Standing outside of a private club for fancy men this morning, senator and presidential hopeful Ted Cruz made it clear that he is ready to buck with Barack Obama. “If you want to insult me, you can do it overseas, you can do it in Turkey, you can do it in foreign countries,” Cruz intoned. “But I would encourage you, Mr. President, come back and insult me to my face.”

BroBible says this email has been making the rounds "among the #financebros of New York," and its easy to see why: After all, they too were once aspiring #financebro being forced to choose between love and lots of money.

Looking to brush off a reporter's question with some style, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid today issued a timely retort to an inquiry from Roll Call's Steve Dennis about plans to force Republicans to go on record about immigration by bringing the DREAM Act to the floor.

If you want to know what type of show VH1's My Big Friggin' Wedding (which shortens to Friggin' - their choice) is, get acquainted with this clip. Jersey Shore-esque? Yes. A tad more mature, but not by a long shot.

In an effort to cut down on roid-raging officers, the NYPD has banned not only illegal steroids, but also bodybuilding supplements like Hydroxycut and "Arom-X." What will the NYPD ban next, Super Tren XTreme and all the other great products by ROCKHARD FORMULATIONS? Oh crap they're banned too!

Alternate headline: "Irony of MTV's Jersey Shore Losing Advertising by Business Offensive to Most Italian-Americans Obviously Lost on Both Parties." Whatever; they're just not going to be in on the fist-pumping fun. Pass the hair gel. [TMZ]

The Sunday Styles finally went to Fashion Meets Finance, an event where Manhattan banker-types and fashion slaves meet, consummate, and procreate certain genetics to create lineages of people you'd rather not know. Their findings are, while nothing new, nonetheless awesome.

In an exciting bit of rumor that almost makes us want to take the rest of the week off, a tipster tells us they heard on Philly radio that Zoolanderesque performance artist Arthur Kade's getting a reality TV show. Uh.

You know what was sort of fun? When like around the year 2000, comedies about men stopped being about complete fucking idiots and the sassy exasperated women who love them and became comedies about slovenly yet lovable dudes who may chase the muff around, but in the end really just want to fall in love. They weren't the most progressive of films, but they were funny (Wedding Crashers, Old School, etc.) and at times endearing (40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up). But you know what isn't fun? The odious culture of Bro that Daily Intel is righteously angry about that sprang up like a nacho-cheese-smelling weed in the newly tilled field of gender studies created by these films. I mean look: there are now books like Brocabulary: The New Man-i-festo Of Dude Talk and a social networking site called BroBible that allows dudes to "share stories of weekend revelries and exchange tips on romantic endeavors" (so basically, eHighFiving about Jaeger and pussy). There's also The Foggy Monocle—a site we admit to sometimes enjoying, except when there are posts like this. And, as the coup de grâce, there is the Brody Jenner reality program, punnily called Bromance. It's just gone too far! Beer and farts and pretzels and bikinis and boorishness and messy rooms and unwashed hair and sloppy Band of Brothers-isms and all that is sort of endearing for a bit, but the minute it becomes so hyper-commodified like this, co-opted by big ol' marketing strategies, it, like so many other trends, becomes so epically embarrassing that I can barely bring myself to admit that a book called The Bro Code even exists. But what's the corrective for it? I mean, is the bro-ness blowback from the cult of Ladybusiness that was heel-clacked and button-snapped into existence by Sex and the City? Will this dudenami eventually ebb back into the sea of the gender war, and we'll have another placid few years of mild Friends-ian sexual dynamics to apathetically contend with? At this point, I sort of hope so. Because if I hear one more thing about guy code (even though it is used in the hilarious It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia) or bro-ness, I just might have to get all up in your face with hilariously clueless karate moves or like a little kid with glasses or an Asian chick or something. You know, something that's bro-funny. Actually funny bro-ness:

Why the hell have we written so much about Tucker Max? Because you want to read it! What started out as nothing more than a one-off request to have a look at a bad movie script has blossomed into full-blown miniseries chronicling the many dimensions of our bro Tucker's internet-famous personality. But why did anyone care about this rather pedestrian guy in the first place? Schadenfreude is involved, we suspect. We've taken the time to delve into the psychology of this pressing issue below, in the Gawker Field Guide To Tucker Max. Complete with photos from Tucker's incredible life! Who is he?

After Fark.com's Drew Curtis sent us a firsthand account last week of life on the set of I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell, the upcoming comedic movie masterpiece written by fratire dude Tucker Max, another crew member followed up with his own list of gripes to us about working under a first-time movie maker who's also one of America's foremost assholes. I enjoy these leaks because-unlike our own in-house appraisals of Tucker's style-they come from people with no real ideological reason to dislike the man. Some people just want to work in peace! After the jump, our tipster's account of Tucker Max-"usually pricks like him are surrounded by pricks," he says, but in this case, "there's just one dick and he's a big one."