Written by: John MacGregor

Everybody. Stop whatever it is you’re doing right now.

Seriously. Stop.

Those of you who are familiar with me and my articles (all 11 of you), know that I am a guru at giving advice on how you can stop sucking so much ass. Those of you who are unfamiliar with me, will learn that fact after reading this insanely informative blog. My product is flawless; with this tip, you and your friends can be somewhat cool (but probably still pretty lame). Here it is:

STOP!.

Seriously. Stop.

Below is the ‘Stop List’ I’ve been compiling for the past half an hour. Print it out, hang it above your desk, vanity mirror, or your picture of Michael Moore, and then consciously make an effort to stop doing these things. And by ‘consciously make an effort’ I mean:

QUIT IT!

KNOCK IT OFF!

CUT IT OUT!

COOL IT!

SERIOUSLY…

Stop! Writing poetry.

You’re NOT good at it. No one wants to read it. Haikus, Sonnets, and Limericks are for Assholes, Dick Heads, and Nobodies. You, posting your latest Iambic Pentameter about flowers on your blog will not only make people hate you, but people will actually wish you weren’t alive anymore. Your metaphors for love and depression are not clever, so stick to writing MySpace bulletins and let poetry die already. Shel Silverstein moved on… so should you.

Stop! Showing me pictures of sunsets that you saw.

I hold a special place in my hate book for people who take pictures of sunsets.

My friend showed me a picture of a sunset one time. He goes: Hey man, I was on this cruise last weekend, and I took a picture of the mother of all sunsets, come take a look!

I immediately bit his face.

Then I stepped on his cat, slept with his mother, made a sandwich using all but one slice of turkey, and left that sunset picture taking dick head, on the floor crying. I’m sure he got up though, because the sun was about to set.

People who want to show you pictures of sunsets are the same people who want you to watch a UFC knockout.

Wait, did one guy hit the other guy really hard, and then did the other guy fall over?

**Who would’ve thought I could relate sunsets and UFC Knockouts? I did, that’s fucking who.**

It’s the same shit. Every single time.

Unless it’s a picture of you getting a tattoo with Dennis Rodman, I’m not interested. Go shove your camera in someone else’s face, because we’re all stocked up on Idiot for right now.

Stop! Celebrating 4/20.

Ho.Ly.Shit. We get it: You like to smoke pot. On April 20^th, my text message inbox was filled to the brim with all sorts of retarded ramblings about: “Blaze it up! MARY Christmas! LOLOLOL”(Yes Mary… As in Mary Jane. Stoners, stick to knowing about Del Taco’s latest deals and leave clever metaphors to the rest of us.) I had to delete like 15 peoples numbers due to this catastrophic event.

Also in this category are people who go out of their way to smoke when the time is 4:20. Do you really have nothing to do but sit around and wait for the clock to turn 4:20 so you can then just smoke pot and sit around some more? Get a job. Or just go watch Up In Smoke while jerking your roommate off.

Stop! Listening to Kings of Leon.

I remember when I first heard this band; they had that appalling song out: “Sex on Fire”. It was worse than spending time with my family. It was all whiny, and staticy, I thought the radio just wasn’t picking up a strong enough signal, hence the reason why something could sound so bad…

Then I remembered it was someone’s CD.

When I first heard them I just assumed it was another Nickleback-esque band that would have one hit, and never be heard from again, falling into the depths of suck with bands such as: POD, Puddle Of Mudd, Drowning Pool, Hinder, [insert any cock rock band that sounds remotely similar to any of the above. Yes, that includes Lifehouse, and Staind]

But then when I started hearing them over and over again, at parties, on the radio, in other peoples cars, I just became confused. How could so many people like this terrible band?

So I started reading blogs about them, expecting every word to confirm my belief that this band could possibly overthrow The Smashing Pumpkins as: Worst band ever. But instead, much like people did for the god awful Pumpkins, everyone praised the band for being “revolutionary”, and “genius”; when they should have been saying: “shitty” and “the holocaust for the ears.” On the radio the other day I heard a sentence that infuriated me to no end. Some DJ said the words: “Kings of Leon is the most powerful band in Hollywood right now.” I turned the radio off, because as the saying goes: Silence is better than listening to someone talk about how Kings of Leon is the most powerful band in Hollywood right now.

That sentence is the reason Ted Kennedy died.

**Caleb Followill: Terrible singer, or Murderer? Definitely the former, probably the latter**

Seriously, Ted Kennedy died the next morning. Coincidence? You be the judge…

Stop! Talking about Michael Jackson.

I was in the store today and STILL, almost 2 months after that psychopath died, there are magazines with his ugly, screwed on face, plastered all over every cover.

Move on. You people didn’t even like him anyway. You brought up Michael Jackson when you were watching Home Alone 2, or when you were talking about Barbara Walters look alikes.

Almost like when the Kings of Leon album dropped, and fans praised it; when MJ died, I was in awe of the sentences and statements circling around the net:

“The late great Michael Jackson…”

“The greatest superstar to ever live…”

When not one week before they were using sentences like:

“Accused rapist…”

And:

“Everybody come look, this crazy white women is chucking babies off balconies again! Let’s DVR this!”

It sickened me to see all these shit chuckers jumping on the Michael Jackson bandwagon all of the sudden. Because on July 24^th, if you saw Michael Jackson walking down the street, not only would you NOT ask him for his autograph, you would probably run into the nearest baby gap and lock the door.

But on July 25^th when he took one too many pills and dies, now everyone is googling where his funeral is going to be held so they can stand outside the Staples Center for 6 hours for “one last dance with MJ.”

Me, talking about it for these last 5 paragraphs is making me sick to my stomach. Put a lid on this shit. Michael Jackson may have invented the moonwalk in 1983, but he reinvented crazy shortly after that.

Good riddance.

Stop: Quoting Anchorman.

We all agree: You ARE Ron Burgandy; You DO love lamp; You ARE kind of a big deal. Anchorman was/is/always will be migraine developing hilarious. And you weren’t/aren’t/wont ever be. No matter how much you like Will Ferrel, stop ruining the jokes for the rest of us. Go quote ‘My Best Friends Girl’ outside of a Dane Cook CD signing, so the rest of us can watch the movie without having to be reminded of you trying (and failing) to quote a spectacular comedy such as Anchorman.

**HE had ribs for lunch. YOU didn’t.**

NOW: The Lightning Round. 5 quick ‘Stops’. (And they will be quick, it should only take me 15 seconds to write all these down.)  No explanations. Just listen.

Stop: Making me look at your new tattoos. Unless you’re a women, and you’ll have to remove a piece to show me, I don’t care you got a Koy Fish on you’re arm and it symbolizes strength… or maybe peace… you can’t remember.

Stop: Wearing striped button down shirts to clubs (guys).

Stop: Screaming for no apparent reason (ladies). “We’re at Best Buy! WoOoOoOoOoOoooOOooooOO!!!!!!” Keep your voice down so I can buy Bride Wars in peace please.

Stop: typng txt msgs lyk dis 2 me. it iz rly fckng annoyng tht u dn knw how 2 spel.

Stop: Saying “literally”. There is never a sentence that is enhanced by the word “literally.” “I literally went to the mall today.” As opposed to figuratively going?

There you go people. Stop doing all those things and you’re guaranteed to suck at least 35% less ass than you do right now, or you’re money back. I’m not really going to give you you’re money back. But if you e-mail me: iamjohnmacgregor@gmail.com and tell me you’re dissatisfied with your results, I will be glad to send you a picture of my testicles. Free of charge.

Literally.

• The Telly