Yesterday, writer Will Gordon set a certain segment of the suds-swilling, butt-scratching Internet on fire with a list on Deadspin titled, “36 Cheap American Beers, Ranked.” Since we’d been working on our own cheap-beer rankings in honor of July 4, our first thought was, “Damn, we’ve been scooped!”, followed shortly by, “Oh wait, this is not an original idea at all!”, and then finally—upon reading through Gordon’s hastily summarized picks—”This list completely blows!” So in the interest of (un)civilized dialogue, we decided to respond directly to Monsieur Gordon and settle this matter before any good Americans have their day ruined.

First up, props where props are due: Shout out to Gordon for including regional classics like Iron City, Natty Bo, and Genesee Cream Ale. Props also for knowing what the hell Beer 30 and Game Day Ice Ale are, because straight up, we have never actually seen them in real life.

But let’s not linger on the positives, because for the most part, this list is what Bravo TV might describe as a “hot mess.” First of all, ranking thirty-six cheap beers, some of which don’t even have a reason attached to them, is a good way to let us know that you could only think of 36 beers, but that’s understandable—you might still be tired from writing amount of words about how Budweiser Black Crown is not that bad, when really it is horrendous (yes, we tried it too).

But more importantly, there are some inconceivable choices in the mix that undermine the validity of the entire endeavor. Here we have Lone Star, positioned super high at #8, yet no mention whatsoever of Shiner Bock, which is controversial enough to warrant comment if we’re being generous, and grounds for a complete disbarment from Cheap Beer Drinkers Club of America if we’re being real. Then there’s the fact that a full five of the top ten—Schaefer, Olympia, Rainier, Lone Star, and, PBR— are owned by Pabst Blue Ribbon and are, essentially, just regional versions of Pabst Blue Ribbon, which makes us wonder whether you are either getting a kickback from PBR or you just really love PBR. We’ll assume it’s the latter, since you ranked the hipster beer accessory of choice way up there at #5 and even included a self-conscious defense about “image.” Well, we all know about the In the spirit of July 4th and the Internet, two bastions of saying what you want in a loud and obnoxious manner, we decided to set the record straight with the real ranking of the top 8 cheap beers in America. Read it before you start drinking today, and then we can all forget this ever happened as we drift off into adjunct-lager oblivion.

Deadspin ranking: #17 -- Gordon admits to hating this beer as a youth but eventually coming around to it, which is noble. No real shots to fire here except to say that we think the vintage brand should be ranked a bit higher. In the realm of whatever lagers that you'd never drink one of, but can drink like ten of while still being able to talk to grandma at a family function, Old Milwaukee is right up there at the top of the heap. While most mass-market adjunct lagers are all corn-y and urine-y, Old Milwaukee at least maintains a faint hint of graininess that helps to sustain a long session.

Deadpin ranking: N/A -- Gordon recognizes the cheap-beer influence of Matt Brewing Company with his nod to Utica Club. In his view, it's the fourth best cheap beer in America. But adjunct lagers aren't the only suds popping in central New York. In fact, the style isn't popping at all. Some digging into the Matt portfolio reveals a healthy mix of German styles, including the very servicable Saranac Black Forest. At roughly $1.59 a bottle, the 5.5%-ABV Schwarzbier proves that contract-brewing giants can pump out more than nostalgia-driven American light swill. Sure, Black Forest is slightly more expensive than UC, but saving oneself from soulless suds is worth a few more quarters.

Deadpin ranking: #3 -- Here's where we agree with Gordon: Coors Original is the best of the macros. The flavor profile is inoffensive, and prevailing opinion is that the "Banquet" beer is not the worst adjunct lager out there. Yet, its subjective placement at #3 prompts the question, what is the criteria beyond "it's a half-step better than its direct competitors"? Budweiser, fittingly, doesn't even get a comment at #13. Coors Light, listed at #12, allows Gordon to workshop some water-cooler-level jokes about rap and politics—revealing only of the trolling nature of "36 Cheap American Beers, Ranked" and nothing that might convince anyone to either chuckle or learn. Why not explain that an adjunct American lager is brewed by replacing some of the malted grains with stuff like rice or corn to cut production costs? A little knowledge goes a long way in understanding why beer tastes the way it does. Coors has crap in its beer that a craft brewery wouldn't use, but it's still the usual suspect we'd be most excited to see in the cooler at an Anywhere, USA cookout.

Deadpin ranking: #25 -- Gordon's lazy knock on Pennsylvania ("Pennsylvanians don't strike me as an excessively prideful or self-important lot") reeks of a New Englander's sense of historic self-importance. The legend of America's oldest brewery has no match north of the Keystone State, nor are there many macro-brewed session beers that express the same pride in creation. What's most awesome about Yuengling? The fact that you can buy a 32-ounce bottle—perfect for Metro North trips to sleepy garden suburbs and towns that have the same short-sighted curmudgeonly attitude to other regions as Gordon.

Deadspin ranking: N/A -- Besides the gag choice of Bud Light Lime at #35 and some weird hating on Genny Cream Ale, Gordon completely overlooks the fact that not every cheap beer is an American adjunct lager. The Wisconsin favorite Leinenkugel—now owned by SABMiller—stays in the budget lane while still tinkering with different styles, and even putting out a series of "craft"-style brews called Big Eddy. The latter aren't that great, but the accessible and refreshing Sunset Wheat is a success—a great on-ramp brew to get people excited about wheat beers. It's light, summery, and actually has recognizable traces of wheat and hop bitterness. If you like Blue Moon, you should consider switching to Leine Sunset Wheat.

Deadspin: N/A -- This amber American Lager has a fuller flavor than Grainbelt's more well-known Premium, which Gordon celebrates with his #1 pick (that's like choosing Kingdom Come as Jay-Z's best album). Some snobs might refer to it as a "beginner's beer" (a drink that introduces darker suds without skewing too heavy). But when it comes to red lagers, there is no better cheapo option than this Midwestern stalwart—Killian's isn't even worthy of being in the same room.

Deadspin ranking: #2 -- Shout out to Gordon for recognizing the dopeness of 'Gansett. But wait: For coming in at #2 out of 36 and allegedly "featuring prominently in [his] refrigerator," the author doesn't seem to have much to say about the beer beyond some Wikipedia trivia about how it appears in Jaws. That is a cool fact, but arguably not as cool as its status as the official beer of the clam. But anyway, let's not get sidetracked: While cool facts and pop-culture cachet are undoubtedly important aspects of a cheap beer, when you're talking about the #2 overall pick, it's got to be about the beer itself. We love Narragansett because it operates on a completely different plane from the sub-premium stalwarts that it goes head to head with at the bar. While brands like Blue Moon and Shock Top attempt to trick people into thinking they are craft beers, 'Gansett is a Northeast classic that perfectly straddles the worlds of cheap dad beer and the quality-oriented craft community, making it the one lawnmower brew that can unite us all. It tastes like real beer and comes in tallboy cans. Game. Set. Match.