Famous Authors Script Bob Mueller’s Indictments
Serving Subpoenas by the Book, Fired by the Literary Canon
Jane Austen, Lies and Pre-Judicious
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a scheming man in possession of a great fortune acquired by odious means, must be in want of a subpoena.
And so it was on that fateful afternoon, that the gentle born but staunch and stalwart of heart, that majestic Mister Mueller, did arrive upon the doorstep bearing with him an officious and detailed indictment.
Herman Melville, Toady Dick or The Great White Fail
Call me, if bail. Some years ago — never mind how long precisely — having little or no money in your military pension purse, and nothing particular to interest you on American shores, seems you thought to flail about a little and see the Russian parts of the world. This was a Great White Fail.
James Joyce, Flynnegan’s Mistake
Mrkgnao, Tis only I, stately, plump Bob Mueller, come from the stairhead, bearing an ineluctable indictment on which a mirror reflecting crimes committed and most foul deeds diseased which Flynnegan’s Break with American decency conniverrun past, from swerve of patriotism to bend of knee to hostile foreign government’s foul, brings us to this commodius vicus.
Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitary
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, General Michael Flynn was to remember that distant afternoon when his Russian patriarch took him to discover vice.
Kurt Vonnegut, Sought the Louse, Deprive
All this happened, more or less, so I serve you these papers… and so it goes to court. If this isn’t vice, I don’t know what is, babies.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Patsy
They fell quickly into an aggressive conspiracy from which they never recovered.
Mueller realized that his count of enchanted investigations had been diminished by one.
So we bleat on, notes against the collusion, borne back ceaselessly into the vast seas of conspiracy. There are no second acts in American lies.
J. D. Salinger, The Catcher of the Spies
Collusion. There’s a word I really hate. It’s so phony I could puke every time I hear it. What I’d really like to be is the catcher of the spy. That’s all I’d do, is catch the spies. Phoebe would get a real kick out of this. She loved the Constitution like nobody’s business. She’s a real gas that way.
Charles Dickens, A Tale of Due Pities
It was the test of crimes, it was the worst of crimes, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of incredulity at treason, it was the season of democracy dying in darkness, it was the winter of despair for decency — in short, the period was so far like the Watergate period, that some of its noblest authorities insisted on this subpoena being received in the superlative degree.
George R.R. Martin, A Shame of Cronies
“I am he who swings heavy the sword of justice,” Sir Mueller of the House of Special Prosecution, said as he advanced upon the door, subpoena and sword held aloft.
Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis Trial
As Special Prosecutor Mueller awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed into an agent serving indictments onto numerous enormous insects who had stung the very soul of Democracy.
Ernest Hemingway, The Scum Also Rises
Jared Kushner was once middleweight outfoxing champion of Harvard. Do not think that I am very much impressed by that as a title, but it meant a lot to Kush.
I served him the papers. His face was yellow and he was scared. I did not like to look at him.
“How did you go morally bankrupt,” I asked him.
“Two ways,” he said, “first gradually. Then suddenly.”
I could smell the fear.
“I’ll give you money to make this go away. Like the other things,” he said.
“Isn’t it petty to think so.”
Edgar Allan Poe, The Craven
Once upon a midnight dreary, after I’d investigated, the Greek so dreary,
Over many tainted and curious gore that the GOP continued to ignore—
Nevertheless I plodded up to another Trump minion’s treasonous door,
So much treason and collusion it had become a frightful boor.
Nevertheless, more subpoenas I did deliver, serving these and many more.
Strongly rapping, rapping, tapping at their chamber doors.
Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Prisons You’ll Know!
And up he walked, subpoena in hand,
He‘d snared another to take the stand.
Would this one squeal, would this one flip?
He marched him to jail, lickety-splip.
He might cut a plea, he might make a deal,
He might put a smear on the President’s seal.
Charges were filed, written bold in the brief,
The next one to fall might be Commander-in-Chief!
Collusion is costly — clapping is FREE!
Why not clap along if you’d liked to throw the book at colluders?
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