucks? That’s not even a beer I can’t drink.

Though after all the fans scratching each other’s eyes out to get Taylor Swift tickets a few months back, I see tickets for her July 28 show at Santa Clara Levi’s Stadium can be had for $49. But the volume is massive … she sells out stadiums holding 20,000 to 100,000 people.

The Foos are playing Harvey’s Outdoor Arena, where I’ve seen capacity listed from 7,000 to 9,000. They’ll still pull a nice profit, which is fine. America, capitalism, rah-rah and all that.

But that doesn’t make it less frustrating for some. I can’t really whine too much; I see shows free if I review them. That’s the trade-off for not making much in journalism. I once saw the Foos at Slim’s in SF about 10 feet from the stage (I literally bumped into Thom Yorke of Radiohead, to whom I brilliantly remarked “Hi Thom.”).

There’s an easy alternative. Keep your money close to home. Support local bands. If you want to sing along, see a tribute act. Have a couple beers and squint; you won’t know the difference. And they’ll appreciate the attention.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.