All of our U.S. readers– enjoy your Fourth. The rest of you, enjoy your soup or whatever the hell you do while we grill out, get drunk and shoot off illegal fireworks. USA! USA! USA!.

The Big Lead has long been sports bloggers’ quiet in-joke. But the LA Times’s David Wharton had to go and portray the blogosphere’s intellectual stepchild as some kind of mouthpiece for sports bloggers, and that didn’t go over too well. On Buzz Bissinger’s outburst against Will Leitch:

“The initial reaction was ‘Buzz is a lunatic,’ ” McIntyre said. “After that, people calmed down, listened to what he said and thought, ‘You know, maybe we should clean up our act a little bit.’ “

As someone with a fully functional frontal lobe, I of course disagree. As did Leitch, who wrote about the article — and McIntyre’s disconnect with reality — yesterday on Deadspin. That prompted this response on The Big Lead:

And then a flurry of emails saying, “[The Deadspin post] is like Puffy laying in the cut setting up Tupac at the studio and now it’s time to bust back!” Sorry folks, I never really played that game. This guy named Matt Ufford attempted it repeatedly, and I just elected not to engage in it.

Oooh, “this guy named Matt Ufford.” That cuts deep. The Big Lead barely knows I exist! Why, he’s far too busy fellating local columnists to know who his peers are! Golly, thanks for turning the other cheek, mister! Otherwise I would have wasted all sorts of precious seconds destroying someone with the verbal acuity of a community college dropout. Or, say, an US Weekly staffer.

Just so we’re clear: I never attempted to “engage” Jason McIntyre in anything. After months of occasional and frustrating dialog over email, I told him precisely why I don’t respect him professionally and asked that he not email me. I’ve also occasionally expressed my opinion — usually via subtle digs, once openly — that I don’t like The Big Lead. So, breaking news: I don’t like a website. It doesn’t mean I’m trying to engage said website’s author in some wasteful war of words. Besides, everything bad about me has already been said: I’m overly sensitive, I’m egomaniacal, I’m condescending, I’m pretentious, I won’t hesitate to lord my military service over people, I peddle smut – really, the list goes on. There aren’t any more original angles to take on how much of an asshole I am. Not that McIntyre would be able to take one, anyway.

But, while we’re on the subject of a hypothetical battle royale, you’ll pardon me if I yawn while I contemplate his pointed barbs. Here’s McIntyre’s sharp-tongued response to a commenter who questioned his typically twisted syntax yesterday:

Didn’t know EB Shrunk read the site. Good to know!

You know, it would be funny if it were an act. After one of McIntyre’s readers sends him this link — Lord knows he doesn’t read any blog posts that aren’t served to him over email — perhaps he can purchase his very own copy of the essential guide for anyone who cares about written communication, co-authored by the foremost American belletrist of the 20th century, E.B. White, and one of his professors, William Strunk. Strunk. With a T. You fucking clod.

Until that happens, McIntyre, keep my name out your mouth, unless it’s to say, “Thank you, Matt Ufford, for having the decency to not reveal my identity while I was collecting paychecks and wasting oxygen at US Weekly.”

Leave me to my nice little bubble of cheap jokes and frivolity, and get back to doing what you do best: counting your page views and sucking media cock.

I live suburban Maryland and work in suburban Virginia. To get to work every day, I have to cover a 10-mile stretch of the Capitol Beltway, one of the absolute worst roadways in America. Washington is #2 on the list for worst traffic in the nation, and it’s a well-earned accolade.

In my over four years of commuting on the Beltway, I have encountered pretty much every kind of bad driver you can think of. I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen Pennsylvania drivers who appear to have stepped into a motor vehicle for the very first time. I’ve seen Asian drivers who lack the ability to see any car on the road except their own. I’ve been tailgated by any number of redneck jalopies with ABORTION STOPS A BEATING HEART bumper stickers.

I’ve encountered drivers who refuse to either speed up or slow down as I try to merge onto the Beltway, going the EXACT same speed as me in order to, for whatever reason, run me off the road. I guess they weren’t happy about my Blog Show appearance. I’ve run into drivers who are constantly lightly tapping down on their brake pedals, so that their brake lights come on without them ever actually slowing down. I’ve seen any number of unmarked vans make the “swerve over three lanes to get on the exit ramp” move. I’ve seen drivers in downtown DC who just stop in the middle of the road for no reason. I’ve seen people go 40 in the left-hand lane.

I’ve encountered off duty policemen riding their Kawasaki Ninjas at over 4,000,000 mph. I’ve seen any number of families pulled over on the side of the road, not because they’re broken down, but because they wanted to use the shoulder as a kind of makeshift rest stop. I don’t want to say those people are usually black, but yeah, they’re usually black. I’ve sat behind cell phone users, Blackberry users, iPhone users, Apple Newton users, Koala Pad users, etc. If there’s an electronic device to operate recklessly while driving a motor vehicle, I’ve seen a driver use it.

From my experience, I have become not just an expert in shitty driving, but also a bad driving enthusiast. They’re just such a diverse group of retarded people. It’s quite fascinating. Often, my better half and I will try and figure out who the very worst of the lot are. Not by racial stereotype, mind you. That would be wrong. Also, we’ve already done it.

No, we’ve tried to break it down strictly by make. Which brand of car engenders the shittiest driving? Well, here is my Top 5. Keep in mind that I spend at least two hours a day dodging these accident-seeking missiles. I’m also the occasional bad driver myself. So I know of what I speak. A couple qualifiers here:

-No semis are on the list. We all know semis are fucking awful.
-No old cars on the list. Any old, banged up car with a shitload of bumper stickers obviously houses a dumbfuck motorist.
-No motorcycles. Again, they’re all terrible.
-No buses. God, I hate bus drivers.
-No high-end sports cars like Ferrari, because they’re too rare. Porsche is right on the edge.
-No individual models.

Anyway, right to the Top 5:

1. BMW

Second place isn’t even close. Beamer drivers are, bar none, the most selfish, pushy, assholic drivers on the American road. Every BMW driver I’ve encountered seems genuinely offended that they have to share the road with me. They tailgate with almost a 100% frequency. And they are constantly, CONSTANTLY, trying to show off their Beamer’s speed and handling. Hey fuckhead, you’re not on the fucking Nürburgring. Take off the fucking driving gloves and find an embankment to crash into.

2. Volkswagen

I’ve been vehicularly harassed by too many Volkswagens to count. These fucking yuppie chicks with their zippy little fucking bugs. Jesus. I blame the whole “Drivers wanted” campaign. “We want people who love to drive! Who want to take advantage of our German engineering to cut off multiple cars on the road in just seconds!” Put down the fucking Starbucks, turn down the Nick Drake, and take your fucking foot off the gas. You overpaid for a German Buick. Your car is a poorly thought out, overpriced piece of shit. Go buy a Prius like every other liberal asshole. Das auto? More like Das cockpumper.

3. Saturn

A different kind of company. A different kind of fucking idiot. Yes, Saturn. The car for people who don’t know what kind of car they want. Designed in Japan. Built in America. Driven, apparently, by epileptics. It’s as if they aren’t even using the steering wheel. Quite amazing, really.

4. Lexus

I’m convinced 50% of all DC Lexus drivers are between 16 and 17 years old. Yes, if you’ve always wanted Daddy to buy you a luxury car and pay off the DMV inspector before your driving test, Lexus is the way to go for you.

5. Lincoln

Lincoln makes two kinds of cars: The Town Car, for insane car service drivers, and, of course, the Navigator. I don’t know why it’s called the Navigator. Drivers of that car don’t seem to have sketched out a navigational plan of any sort. Perhaps it’s because Navigator drivers are usually filthy rich suburban housewives trying to calm down the seven kids sitting the back.

So, to all you haughty Beamer drivers, all you overly-peppy VW drivers, and all you clueless Saturn, Lexus, and Lincoln drivers, let me just say…

HOOOOOOONKKKKKKKK!

ASSSSSSSHOOOOOOOLES!

You don’t have to be a douchebag to be a good skier, but it certainly helps.

Good fucking God. I go on vacation for one random week in March and I miss all sorts of crazy shit. Since I missed so much recently I decided to cover all of the fun off-topic goodness in one sprawling post. It’s win-win for you, the reader, because it’s stuff you never cared about to begin with and it’s longer than Drew’s old-man balls. Huzzah!

-Number One Threat to America: Bear Stearns

Yeah that’s right, America’s fucking broke. That’s why I store all of my money inside of Nick Denton’s large head-vault. Fortunately for the rest of you the government is sending out some stimulus checks. They really want you to boost the economy by spending the money as opposed to saving it, which is why they’re making all of the banks collapse just in time. Personally, I plan on using my stimulus moneys to purchase illicit substances…from foreigners! Take that, Capitalism!

Speaking of nonsensical financial blather…

-TBL Came Out!

Some have said that this announcement came on the heels of FJM’s revelation, but all of this started when I appeared on Blog Show. The important question remains, how can US Weekly possibly survive without JRM’s editorial oversight?

-The Brothers Karamazov > The Brothers Marquez

That’s right Drew, I’m talking about boxing and you can’t do shit about it! A couple of weeks back Israel Vasquez barely beat Rafael Marquez and then on Saturday night Pac-Man barely beat Juan Manuel Marquez. Everybody got really bloody and had a good time. Seriously, you could see JMM’s brain through the cut on his eye.

-Uranus Still Hates Atlantans

First these southerners bitch about a little drought and now they get some rain and they can’t handle the wind that comes with it? No wonder they couldn’t win a fucking civil war.

-Some Basketball Something Or Other

IT’S MARCH MOTHERFUCKING MADNESS!

Some of you might be aware that I’m rather fond of the sport of basketball (and the race of man that tends to excel at said sport) and I have a particular appreciation for the amateur variety. As the self-appointed basketball genius of the gay I’m taking it upon myself to give you our initial breakdown of all things bracket. What follows is a list of rules you have to abide by if you’re going to participate in the springtime festivities.

Brackets > Hair

Do: Know everything about college basketball.

Sure, we’re the guys who lost a bracket challenge to the Womyn Ladies. But remember, I won the individual title because I’m a testosterone-fueled genius who actually watches PAC 10 games.

Don’t: Attempt to fill in your pathetically average knowledge with research.

If you can’t pick the tournament blind then you’re already fucked. Two kinds of people win these things, People who care way too much about basketball and people who pick Drake to make an Elite 8 run because they “love the Drake.”

Don’t: Read a stupid list of rules for filling out your bracket.

You’re already failing at a second-grade level!

Do: Bitch about the diabolical snubbery of the selection committee.

“Waaaah! VCU, VT, and UVA* didn’t get in, why does the NCAA hate the Commonwealth of Virginia?” Sound familiar? If so it’s because you can’t react to Selection Sunday without a bit of indignation.

Oh, and to answer your question, Virginia is the AIDS of states.

*Never actually had a chance

Yeah, I’m never leaving town again.

Football’s laborious off-season is officially upon us, but there are all sorts of fun things going on outside of the NFL. Here’s a quick roundup of all the football and non-football news you need to know.

-Fidel Castro is stepping down as Cuba’s leader due to his old age and failing health. The Patriots think they’ve found their newest linebacker.

-Zach Thomas is on the move!

-Zach’s former teammate/in-law, Jason Taylor will appear on the next season of Dancing With the Stars. He hopes that ABC’s “hit” show will convince the Pats that he is in fact white enough to join their ranks.

-Roman Polanski is being honored at the Turin Film Festival. He will celebrate by fondling a child under the cover of an old shroud.

-Lindsay Lohan showed off her milky white laters leaving millions to wonder why her freckles are so scared of her tits.

-JE Skeets modeled a football helmet.

-The strangest group photo ever taken outside of a blogger get-together was snapped backstage at a WWE event. I’m convinced that Lohan and Mayweather would make the world’s greatest child. I’m also convinced that Shane McMamahon has had cosmetic surgery to look more like his father.

-LZ Granderson hung out with Brady Quinn.

-Lil’ Stein says that the NFL has a bigger drug problem than MLB. He’s probably just associating long hair with drug use, which is unfair. Robert Gallery is high on bundt cake, not drugs.

-Champion’s League (best theme song in sports) is back, but I won’t bore you with that euro football crap. Instead I give you this picture of Cheryl Cole, who is about to tell Chelsea’s Ashley Cole to go fuck himself. As if that’s new. I told him to go fuck himself when he first showed up.

-ONLY TWO MORE DAYS UNTIL THE COMBINE!

It’s primary day here in the DC area. Due to the fact that I am a registered independent and a convicted embezzler/animal sex offender, I’m not eligible to vote in any of these things. I tried to change my registration, but I was far too late to do so. But, if I were eligible, I would totally vote for this guy, Barack Obama. In fact, I even gave his campaign ten dollars, and I plan on happily voting for him in November. Now, I have political reasons for voting for Obama. I like him, I like his policies, I think he’s a great leader and all that shit.

But fuck all that for a moment. There’s another reason I want to vote for Obama, and it is this. Voting for Barack Obama gives me, a white person, a new and refreshing way to let people know that I am NOT a racist. For years, after making a terrible ethnic joke, I always tried to counter any accusations of racism with the tired excuse, “Hey, I’ve got black friends.”

First of all, this excuse has been beaten into the ground by too many white people (such as me) over the years. No one buys it anymore, and rightfully so. You’re just a boy crying black wolf if you say it. Second of all, I haven’t seen my one black friend in over a year. Which sucks, because my friend Turk (not his real name, nor does he call me JD) may know more about pornography than any man in history. The darkest friend I have after that is my friend Tony, and I only say he’s dark because he wears lots of black and is on lithium. The rest of my friends are whiter than a blank Word document.

So that excuse doesn’t wash any more for my lily-white preppy Bethesda ass. If I want to deflect any and all racial criticism, I’m gonna need something better. And that’s what this knight in shining chocolate armor gives me. How racist can I be if I actively contributed to and voted for a silky smooth black man to be leader of the free world? Answer: NOT RACIST AT ALL!

Did I complain about that fat black woman who was walking too slowly down the sidewalk, whom I could not get around? Sure did. But I’m not racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT. Do I know every line of “Blazing Saddles” by heart? Oh, yeah. But I’m not racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT. Does my sphincter tighten if I’m alone in a parking garage late at night after a movie and I see a black man approaching? Possibly. But I’m not racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT. Do I think that John Thompson may be legally retarded? Good God, yes. But I’m not racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT.

You see? With one pull of the lever, I’ve got a whole new excuse for all my minor prejudices and subconscious anxieties towards people who are different from me. And that buys me another decade or so to avoid confronting and trying to fix all those pesky inner flaws. Oh, the freedom tastes so sweet!

AND it gives me carte blanche to accuse OTHER white people of being racist, which is just about the most enjoyable thing in the world. Because, if you didn’t know it by now, the fact is that the most racially offensive thing to call a white person today is “racist”. “Honky” and “cracka” don’t bother them in the least. But call a white person the r-word? Holy shit, do they get upset. It’s terrific fun. Look at all those Massholes. They voted for that white Clinton bitch in the primary. WHAT A BUNCH OF FILTHY RACISTS! If only they had voted for Obama like me, then they would be extremely NOT racist. But they didn’t, so fuck those unenlightened, Klan-rallying racists.

I’m also hoping this vote gives me an opportunity to broaden my ethnic joke repertoire. Ever notice how Asian people treat other people as if they’re completely invisible? Or that some black grocery store clerks always need the key? Those are topics I’d really like to touch on. Not that I’m racist. I VOTED FOR OBAMA, GOD DAMMIT.

I tell you, playing this Obama card will work absolute wonders for us all. We’re about to enter a whole new world of acceptable ethnic humor, which I think will help unify us all. Can we make it happen? Well, if I may be so bold: YES WE CAN!

UPDATE: Some other asshole had this idea before I did. Well, fuck that guy. He’s a fucking racist.

Apparently, among our demented readership are some of the twisted bastards at Ketchup Friends. In this video they demonstrate one of the lesser known properties of this stalwart tailgating condiment.

Surprise: they’re Lions fans. One thing is for certain, I’m off ketchup for good. From now on, it’s catsup or nothing.

Even the most lay readers of this site know we’re alt.nerd.obsessive fans of The Simpsons, larding nearly every post with arcane references and quotes from the show. I try to make a game of it. I see how many obscure Simpsons references I can make in an hour, then I try to break that record.

Like most of those whose formative years occured during the show’s ascent (for the record, seasons 3-9), I have a lot of personal memories tied up with at least the first nine seasons or so. My best friend and I became close in 8th grade through quoting the Don Homer (”Don Homer, my son, he’s-uh…” “Ah. ah. ah. … That’s-uh good-uh donut.”) bit to death. Even back then, in 1995, we speculated on when a Simpsons movie might get made and what they could do. Of course, had it been made then, it’d have been a brazilian times better.

The show has so dramatically shaped my sense on humor and outlook, it’s hard for me to identify with people who haven’t followed it. Most of the seminal literary or cinematic references of our time I saw on The Simpsons first and then recognized in the actual work they were visually citing. I once forced a date to wait 30 minutes before going out because The Lemon Tree Episode, a personal fave, came on during the hourlong daily block.

My expectations for the movie? None too high. The trailers and spots look a bit like the last seven seasons, pratfall-y and stupid. But I’m hoping the producers just have enough faith in the brand that they don’t feel the need to give away great material from the film in the ads. Still, you know it would take dogs-with-bees-in-the-mouths-and-when-they-open-their- mouths-they-shoot-bees-at-you to keep me away.

So, to mark this sweet moment, we planted this lemon tree, lemons being the sweetest fruit available at the time went on The Simpsons Movie web site and created avatars of the Gay Mafia, offering our readers a rare glimpse (excepting that TV whore Ufford) of our collective animated countenances.

Punter

You had to look at it for a good few seconds to make sure it wasn’t really Kearney, didn’t you? And, yes, when he has a kid, it’s sleeping in a drawer.

Nerdlinger Ape

You’ll notice that’s Scratchy on the shirt. Because I own a cat, in case I hadn’t already mentioned that fact a hundred times too many.

flubby

Little does flubby know Clasina Valkenberg has obtained a trademark on the soul patch.

The Maj

We were hoping Unsilent would make a more accurate avatar. He’s not nearly that tall.

CaveUfford

Someone apparently has a pretty deluded, er, positive self-image.

Drew

He was a little let down by the lack of towel accessories in the avatar feature.

Performed live from the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center in the Philippines. Good seats still available! Thanks to Curly of NY for sending this to us (via poetv.com)