Bartleby, The Schriever

An Identical to Dickson city Attorney Tomathy V. Potter?

As per my usual, I assigned to the first lethargic and unoccupied warm body I could find a simple task: Write for ten minutes Monday. Ten minutes on Wednesday. And Ten minutes of Friday. Discourse: History. Topic: Describe the Private Burgee that FDR used on his Presidential Yacht when crossing the Atlantic en route to Yalta to meet Winnie and Comrade #1 Joe Stalin.

Simple. It’s 2024. The subject is perhaps the most written about President other than Washington in American History. The event is one of monumental historical importance: Join Forces to Defeat National Socialism and Genocide on the European Continent. There is perhaps too much already written on the men, the event, the war.

All I needed was a simple description of the flag on the president’s boat. Literally an object that was flown so that everyone could see it. Not a top secret war plan. Not a PDB. A flag. On a boat. On an Ocean and In a Public Port during an event the world is still talking about. 30 Minutes seemed like I was giving him too much time to complete the assignment. Too much time for the inquiring mind to wonder away from the task at hand.

Wow… I was dead wrong. It turns out, perhaps, that our City Attorney of this fair city may, in fact, be feigning his credentials as a historian. And if so, that will be my mistake. He is such a competent barrister, perhaps even selling himself short as a lowly city attorney. He seems meticulous in his business affairs. When I would serve he and his family after church on Sundays at Off the Rails, he was so articulate. Not arrogant. Not show-offy. No two dollar words when a pause would do. I assumed his Credentials as a Historian would be the same or similar.

Alas, I may be wrong. His lack of response or follow up inquiry, or even a bless off! May suggest that the task was beyond his skillset… or even worse… demonstrative of his resemblance to a man I have met before… in an old book somewhere. A Schrivner to a City Barrister. Bartlby, I think his name was. An insufferable, poorly hydrated, lowly man who always upon being requested to perform a simple task using the English language say, “I’d rather not.”

Perhaps Tomathy V Potter, ESQ would too rather not. A shame. For we are the beneficiaries of suffering for the rather-notness…

It is with deepest regrets that I must inform you that I will not be delivering for your enjoyment a description of FDR’s Yacht Burgee… the one he used when traveling the high mighty Atlantic toward The European coast… and then on to Yalta to save the world. I know how you want to hear it described just once more before moving on… You’ll forgive me if I indulge a brief haiku a about another, more-known Jack: 13 Stripes Red and White. Quadrant 2 a Bonnie Blue. a half Century of Bright white Stars completing the top sail. Staff always fixed to the star side of the flag. So ever when the winds of change do blow, there will we will be… headlong into our Great Republic. The bosom of Modern Humanity… Man’s finest experiment.

Bow your Heads,

Lord of Host Grant Us one more hour to complete our tasks before the Kings of Kings, Lord of Lords follows the Storm Clouds from Heaven to bring us War and Judgement. Let us beseech our enemies as they were pilgrims among us, Guests beside strange tent by firelight. Let the Golden Beams of the tabernacle hold steadfast and solid. And when it is our time to have the privilege, let us not hesitate to become the stepping stones at the foot of Megiddo upon which our ranks and files climb to exact revenge on our enemies. Let us scorch their lands, their women, their children with extreme prejudice. And let our women sweep those ashes into the sea. Aloluia, Elohim, Aloha, Ahha, ALlah… ohm ohm ohm…

AHhhhhhhhhh Meeeeeen