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An Interview With Julian Massage, Founder of Diki-Leaks
I sat down with Julian Massage in an undisclosed location to ask about his most recent target for exposure: medical records.
“Mr. Massage, may I call you Julian?” I asked.
“No, you may not. That’s much too personal. I hardly know you.” He hiked the knee of his slacks and crossed his leg.
“Fine, then. Mr. Massage, tell us a bit about Diki-Leaks,” I said.
“Well, it’s more than just a clever name,” he began. “It’s also a condition, and I have it. So that explains my newest endeavor to hack all private medical records, especially those of urologists. Not only do I have a deep interest in the subject, I feel it’s time we let the public in on what goes on behind closed doors.”
“I see. So you don’t feel like you are violating any privacy here at all?” I asked.
“Of course it’s a violation, but I don’t care. I didn’t care when I leaked sensitive government documents and I don’t care about exposing bank secrets. So, why would I care about this? See, the medical records leak, well, it’s closer to my heart, more personal actually. Keep in mind the name of my company.”
“There will be a huge outcry when you make private medical records public,” I reminded him. “Millions of people will be angry with you.”
“That’s why I’m in hiding,” he responded with a toss of his head. “It’s the price I pay for being a yellow journalist. I wear that badge with pride, though.”
“How do you plan to disseminate the leaked information?”
“I have my ways,” he said with a crafty smile. “I’ll probably do it in spurts at first, a trickle here, a trickle there. But, soon it will be flowing in a steady stream.”
“Would you say you are incontinent when it comes to secret data?” I asked him.
“That’s one way of putting it,” he agreed, giving me a puzzled look.
“So, have you read the book, Yellow Rain by I.P. Freely?” I asked him.
He shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so.”
“How about Yellow River by I.P. Daily?”
I could see by the look on his face he finally got it. Not the quickest brain in the world.
“That’s not funny,” he told me, rather huffy now. “I don’t think you are taking this seriously at all. I only agreed to this interview because I wanted an objective report of my activities.”
“I am 100% objective. But, this isn’t about me; it’s about you. Let’s get back to the interview, shall we?”
“I suppose.” He was standing now; his waif-like form a silhouette against the bright glare of the motel windows. “I don’t want people to misinterpret what I am doing. I am fighting a global cause here, like a noble crusader of truth and justice.”
“Do you wear a cape?”
“What kind of question is that?” He turned to frown at me, his pixie face screwed into an expression of disgust.
“How does that work with the ladies?” I asked him. “A cape do you any good?”
“What?” He seemed outraged. “I’m not here to discuss my sex life with you!”
I nodded sympathetically. “Don’t have one, do you? Tough break, buddy.”
“I don’t think you’re a reporter at all!” Julian screeched.
“Got me there!” I smiled broadly. “I am actually Dick Speed, Interior Decorator Extraordinaire, and undisputed love king of the design world.”
“What are you doing here?” His voice takes on a high-pitched tone.
“I’m here to plan a new décor for this room. I was
surprised to find you here, but I just figured I’d jump on the chance to interview
you since fate threw us together.” I grinned and threw him a wink.
“I’ve been speaking with an interior decorator?” He was
aghast. "I don't believe it!"
“Would you like to see my manly clipboard?” I offered.
The interview terminated at this point.
Filed by Dick Speed | Spontaneous Interview | Dec. 2010