Hi, and welcome to The Loser Files - a new feature we will be updating when we feel like it, especially when some fucktard runs off at the mouth and impresses us with his incredible lack of intelligence or “Loserness” and we just can’t help but share it with the world.

Please keep in mind that Losers, while generally male, are actually a genderless class of idiots, so they can be male or female.

We are pleased to introduce you to the first asshat in question, Barry Randolph Bozarth. This dipshit decided to launch a completely unprovoked attack on one of our lovely ladies. His excuse? “I am testing my mail settings and thought I would use a random phone whore as a guinea pig.”

Well, that’s what ya get for thinking, Loser. Did your parents have any kids that lived?

Exhibit A is Barry Randolph Bozarth’s email to our beautiful, sweet, innocent Phone Sex Operator (PSO), Ashley. Most people don’t know this, but Ashley was a nun in a prior life. A bride of Jesus. And when Jesus divorced her for his secretary and left Ashley and the kids on the street, homeless and penniless … oh wait. That might have been my sister and her ex-husband.

Anyway …

Ashley is a Phone Sex Operator. Most people realize that Phone Sex Operators could not exist without men. It’s the law of supply and demand and it applies to any business. Being a PSO just means one has a long list of specific talents, first and foremost of which is a strong work ethic, and one has discovered how to use those talents to make money in a niche market. Why should anyone be punished for that? And be so pathetically attacked as she was?

Here is the chain of emails from this brainless twat, Barry Randolph Bozarth (remember, this was all unsolicited and unprovoked):

—————————- Original Message —————————-

Subject: No phone call
From:    “Barry” <hatethegoddess-some@yahoo.com>
Date:    Sat, November 22, 2008 11:08 pm
To:      Ashley@AngelCommunications.net
————————————————————————–

I am not writing because I want a phone call with you. I am just testing my mail settings, and thought I would use a random phone sex whore as a guinea pig. I don’t really give a damn if it bothers you. You are a pig.

All phone sex whores are capitalist pigs who have found a way to use something they have to make easy money. It’s the American Dream to be a capitalist pig. A woman has got to make men feel small to make herself feel bigger. Crush, kill, destroy… Why don’t you get a real job?

————————————————————————–

—————————- Original Message —————————-

From: “admin@angelcommunications.net” <admin@angelcommunications.net>
To: Barry <hatethegoddess-some@yahoo.com>
Sent: Sunday, November 23, 2008 4:09:47 AM
Subject: Re: No phone call

Thank you for taking the time to write such a ridiculous email message.
We will be forwarding your note along with your ip address to Yahoo’s abuse department.

Have a wonderful day.
————————————————————————–

—————————- Original Message —————————-
Subject: Re: No phone call
From:    “Barry” <hatethegoddess-some@yahoo.com>
Date:    Sun, November 23, 2008 7:36 am
To:      admin@angelcommunications.net
————————————————————————–

Are you telling me that Yahoo! gives a damn about your sorry asses? I am so damn sorry.

Barry Randolph Bozarth
————————————————————————–

Well, at least old Barry Randolph Bozarth’s got one thing right: he is SORRY. And also, a LOSER. Yes, I said it. Any PSO out there (even the few without college degrees) can read this stupidiot’s initial email and follow-up reply and determine the following:

-  Barry Randolph Bozarth is angry;

-  Barry Randolph Bozarth is frustrated;

-  Barry Randolph Bozarth’s ip address is 66.196.100.220 and he is from New York City, NY;

-  Barry Randolph Bozarth appears to have some connections with the BDSM lifestye, as a male submissive to a Female Dominant;

-  Barry Randolph Bozarth is likely in possession of a itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-peeny (see it here, if you have a magnifying glass);

-  Barry Randolph Bozarth has likely spent enormous sums of money with a female PSO, and is now broke;

-  Then again, Barry Randolph Bozarth has likely spent enormous sums of money with a male PSO, and is now broke (no one is surprised you and your gay name are gay, dudette);

-  Barry Randolph Bozarth has homosexual tendencies and is ashamed not only of his small winky, but also that his ex-Goddess (who won’t speak with him anymore now that he is broke) “forced” him to explore those tendencies for Her satisfaction (yes, he is a fag, there, I said it) and is further ashamed by his intense pleasure at the degrading acts He performed for Her;

-  Barry Randolph Bozarth likely sports some freaky fetishes of his own, not that that’s a bad thing; we love fetishes! We just don’t tolerate fucking hypocrites;

The fact of the matter is this:

I have not met every PSO in the world, but I know or know of quite a few. Over 70% of the ladies I have met in this profession have college degrees, often in Psychology and related fields. Many have Master’s degrees or are pursuing them.

With regard to our clientele at this company, these are the simple facts:

-  99% of our clients are gentleman, considered TOP SHELF, and are always welcome;

-  0% of our clients call us while we are holding a gun to their head;

-  100% of our ladies are TOP SHELF, or they would not have a job here.

So, to Barry Randolph Bozarth, and all of your coal-hearted, small-dicked, evil ilk, I say this:

-  You have obviously fucked yourself out of ever calling your old PSO again, and as today’s Dickhead of the Month winner, you have secured yourself a Lifetime Ban with us; you’ve fucked yourself out of ever calling our company or any of the companies we associate with, ever, because we don’t like your kind;

-  Your teeny-weeny-peeny (read: SMALL COCK) will never get bigger, even with surgery, because you lack the confidence and self-esteem to walk like you have 12″ (real men do that, and it comes to them naturally. Of course, there are some women I know that do it, too … and you can’t call them either);

-  Do the world a favor and go fuck yourself, because no one else wants to - even for money.

My super-hot Pirate Lover called me the other day; I have been dreaming of him for a while now since we’ve been talking off and on for over a year (and when I say “dreaming of” I mean “getting myself off to” *wink*). He is so fucking hot, with the sexiest voice and the best scenarios … I have a weakness for pirates and that’s one of the first scenes we did together a long time ago … and he told me he’s brewing up another one for us too, and I can’t wait! But anyway - back to the last one, which left my little pussy soaking wet and quivering, and aching for more - we were vacationing on an island in the Caribbean and I was wearing my skimpy little red bikini when we were kidnapped and tied up in a hidden cave by a bunch of big, black island dudes.

The bandits tied our hands above our heads and circled around us. We told them we’d give them anything they wanted - money, jewelry, etc. - and we would leave the island and not tell anyone if they would just let us go. The leader said we might be doing that anyway, and asked me what I had to offer him and his crew to make it worth their while. Then he leaned in and started nibbling on me and he whispered that he would kill my Pirate Lover if I didn’t give him something good.

My eyes connected with my Pirate Lover as I whispered to the bandit leader that I would do anything - A N Y TH I N G - if he would promise to let us leave alive. He started to play with my nipples and they got hard in spite of my fear. My Pirate Lover watched in horror as the bandit leader violated me, but it wouldn’t be long before his horror turned to blatant fascination and then arousal.

The bandit leader cut my bikini top off of me and started roughly manhandling my magnificent tits. Then he cut off my bikini bottoms and his crew of brigands started to circle me like a pack of wolves, getting closer and closer with every turn. I kept my eyes on my Pirate Lover as the wild band of hooligans started to grope me and molest my naked body, probing me with their fingers, removing their huge, stiff cocks and stroking them as they sniffed me and tasted my fear-soaked flesh. None of their stiff pricks was shorter than 10″. My Pirate Lover could only watch as they lined up to fuck every hole I have - one in front of me to fuck my pussy; one in back to stretch out my tight pink rosebud; and one standing on a rock even with my face so he could force me to suck the creamy cum out of his joint; and then, there were the guys lined up behind them, too …

… We were there for hours as the hijackers tortured my slick little pussy and tight cinnamon ring and wet mouth with their massive crotch cobras. My Pirate Lover was tied up so tightly he could not move to help me, and I signaled to him repeatedly not to fight so we could get out alive. I knew the bandit leader would keep his word if I let him and his friends I stood before him in shame, covered in cum, my cunt and asshole dripping with it, my hair and face and tits covered in it. The bandit leader attached electrodes to my pussy lips and enjoyed watching me twitch and jerk to the current running through my body. That’s when he slipped behind me and fucked me with his enormous 14″ elephantine fuck-stick. He fucked me so hard my feet came off the ground, and as he stood behind me, he grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his waist like I was a wheelbarrow.

Finally, the gangster thug cut the ropes that bound my hands above me and let me fall to the dirt floor, exhausted. He threatened to come back and kill us before we could leave the island if we didn’t keep our mouths shut, and I knew he would do it if I forced his hand. He threw his knife at my feet and laughed, then stalked off into the dusky evening. I took the knife in my teeth and dragged my cum-covered body over to my Pirate Lover and cut him loose, then curled up at his feet and begged him to forgive me for my whorish, slutty ways.