Batman, in town for a boat show, confronts Jerry “The King” Lawler dressed as Superman at a TV station in Memphis. Hilarity doth ensuit.

[From Nerve's list of the 20 oddest TV interviews ever]

To stave off the specter of boredom or maybe just to sublimate our own latent rapey urges, the Gay Mafia occasionally engages in hour-long sessions of e-mail-based rape joke bandying. Really works out the dark urges. Yesterday, in what began innocently enough as a discussion of which reader has creeped us out the most at various blogger meet-ups then quickly morphed into a whirlwind brainstorm of how rapists would alter popular board games. Because we’re sick deviants like that. And, being so, we enjoy passing our pathology onto you, the reader. Preferably against your will.

**No rapist’s game shelf would be complete without handcuffs, And, of course, the game of Battlerape!

“You sunk my Rapesub!”

And now there’s Electronic Battlerape! With sound effects!

“D-Rectum? It’s a hit!”

“Beware the submarine — long, hard, etc.”

**A rapist sets up a spy cam in the dressing rooms in Mall Madness.

**They always like a good game of Connect Four Toddlers.

**Rapists naturally love Rape-opoly. Sample Chance card:

“You win first prize in a beauty contest. And then are raped.”

**Every time he captures a country in Risk, he rapes you using methods specific to that nation.

**Rapists love Twister. RIGHT FOOT LEFT LABIA

**Rapists claim Parcheesi is Hindi for “forced entry.”

**When playing Trivial Pursuit, a rapist goes right for the pink triangle.

**Only a rapist will call his scrotum the “Popomatic bubble”

**I’ve found that many rapists love a good game of Chutes and More Chutes.

**Candyland is the #1 game played in their windowless vans.

**Rapists are hard at work developing a new version of Mouse Trap, complete with a cage capable of subduing even the lithest tween.

**rapists adore a good game of TABOO. Guess the word without saying these five clue words!

crime
penetration
violation
bruising
rope

**A rapist will always choose rapist as their profession when playing The Game of Life. Then they rape all the pink and blue stick figures. Then the spin wheel.

**A rapist was the first and last champion of “Win Ben Stein’s Skin and Internal Organs.”

**A classic among rapists: Guess Who…Is Sneaking In Your Bedroom At Night

**Kerplunk is the noise it makes when he takes his dick out of your ass.

**They play Sorry! with kids only AFTER raping them

**Yahtzee is what a rapist screams when he rapes an ESPN anchor

**Rapists win every game of Scene It?: Rape Edition

**Rapists write letters to the makers of Operation demanding they supply them with the missing Penis Bone.

**The rapist version of Jeopardy! The Home Game! has nothing to do with the TV show.

**A rapist loves playing Clue, but it’s the same result every time. Col. Mustard, in the ass, with the candlestick.

**The rapist version of Chinese Checkers involves a confused 12-year-old and some anal beads

**Don’t challenge a rapist in Horny Horny Rapists. He always get more balls.

[Tinkly piano bullshit]

My mother used to say always keep your legs open

It’s the only way to give and receive love

But sometimes you have to jam those legs shut to get the chintzy jewelry you want for Valentine’s Day.

That’s the inspiration behind my Open Legs collection at Kay Jewelers

I worked with Kay because it’s a chain of mall jewelers and only they would carry something so tacky that will appeal to high school juniors buying trinkets for their fuck buddies

My hope is that my Open Legs design becomes a universal symbol of relationship prostitution and lowered expectations. Because I’m a narcissistic cunt who thinks a doodle I made in five minutes can capture the imaginations of billions.

Because when your legs are open, love will always find its way in.

[Annoying sound signature]

Read the rest of this entry »

Ringo Starr, one of the three two surviving members of the Beatles, along with that guy who got divorced by that greedy amputee bitch and Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, has issued the diktat to his fans that he will no longer be receiving their fan mail as of next Monday. So be sure to dash off that last billet deux to this douche in short order. Apparently he has too much to do, which for his sake does not include helping Paul put out another another album. Of course, this development pains no one more than portraiture artist Marge Simpson. What will inspire her to paint Burns in the buff now? Hey, at least he’s warning fans “with peace and love”.

As Maj said, “How do you warn with peace and love? You’re supposed to warn with anthrax and daggers.” Anthrax, huh? In the mail? It’s just crazy enough to work!

Shawshank in a Minute

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.