THE MAKERIGHTER Saturday, Mar 29 2008 

                In a world where trivial news reports like an effort by law-keepers and authorities to make the merciless rape and murder of a 15-year-old girl appear like a drug-induced drowning accident, or a woman, accused of being a witch, tied to a tree beaten to a pulp by a group of villagers, or kids committing suicide out of stress and depression mar the television viewing of common people who, after an invigorating day of meaningless work in front of a computer screen, are sitting with a bowl of popcorn eagerly waiting to see which celebrity is going out with who, or what new ridiculously expensive gadget is out in the market that only rich people can afford, or the contestants of reality shows begging and pleading, like a gay, crippled Jew on his way to the extermination chamber, to vote for them and keep them on the show, or the latest steaming cauldron of bollocks and shit that’s promoted as “a different, entertaining, funny movie”, there’s just one man who genuinely cares for the interests of the common people; in a world where uneducated, illiterate hobos with no money are nothing more than eyesores there’s just one man who stands tall and vows to make things change; in a world where some find it wrong that young girls who’re in their early teens are lured into “the entertainment industry” and sexualized prematurely, there’s just one man who stands up and does the right thing; in a world where so many things are wrong, there’s just one man who’s prepared to make them right. He is THE MAKERIGHTER!
Following is an interview with The Makerighter (TM) conducted by a young Citizen Journalist named Vatty Regina (RV).

RV: Firstly, Mr. Makerighter, I would like to thank you for agreeing to do this interview.
TM: That’s quite alright, Ms. Vatty Regina. I’m only pleased to be given the opportunity to voice my opinions.
RV: Let’s get straight to some of the biggest problems that people all across the world are facing. And then you can tell the world how you plan to make them right.
TM: I think I know what you’re going to start with. It’s the same in all interviews. So here you go: the solution is gently insert a very thin needle, bait it, and then pull it out.
RV: Oh, is that some kind of sewing tip?
TM: No, that’s the solution to getting out a tapeworm that has crawled up your piss-hole.
RV (shocked): Is that a common problem that people request a solution for?
TM: Yes. That and mysterious bunny semen found on pillow covers. Which is not a big problem as it can be easily washed off with a mug of boiled bear shit.
RV (unsettled): Good to know. Anyway, that’s not the question I intended to start the interview with. I wanted to bring your attention to a recent incident where a woman in Bihar, in India, was tied to a tree, subjected to having her hair cut off, and then paraded through a village all because the villagers believed that she was a witch. Mr. Makerighter, how would you make sure that terrifyingly appalling incidents like this don’t happen again?

TM: I agree with you, it is appalling. This is yet another case of what can happen when dangerous and misleading superstitions survive in rural areas. Someone has to educate these villagers about certain facts. Fact number one: there are two kinds of witches- good witches and evil witches.
RV: Huh?
TM: That’s right. Good witches are generally super sexy and give you an erection within ten seconds after seeing them. For e.g. Hermione from Harry Potter or Wendy the Good Little Witch. Evil witches on the other hand are ugly, have considerable facial hair, and smell like giraffe fart. For e.g. The Wicked Witch of the West or Hillary Clinton.
RV: Ok…
TM: Now, clearly, as we saw in the video, the woman who was beaten up is an evil witch. And the villagers are trying to rid her off her powers by tying her to a tree, beating her, and cutting her hair off. That’s where the lack of education comes in. Anyone who has been to a good university knows that the best and only way to disable an evil witch is by burning her nipples with an oxy-acetylene torch and then rubbing phlegm on them. And that’s how I would make it right.
RV (disturbed): That’s…interesting, Mr. Makerighter. Let’s move onto another grave issue troubling humanity: Global Warming. How can we combat the big GW?
TM: As we’re all aware, most of our problems are self-created. And once they get out of hand, like global warming has, it is each person’s responsibility to make amends and do what our previous generations failed to do.
RV (surprised): You’re right.
TM: And that’s why the only way to end global warming is to sodomize Al Gore.
RV: I’m sorry, what?
TM: Sodomize him. You know, get in there through the back door of Gore, pulverize it, leave some remnants, make it wider…
RV: I get the point but how in the world would ass-raping the world’s most potent force against global warming prevent global warming?
TM: I shall explain. Bear with me because I’m about to get a bit scientific. You see, when Al Gore’s rectum is torn apart, and contact is made with his colon, a green colored anti-toxic vapor, called goreboxide, is released through his nostrils. These vapors combine with the atmosphere and gradually begin to repair the damaged ozone layer. Pretty soon, before you know it, you got the glaciers back, you have your SUVs out on the road again, and Elvis comes out of hiding. And that’s how I would make it right.
RV (stunned): I…think we better move on. Do you have any remedies for the growing unrest in Tibet and the friction between the Dalai Lama and China?
TM: You know, Nelson Mandela once said “If people want freedom…
RV (interrupts): Give it to them? They’ll take it no matter what? It’s a sign of growth?
TM (puzzled): No, he said “If people want freedom, all you have to do is get a bloke to ride on a horse bare-naked.” And in this case, it’s the Dalai Lama who has to take up that task.
RV (getting annoyed): So your solution to the Tibet-China face-off is to have…
TM: The Dalai Lama ride bare-naked on a horse, that’s right. And that’s how I would make it right.
RV: I’ll try and pass the message. Why don’t I ask you something about the young people of today? How would you help those youngsters who are bogged down by the pressure and stress of today’s world where they look around and see millionaires and billionaires who’re younger than them? How would you help those youngsters who consider suicide when the stress of daily life becomes too much to handle?
TM: Well, that would completely depend on how they plan to top themselves off.
RV: I don’t follow.
TM (quizzical smile): I can’t help them unless I know what method they are planning to adopt, can I? If a kid is planning to hang himself, I can maybe help him out by getting some rope, maybe kicking the stool away from under his feet. Or, if slitting wrists is their passion, I can help them out by finding a strong vein or even get them really, really sharp stuff. Swallowing blades, meanwhile, requires…
RV (butts in): I think that’s more than enough help to last for sometime. Let’s talk about a longstanding predicament afflicting humanity: poverty. How would you eliminate a formidable affliction like poverty?
TM: I think it’s very important to improve common people’s attitude towards their less fortunate fellow beings. Poor people are not to be pitied or felt sorry for. That’s not the treatment they deserve from their own fellow humans. You have to treat them with utter contempt and pure disgust.
RV (upset): What are you talking about?
TM: Clearly, the world would be a better place without poor people in it. We’re all thinking it. I wouldn’t administer a method as grave as executing people stricken with poverty but I would suggest chopping the poor men’s balls off and severely damaging poor women’s uteruses with a monkey-wrench. They just don’t learn that if you’re poor you’re not supposed to fuck. All they’re supposed to do is wait for death and not reproduce more problems for the rich people of the world, the people we really need. And that’s how I would make it right.
RV (controlling her temper): Ok, Mr. Makerighter, we’ve almost come to the end of this very…intriguing…interview. I have one final problem to pose before you. A recent dreadful incident of a British teenage girl’s rape and murder, that took place in India, curled the skin of the Indian women, and women all over the world, and has once again sparked off a debate on the issue of how men perceive and treat women. The police’s attempt to cover up the rape and murder, in order to safeguard the “Goa is Paradise” myth, added to the issue of chauvinism, patriarchy, and the safety of girls and women convey a chilling message to young girls like me who would like to believe the world has become a more civilized place at least when it comes to gender equality.

TM (looks pained): Frankly speaking, when certain men commit such despicable acts, it fills me with shame as well. In fact, it’s a shame that all men, all over the world, have to share. There are certain things that need to be taught to young boys who are growing up to become the men of tomorrow.
RV (impressed by TM’s concern): I believe you’re absolutely right. They need to be taught that all women deserve respect and…
TM (nonplussed): Respect? What’re you talking about?
RV: What do you mean what am I talking about? What are you talking about? What did you mean when you said there are things the boys of today need to be taught?
TM: I was talking about the perfect way to dispose of a girl’s corpse after raping her thoroughly. That’s something young boys have to be taught and educated about so that when they grow up and start raping, they don’t get caught. It fills me with shame when I see rapists getting caught. One of the biggest reasons for the rising rape-and-murder-rate across the world is the discovery of the bodies of these brutally-raped girls. If the body is not found, it just adds to the missing-person-rate and that’s not that bad.
RV (rising from her seat, completely pissed off): Ok, that’s it, Mr. Makerighter, enough is enough. This is completely inappropriate behavior on your part and I have to say I’m deeply offended by your remarks. Being a strong, self-respecting fifteen-year-old girl myself, I’m totally insulted by your comments.
TM (leers at RV, licks his lips): Oh, you’re only fifteen. You know, you look a lot older when you’re angry and screaming. I like a feisty girl.
RV: That’s it. This interview is over.
(Vatty Regina turns around to leave when suddenly, like a leopard pouncing on a gazelle, Makerighter lunges himself onto Vatty Regina. He pins her down using his strong arms and mounts her. Shaking one hand free, he tears open her skirt, unzips his pants, and commences the rape. After two minutes, he gets off the weeping Regina, pulls his pants up again, and gives an accomplished stretch of his arms. He then takes out a small bag marked “paint thinner” from his pocket and pours it on the helpless Regina’s tattered body. He then produces a matchbox out of his shirt pocket and lights a flame. He steps back, drops the lit match and watches the young body of Regina burn wildly into a pile of ashes. He waits until the fire goes out and then, using a dust-sweeper he takes out of his back pocket, brushes all the ashes into a plate he produces out of his side pocket. With a deep sigh, he lifts his head and pours the ashes into his mouth, guzzling the fleshy, charred remains of Vatty Regina. When every speck of her burned body is inside his stomach, he takes out a small bottle marked “bunny semen” from his shoulder pocket and downs it. He burps.)
TM: And that’s how I would make it right.

                                                   **** **** ****

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Untake my Kidney Thursday, Mar 13 2008 

                I respect nurses. In fact, legend has it that I tit-fucked the nurse who wiped me clean just a few minutes after I was born. Initially, she had tried to inject me with a tranquilizer but after I impaled her with my baby-syringe she was quite hospitable. Sadly, I fucked her jugs so hard that she ended up getting breast cancer and came to be known, amongst friends and family, as the Lady with the Lump.
               Doctors, I don’t care much for. For starters, everyone knows they are actually shape-shifting skunks in human disguises. Secondly, I don’t trust anyone who sticks a finger up your ass and calls it part of “routine checkup”. Thirdly, what’s with the white uniforms? When you’re feeling under the weather and you go to a doctor the least you expect is some cheery colors. Give me some green, some red, some purple! But no, they have to stand there looking like the KKK or Catholic priests. And frankly speaking I would be very uncomfortable standing in front of either with my pants down to my ankles. Another thing that annoys me about doctors is the number of paperweights they have on their little table or desk or whatever they want to call it. They shower their little faggot-ass desks with so many paperweights you’d think a fucking hurricane was going to try and blow the goddamn thing away.
              Then there’s the poking. Oh, the fucking poking. Even if you walk in with a broken nose the doctor makes you lie down on his creepy little bed which you can only get to if you climb a pair of retarded steps. Who makes these steps anyway? It’s just two steps. Did someone walk up to a staircase and nick just a couple of steps while no one was looking? It’s absolutely retarded. And once you bite down your nervousness and lie down on the creepy cot with sheets worse than the ones you would find on a brothel-bed, the doctor lifts your shirt up and starts with the poking. Seriously, has any doctor diagnosed any illness just by poking a patient all over their torso? It’s fucking insane. The doctor jabs his stupid finger into your ribcage and asks you like a crackhead if it hurts. Of course, it hurts you crazy piece of dick, you just poked your goddamn finger into my ribcage!! Does he expect the patient to go: No, doc, it feels good, could you put one more finger into my ribcage and jab harder? After a while, the doctor leaves your ribs alone and moves to your tummy and starts poking at all these really ticklish areas. What does he think you’re there for-a fucking laugh? But you laugh, of course, and end up looking completely mental.
               Another occasion when I find doctors to be total pricks is when you walk in with an illness, say an attack of super-dysentery, and you walk out without one of your vital organs. I don’t know about others but something like that would really mess my day up. And the really annoying part is the excuses they come up with when you find out you’re running on just a single kidney or half a spinal chord. They would say something like: “I didn’t steal it. It probably came down during one of your heavy shitting sessions. Did you check your toilet?” or “It’s possibly the work of a succubus. It’s been medically proven that succubi sometimes tend to steal organs when you’re asleep.” Perhaps, that’s why when the kidney-stealing bastard from India, who did over five hundred illegal kidney operations, fondly called by the media as “Doctor Horror” or “Doctor Kidney” or “Kidney Kingpin” or merely “Doctor Amit Kumar” was finally caught by the police there was such a ruckus to know what he had to say. First and foremost, I think it’s swell that everybody still addresses him as doctor. In spite of stealing over a few hundred kidneys and doing so for the last decade or longer, it’s great we respect his academic qualifications. I’m sure if Osama Bin Laden gets his masters in business administration the media would start referring to him as “wanted Islamic fundamentalist terrorist Osama Bin Laden MBA”.
                But unlike Osama Bin Laden MBA, who’s probably sucking off a grizzly bear inside some smelly cave in the Middle East, the kidney-stealing motherfucker, “Dr. Amit”, is in the safe, slimy, hairy, hands of the CBI. That’s a relief, innit? And judging from the progress they’ve made with some of the other high profile cases like the child-killers from Nithari, it’s safe to assume the kidney case will be cracked wide open at least a few minutes after Jesus’ second coming. I do have a short transcript of an interrogation session that took place between the “alleged” culprit “Dr. Amit” and the CBI. Figure it out for yourself.
(Seated across either side of the table are “Dr. Amit”, the kidney-robbing cunt (KRC), and two grim-looking CBI officials)
CBI#1: State your name and profession.
KRC: Name-Dr. Amit Kumar. Profession- belly dancer.
CBI#1: I’m sorry, what?
KRC: A belly dancer. I’m a qualified belly dancer and I do gigs regularly in front of hammered sheikhs in Dubai.
CBI#2: What about the fact that you’re a doctor who steals kidneys?
KRC: Well, I wouldn’t really call that a profession. It’s…more like a hobby, a passion. You know like gardening, or killing kittens.
CBI#1: Killing kittens? I’ve never heard that before. Massaging crabs, fingering turtles, frenching weasels sure. But killing kittens, that’s a bit peculiar.
KRC: Hobbies are meant to be peculiar. To each their own, eh?
CBI#2: Is that why unlike other doctors who use their skills to relieve patients of their pain you choose to exploit them and make profits for yourself?
KRC: I don’t think it’s fair you’re slagging off other doctors like that. I don’t think they would appreciate you spreading insubstantial rumors about them. As soon as we get our MBBS we all make a pledge to ourselves that we will, in all capacity, for as long as we can and as much as we can, exploit people and make good money out of them.
CBI#1: I thought that pledge was just applicable to the members of the parliament.
CBI#2: How did you lure some of these uneducated poor people into getting on your operating table?
KRC: That was easy. Free liquor and naked pictures of Sonia Gandhi.
CBI#1: You mean they were actually lured by naked pictures of Sonia Gandhi?
KRC: Not exactly. I ran after them with naked pictures of Sonia Gandhi and chased them into the operating room. Easiest thing in the world.
CBI#2: Aren’t you ashamed of deceiving so many innocent people? Do you know what kind of mental trauma a person goes through when he’s duped out of one of his internal organs? Do you know how difficult it is to mend that broken trust in humanity he will foster forever?
KRC: I’m sure it’s nothing a bottle of free booze can’t take care of. I’m a lifesaver not a people-pleaser. It’s not like I killed anyone. Using the kidneys of your so-called innocent victims I saved the lives of hundreds of rich, powerful, and influential people. To be honest, we all know rich people are more useful to society than poor people. So as far as I can see, no harm done. (looks at CBI#1’s crotch). Actually, I don’t just deal in kidneys. Sometimes, poorly-endowed men contact me and ask me get them something bigger. A snip there, a cut here, and voila! You go from Ajay Jadeja to a giant stallion.
CBI#1 (embarrassed): I don’t have a small penis. What the hell are you looking at me for?
KRC: I’m just saying.
CBI#2: Why don’t you leave your mind games for the state police? We’re the CBI. You don’t want to fuck with us.
KRC: You can’t blame me.
CBI#1: I don’t have a small penis, ok?
CBI#2: Enough with the banter. Why don’t you just tell us why you got into this business of kidney trade in the first place? You must have a motive.
KRC: So you want the truth?
CBI#2: That’s right. I want the truth.
CBI#1: I did tell the truth. I don’t have a small penis. Swear to god! Ask my pool-boy…err…my wife…I meant my wife. ..ask my wife.
CBI#2: Oh, for Holmes’s sake, shut the fuck up! Now, Dr. Amit…
KRC: Fine, then you shall have the truth. Have you ever been discriminated against, Mr. CBI#2? I’m sure you haven’t. Have you ever felt ignored even when you know you deserve better? Have you ever experienced the agony caused when fame and recognition go to those less-deserving than you merely because they sound like they’re more important?
CBI#2: Are you saying you had a rough childhood?
KRC: Not at all. I had a great childhood; cricket, video games, the full package. I was talking about the fate of kidneys. Can you even comprehend what the kidneys feel like when other organs are always out there in the news while they just sit there smelling like piss? Look at Valentine’s Day. It’s practically a day for the heart. People treat the heart with so much respect and adoration that you would almost think one wouldn’t be able to live without the heart. Have you ever heard of anyone giving a box of chocolates shaped like a kidney to someone they love? No! Since time immemorial they have been persecuted against by humans and other organs alike.
CBI#2: Ok…
KRC: Or just observe the subliminal discrimination embedded in our language. You hear people compliment each other saying “wow! He’s got brains!” or “he’s got real guts” or “damn nigger! Look at the ass on that fine bitch”. But you don’t ever hear people go “there goes the man with the best damn kidneys in the whole of North India”. Are you following me, Mr. CBI#2? And that’s where I come in. I have fought, and will forever fight, for the right of the kidneys and keep them in the news as much as I can. I will steal from the haves and give it to the have-nots. I will eliminate any kind of class-struggle that might exist within the human body. I’m the anatomical Robin Hood, the nephrological Che Guevara! My message, my battle, my vision cannot ever be curbed!
(The CBI officials look at the kidney-robbing cunt and remain silent for a few moments)
CBI#2: What a load of crock!
KRC: Alright, alright, you want the real truth? Fine, but you better brace yourself for it. All you have to do is come behind me, raise my shirt and look at the big scar across my lower back. Once you see that scar you’ll know everything you need to know about why I did what I did.
(The two CBI officials look at each other, shrug their shoulders and come up behind the kidney-robbing cunt. CBI#1 lifts up the cunt’s shirt as CBI#2 leans down to examine his lower back. Suddenly, with a loud fart, a terribly stinking liquid sprays out of the kidney-robbing cunt’s ass. The CBI officials fall back in shock and clutch at their faces. “Dr. Horror” gets to his feet and smirks at the two fallen officers. Then suddenly he shifts his shape and turns into a large skunk.)
So long, suckers!
(Transcript ends)
                Now, don’t start clutching at your kidneys fearing that the Nephrological Che Guevara is still at large. He was missing for about a week after he escaped from the custody of the CBI. But he’s back in the claws of the law now. A breathless, beaten, knackered Dr. Amit came crawling back to the CBI seeking refuge and apologizing for trying to escape. Apparently, Sreesanth is after him with some kind of a proposition.