Coffee Percs

We sat there, drank some coffee, and counted our blessings.”
              –D.C. Adkisson (Mal de Ojo)

Come on in Pard, the coffee’s on the stove waitin’ for yuh.  Do yuh remember ol’ Stiff-Lipped Lou and Skinny Thompson?  They came by last week with mopey looks on the faces.  There was always was something fearful ’bout Skinny.  I was concerned that he’d fall through a hole in the seat of his pants and choke himself to death, but guess he checks his britches regularly.
    Go ahead an’ take a sip while I continue.  They were goin’ on ’bout the fact that taxes are goin’ up, that the price of groceries are goin’ up, that gas is goin’ up.  I listened to their moanin’ noddin’ my head now and again.  Lots of things are changin’, why them power-hungry bureaucrats are wantin’ a vaccine passort.  Talk about anti-American.  Imagine what our forefathers would have thought about that.  Yuh cayn’t travel from place to place without yur shot passport.  I don’t like the idea of the bureaucrats tryin’ to manipulate us.
    Pard, let me refill yur cup.  I then went on to remind them that they are not in the dark like those disciples of Jesus on that dark Saturday after the cross.  Imagine them, fearful, lackin’ in faith, sittin’ in a little room.  They probably looked at each other, questions in their eyes, with hope lost.  Here we are, knowin’ the story and ol’ Lou and Skinny were fearful ’bout the future.  Hope is alive, I told them, have faith that the Lord will take care of their needs.
    Well, enough bein’ said.  That Good Friday, which the disciples might at that time called “Dark Friday” finished the purpose of our Lord comin’ to earth.  Pard, things were dark then, but I told them Sunday’s comin’.  Things might be dark in their lives now, but yuh know, there’s a bright tomorrow waitin’ for us.
    Pard, yuh best be gettin’ out an’ buyin’ yur sweetie an Easter lily.  Don’t get yurself in such a hurry that yuh forget to check yur cinch though.
     Vaya con Dios.

Coffee Percs

If you come a-visiting, the coffee’s always on.  If you come hunting trouble, why I reckon we can stir you up a mess of that.”
              –Louis L’Amour (We Shaped the Land With Our Guns)

Welcome, Pard, just poured the cup for yuh, as I saw yuh comin’ up.  Boy, have I got a few things to spew this mornin’ but first let’s indulge some of that tasty brew I made.
    From what I’m a-hearin’ the new high bureaucrat, Biden by name said he is ready to send unwarranted officers into yur house for yur guns.  Now, ain’t that somethin’?!  They let the idiots burn cities–Antifa, BLM–but now they want the guns of legal, law-abiding citizens.  They want to defund the police, but he wants to send the police into yur house.  I understand the atrocities of recent weeks, especially in my hometown of Boulder, but the problem is not the gun.  The problem is not even the person holdin’ the gun.  The problem is sin, but now they want to put a muzzle on those who preach against sin.  Pard, it’s just a circle of idiocies.
    I could go on longer, but I know the bile will start to churn in yur liver and soon yur gizzard will be upset and yu’ll be no good the rest of the day.  Take another deep swaller, an’ I’ll say only one more thing.  This feller has been in office two months an’ there is already more stupidity seen comin’ out of his mouth and the mouths of other bureaucrats.  
    Good thing the coffee tastes good, for what’s on the horizon is sure foggy.  Notice the price of groceries lately, and the price of gas?  Time for me to stop.  For all this jawin’ ain’t goin’ to do a bit of good.  We’re all goin’ to pay the price an’ I’m not just talkin’ ’bout money.
    We need to enter the rest of the Lord.  That is where we need to be in troublesome times.  It’s kinda like sittin’ in the saddle knowin’ yuh checked yur cinch and can rest easy in the saddle.
      Vaya con Dios. 

Coffee Percs

He put a coffee kettle near the flames and waited for it to boil.  He enjoyed the smell of campfire smoke, and of the coffee coming to life in the kettle.”  
              –Brad Denison (Wandering Man)

Mornin’, Pard, come on in.  Say, what happened to yur head?  Tsk, tsk, I told yuh to be checkin’ yur cinch.  What’s that?  Yur hoss is racist?  Where in the world did yuh come up with that notion?  It’s an appaloosa, ha, I guess it’s mixed, and to go a step further it’s a geldin’ so it’s gender neutral.  
    Who told yuh that yur hoss was racist?  Oh, anythin’ that goes wrong is the excuse to give.  My mercy, has this world gone crazy or what?  I get yuh Pard, and if yuh don’t like somethin’ yuh just whimper, “I’m offended” and it will be all right.  Well, maybe it’s time for some to get offended with the offended and tan their hides.  What’s that?  Oh, it’s not woke to spank, someone; their self-esteem might get hurt.  I tell yuh what, somethin’ need to be hurtin’.  
    I seem to recall or read somewhere last week, “Do not negotiate with crazy.”  Pard, there’s more to it than that; yuh can’t negotiate with crazy!  Someone told me that a fool was someone who makes silly or stupid mistakes.  They’re just plain goofy.  Oh, my, I shouldn’t have said that, next thing yuh know they’ll remove Goofy along with the others.  Ha, it’s kinda funny in a way–the looney tunes upset the looney tunes.
    Fools despise wisdom and instruction, and add to that they hate knowledge.  Confront a fool with knowledge and he’ll hiss at you, or spit in yur face, or cry like a baby that they’re offended.  Say did yuh know that a “fool” is talked about 78 times in the book of Proverbs (NKJV) and 83 times (NASB).  What’s really sad, it’s those bureaucratic fools that’s makin’ a wreck of this country.
    Whew, let me ease up, drink some coffee.  Don’t mean to get riled, Pard, but sometimes, well, just sometimes.  Not goin’ to let a bunch of fools make me disgruntled.  Yuh, haven’t been ’round durin’ the week, but do yuh know I sometimes have to make three pots or more of coffee.  Not that I mind, but I shore am kept busy keepin’ the pot goin’.  At least I can sit back and talk with folk that know how the cow eats the cabbage, an’ not a bunch of fools.  
    Yuh best be careful who yuh listen to.  Don’t get caught up in all the clabber of fools.  And for goodness sake, don’t be blamin’ yur hoss when yuh forget to check yur cinch.
               Vaya con Dios.

Coffee Percs

We dragged ourselves to the fire, grabbed up tin cups and drank down several cups of steaming coffee.”
              –Richard P. Hobson, Jr.  (Nothing Too Good for a Cowboy)

Hope yur not draggin’ Pard.  Seems somethin’s ailin’ yuh.  Sit yurself down, the coffee’s ready, and I’ll get yuh a cup poured.  It’ll help yur ailin’ soul an’ give hustle to yur bustle.  Ahhh, not bad, not bad at’ll.
    Don’t yuh be tellin’ me that the bureaucrats are givin’ yuh fits.  Yuh know they’re liars.  Anything to fill their never-empty pockets.  Most of them care little for us common folk unless it’s election time.  Why I’ve heard of those homeless derelicts on the street be given a cheap bottle of wine and ten dollars to vote for a certain individual.  Yep, they really helped that poor ol’ boy.
    Say, yuh know all that money we pour into insurance?  I’m gonna get some of it back.  Yep, hopefully work will get started and me an’ the missus we’ll be able to move back in fairly soon.  I miss watchin’ the sun come up of a mornin’.  ‘Course, it’s been a spell since yuh’ve gotten up that early.  Hmmm, maybe that’s why yur draggin’ in this mornin’.  We’ll wait an’ see just how much my insurance goes up next year.  Those ol’ boys are near as bad as the bureaucrats; they make sure they get their money.
    Let me fill that cup for yuh.  Listen, Pard, I learned a long time ago not to be expectin’ too much from those politikcians an’ other forms of bureaucratic vermin.  If I get something, I say “thank the Lord,” for He has to work through those hearts of stone.  If’n I don’t get nothin’, I won’t be disappointed.  I’ve always tried to keep my hands in those of the Master.  The Lord knows just what I need, an’ when I need it.  Hmmm, maybe that’s why my hair is still brown though my eyes have turned a paler blue from washing my face over the years.
    So, it’s time to head out.  Why, Pard, yuh left a swaller in yur cup.  My mercy, next yu’ll be forgettin’ to check yur cinch.