The More You Ignore Me Read Online Free PDF

one had discovered my “real” name for quite some time, and I am of course clever enough to cover my “cyber tracks,” so I assumed I could not be traced.
    I was able to persist through the resistance and mockery (“Are you really trolling a wedding website?” “ STOP THE MADNESS ,” and so forth) until I was tarnished (again!) and dismissed (again!).
    Treachery!
    It pains me terribly.
    Which is why I am now reaching out to you, dear readers, for I have been blocked, banned, and cast aside like some 19th-century madwoman.
    But what concern could any of this possibly be of yours?
    I am sorry—a man can go on all night when he is in front of the computer screen.
    What a cold light it gives off!
    Not flattering to my features in the least, though I dare say I look a robust and vigorous forty-two.
    I keep my goatee trim and wash my face with a secret astringent tincture every morning (in due time, my dears, in due time, I may tell you its components), so that even in the silver light of the screen I do not look such a cold fish.
    I may, depending on how this goes, even attach a self-portrait for you.
    Would you like that?
    I daresay you might!
    Here!
    I am embedding it!
    Keep it close to you, saucies!
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    I have been shunned.
    That is what I mean to say.
    I wish I could say I’m not used to such treatment, but I have been rejected, ignored, flung aside, and left for dead many times in life.
    Oh, you have no idea!
    From the very start!
    You see, my own father was a navy man, and he had the terrible misfortune to sire me only months before shipping off with the USS Maddox .
    Does that name ring a bell?
    Or are you also of this idiotic generation that only knows the names of Ke$ha’s entourage and not of those woefully mistreated, abused, and perhaps even murdered in the name of freedom for the United States of America?
    I love this country.
    I do.
    I love it with all my heart, but I fear it has gone terribly astray.
    It showed a small flicker of hope in the last century, but that hope has been snuffed out, that love has been squandered, and not as it was in my dear father’s time, for something we all could believe in, but for baubles and trinkets!
    The Indians have their revenge, eh?
    We bought this land from them for costume jewelry, and we’ll give the soiled remains back because we’re so distracted by, what, celebrity “panties”?
    Yes.
    What a cruel and incomprehensible world this is!
    And my case, what I’m presenting to you, is but a meager manifestation of this cruelty and incomprehensibility.
    But for that very reason—because it is a miniscule capitulation to idiocy—we must not yield!
    Don’t look away!
    Join me in reclaiming the righteous path!
    It is not too late, despite what pernicious logorrhea you may have been subjected to by that ungrateful, small-minded, dime-store Hitler of a moderator Charli has in her employ.
    Oh what a fateful day it was when she accepted that scallywag and allowed him to “moderate” her site!
    I’m sure he arrived stinking of cologne, glad-handing and flattering the “wedding party,” lulling them into thinking he might, with his modest credentials, youthful zeal, and relation to the groom, help steer their site safely through the perilous waters into a snug harbor.
    What a light touch on the wheel that would have required!
    The conversations, the ideas, the esprit de corps all arrived with me and began thriving, but then he strolled in with his wretched usurping arrogance to ask, “What is your problem?”
    All he had to do was make sure someone kept the power on, since I was not just without problem, I had turned his wedding blog into a study in vitality!
    On the precipice of real change!
    But then the sulphurous bean decided to make everyone “register as family.”
    Oh ho!
    Isn’t that always the first step?
    But register we did, “family” or no!
    At