So wait... are you saying you DON'T want people to avoid you? I'm having one of those "does not compute" moments, like when the cyborg-alien says "What is this... love?" As someone who dedicates every waking hour to avoiding all human interaction, I find your conundrum completely unrelatable.

All I can do is tell you what I do to make people shun me, and then maybe you can somehow apply your twisted logic to it and invert my advice to suit your needs.

First, get you a sandwich board (cardboard will do in a pinch) and, in bold letters, sprawl the ten most offensive racial and homophobic slurs you can think of on it. You may see where I'm going with this, but before you hit the sidewalks, remember this will likely just incite violence against you. So you're also going to want to wear a hat made of pig entrails and wield a large knife in one hand and severed breast in the other. Now you're ready to take to the streets.

I find when I employ this strategy I have ample room to walk and sit wherever I want, and never must I endure the inane babble others seem to thrive on. Of course, none of that applies to you since you're apparently one of the "others" I'm referring to. So... shit, I don't know. Buy the shirt and don't worry about it. All you fucking assholes get along despite your rampant irrelevance anyway.

This is too fucking weird. The moment I read you have a shaken retard in your family I was like "I wish I could see some footage of that little freak at five years old." This just proves the old adage: the more depraved you are the more the universe accommodates your desires.

In regards to your request, I'll give you a choice. Option 1 - I simply ignore your email and leave the shirt up. Or Option 2 - I remove the shirt, but to compensate for its removal, I shake a dozen babies. I realize it's a difficult choice to make, but we can't always have what we want in this life.

Just ask yourself which is more important: keeping babies safe, or upholding standards that are equal parts ridiculous and useless so you can convince yourself you're better than me? You think that over. In the mean time, I'll be at my part time job. Tardiness is not tolerated at daycare.

Ouch. You really came at us with your claws out. When requesting a free shirt, it's usually a good rule of thumb to avoid calling the person a "puss filled rectal infection." And not just because you spelled pus wrong, implying something else altogether.

However, I would like to attend a sporting event with you. The looks on the faces of all those kids with their weekend daddies as you lashed out at the T-shirt cannon guy would be priceless.

"Look, Timmy. Here comes a guy wearing a cape advertising a local fast food chain. Let's see if we can get him to shoot a shirt up here." [in background] "GARGLE MY BLOODY DIARRHEA, YOU PIG RAPER!" [awkward silence falls over Section 212] Man, that would almost make the three hours of boring that is a football game seem worthwhile.

Okay, back to your email. I will gladly oblige all your requests, let me just make sure I get the order right. 1. Give you a free shirt. 2. Have a nice time sucking your cock. 3. Get a severe urinary tract infection. 4. Die. Man, that seems like a lot of work. I'd much rather just tell you to fuck off and crawl into a pit with the rest of your mongrel race. And now I'm going to burn one thousand shirts. Just because I can.

Defenseless? I have a missing ring finger and a thigh covered in bite marks that would dispute that claim. Retards are more than capable of taking care of themselves. They have superior strength due to all the puppy stomping and violent couch sex they engage in.

What's more, their brains are better equipped than we give them credit for. They aren't encumbered by things like logic and social standards. When a tard feels threatened, they will lash out like the rabid, hairless chimps they are. Just because they don't resort to pissing estrogen-drenched emails out of their sparkly vaginas doesn't mean they don't know how to respond to insults.

You're just example #1 billion of some worthless busy body defending what doesn't need defending so later tonight you can tell yourself you made a difference as you slip into the dream where your womb isn't barren and you have coworkers who don't leave the room the second you enter.

By the way, if any of my fellow fetishists are interested, the r-word website she mentions will get you home in no time. Oh those almond-shaped eyes and mysteriously wet hands...

You can't teach an old dog new tricks. But you can throw it off an overpass.