I don’t know crap about NASCAR.

I’m not a Will Ferrel fan.

Sascha Baren Cohen is overrated.

I still love Talladega Nights, The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. The movie never fails to get me to chortle out loud. Maybe it’s because of:

• John C. Reilly as Cal Naughton Jr. a.k.a. Mike Honcho.

• OK, Cohen is overrated, but Jean Girard is pretty damn funny. Hakuna matata, bitches!. You spilled my macchiato!

• Leslie Bibb as Carley Bobby is quite easy on the eyes. Then you throw in Amy Adams for good measure.

• The all-star comedy cast. When you’re giving Molly Shannon and Andy Richter bit parts, you know you’ve overprovisioned the talent.

• 1 reason, Walker (Greatest Generation my ass. Tom Brokaw’s a punk!) and Texas Ranger (Chip, I’m gonna come at you like a spider monkey!) at the dinner table.

• Oh hell, the whole damn dinner scene: “I like to think of Jesus as a mischievous badger.” “If we wanted two wussies, we would have named them Dr. Quinn and Medicine Woman!” “I like to think of Jesus as an Ice Dancer, dressed in an all-white jumpsuit, and doing an interpretive dance of my life.”

If you ain’t first, you’re last. Boy did Ferrel fall off after this one.

Talladega Nights isn’t sophisticated, but at least it’s not gross, moves fast, and there’s actually some sly little cheap shots at American hubris. Honest, I don’t feel dumber after having seen it.

Bottom line though, like a good car crash, I always hove to stop and watch Talladega Nights, ‘cause I like to party.