There has never been a better time to be a freelance reporter. By “freelance,” I mean “unemployed.” Being employed means being subject to the whims of Donald Trump, which in effect means being unemployed.

On Monday, Trump announced that he was revoking the The Washington Post’s press credentials because of its, as he put it, “incredibly inaccurate coverage” of his campaign. Trump called the Post “phony and dishonest” for running a story with the headline “Donald Trump suggests President Obama was involved with Orlando shooting.” That was not the headline. The actual headline was “Donald Trump seems to connect President Obama to Orlando shooting.”

But whatever. It doesn’t matter.

The Washington Post is the latest in a series of news outlets whose reporters Trump has blacklisted. Others include Politico, the Daily Beast, Gawker, BuzzFeed, Huffington Post, Fusion, Univision, Foreign Policy, Mother Jones, the New Hampshire Union Leader, and the Des Moines Register.

I respect all of these organizations, if for no other reason than that Trump disrespects them. If you’re in the media and Trump says nice things about you, you’re either doing a bad job or not doing your job.

What bothers me is not Trump’s mistreatment of the press but his non-treatment of me. I have criticized him more times than he can count, and not once has he retaliated. Not once has he called me a loser or a fat pig, or threatened to deport me. Nor has he revoked my press credentials, because I have none.

My criticisms are, I am certain, sufficiently harsh to warrant a cyberattack from him. I have accused Trump in print of “unremitting buffoonery,” of ignorance, of sexism and xenophobia, of poor taste and bad manners, of mirror-induced erections, and of almost endorsing incest. Alas, it seems, my profile is insufficiently high.

Happily, this can change.

It’s a mistake to say that Trump attacks those who attack him. He attacks prominent people, some of whom may have said something that irked him. The list includes the pope, Martha Stewart, and other heroes. Sadly, it does not include me.

If you’re obscure and unimportant, Trump will not attack you personally. This is comforting to most Americans, but not to me. I used to consider my non-celebrity a professional handicap, my lack of a verified Twitter account an embarrassment. I still do. My obscurity is a shield from Trump’s invective, a shield that I wish would go away.

Trump is perfectly willing to say the words “radical Islam,” but he refuses to utter the name of another enemy: Windsor Mann. Probably because he’s never heard of it.

This too can change.

Trump has attacked two of my former bosses, Stephen F. Hayes and Jonah Goldberg, as well as my former co-worker Megyn Kelly. Yes, I am name-dropping—that’s how desperate and pathetic and similar to Trump I am.

Rather than accuse me of menstruating, Trump has not voiced an opinion about me.

Trump is missing out. I am incredibly easy to make fun of. I’m a heterosexual white male, so there’s no risk of offending anyone. I sometimes (often) wear pajamas during the daytime and, even worse, tweet about reality shows rather than star in them. Also, a girl in New York once compared my hair to his.

If Trump is serious about pummeling the press, he’ll stop attacking institutions and start attacking individuals, starting with me. My Twitter handle is @WindsorMann, by the way.

Trump’s contempt for the press is second only to his distaste for Mexican rapists. When he refers to reporters, it’s usually prefaced with the word “disgusting.” The media, in his view, are “terrible people,” “a terrible group of people,” “horrible people,” “horrible human beings,” “liars,” “the most dishonest people in the world,” and “the worst.”

“Some of the media is among the worst people I’ve ever met,” he ungrammatically said last year. “And I mean a pretty good percentage is really a terrible group of people.”

A couple of weeks later, he got more specific about those percentages, telling a crowd in Virginia, “You have, I’d say, 10 to 15 to 20 percent who are truly bad people.”

I like to think of myself as a one-percenter.

“They say terrible things about me,” Trump complained to Chris Wallace.

I say terrible things about Trump all the time. I also write them. Many of my published canings have been in USA Today, the nation’s largest daily newspaper. Must I also be employed there to attract his notice? I’m sorry, but that’s asking too much. Doesn’t he know how sluggish the economy is?

In response to a mean-spirited article I wrote about Hillary Clinton last year, Lanny Davis called me “irrelevant.” Won’t you, Mr. Trump, do the same—or worse?

I’m not asking for press credentials. All I want is acknowledgment of the nasty, vicious and unfair things I’ve written about you. All I want is a tweet disparaging me by name. “@WindsorMann loser!” will suffice. There, I even wrote it for you. All you have to do is copy and paste.

You have nothing to worry about. Millions of people will rush to your defense and put me in my place, which is in the shower where I can cry in solitude. Or at one of your rallies, where your supporters will beat me up. But I would need a press credential or a ticket to go to one of your rallies, and I’m not asking for that.

As millions upon millions of Americans, not all of them white supremacists, come to your defense, no one—and I mean no one—will come to mine. This I assure you. What’s there to lose, besides a few seconds of your time?

I realize you have a lot of critics, and you can’t possibly attack them all. That’s why I’m asking you to attack only one: me. Call me masochistic if you want. Just be sure to call me by my name when you do.