A collection of thoughts from the weekend of sports.
The world's new gold standard in superfluous sport is the NBA All-Star game.
Without doubt the most fatuous, tedious, couldn't care less waste of space to be annually broadcast.
I'm starting to sound like the Toulon owner saying that. Just a quick word then on Julian Savea. Start playing well mate!
The guy's hired you to be The Bus and that's what he wants. Instead he bought a people-mover, a pale shadow of the player Julian once was - only we all knew this before he left.
We all love the big man but he hasn't been that tackle-breaking, line-busting beast we all knew for more than a couple seasons now.
I'd label this rather poor scouting from Mr Money-bags Boudjellal. Calling Julian Savea a current All Blacks like claiming the new F1 Ferrari car is still coloured red.
But back to the farce that was the All-Star snore fest.
What exactly is the point of this over-hyped excuse for a shoot-a-round?
Apart from making trillions of $$ of course there is no point. And that's exactly the point.
Hell, if you can sit through 3 hours of this drudge I applaud you.
The only performance worthy of real praise is that by the commentators having to pretend they're interested or care in a whole heap of highly-talented superstars having a game of Harlem Globetrotters.
It's Grandad scrums for 3 hours is what it is. The most irrelevant of all Davis Cup dead rubbers.
If it is was a charity event raising money for a real charity, i.e. NOT their equivalent of our Rugby and Cricket Players Associations, then I hope they raised the roof and a whole heap more.
But please don't try and pretend it's anything to do with a sporting contest because no true basketball fan ever would.
It's like everything in life I suppose, if you like it you like it just don't ask me to watch it with you.
Because for me, the All-Star game is about as riveting as a re-run of last year's Masterchef.