Vaulting The Carcharias 

Somewhere between Bud Selig's 2002 tie-game brain melt and Jayson Stark's soul-numbing recap of yesterday's home run derby, I completely lost interest in the All-Star Game.

Everybody, do it with me: The Bud Shrug!

Exactly how I feel, Bud. Eh. Feh. Yawn.

The endless Fox drumbeat of insipid advertising -- Derek Jeter and Chipper Jones as construction workers? Pittsburgh? Steel City? Get it?; the wall-to-wall coverage of everything surrounding the game, including the players' modes of transport; the cretinous rule that every team must have a representative: enough.

I might watch tonight, unless I have to wash my hair or fumigate under the sink for cockroaches. It's that uninteresting. Layer the bland spongy dreariness of the game with a thick goopy frosting of Tim McCarver and Joe Buck, and, baby, you can leave that cake out in the rain.


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