When the rest of them get here, I figure to have coffee on. He sets store by fresh black coffee.”
–Louis L’Amour (Lando)
That’s sure enough the truth, Pard. Here we are again, Saturday mornin’, sittin’ at the table, drinkin’ some of that hot, black elixir. Ahhh, if that doesn’t make the gizzard shout for joy, I don’t know what will.
I’ve been doin’ some ponderin’; yeah, I know that’s dangerous for this ol’ fence post, but after what Ira wrote yesterday ’bout them pesky chiggers I was wonderin’ if some folk out there aren’t chiggers in human form. They’re the kind that really drive you crazy; makes yuh itch all over, and sometimes yuh get to wonderin’ if yur insides ain’t itchin’ as well. Here’s what I’m talkin’ about. There’s a sanctuary city where the mayor is suing the President because too many illegals are comin’ to find sanctuary in their city. Now if that don’t cause yuh to be scratchin’ at yur head, I don’t know what will. Why to look, must less hear some of those folk (that mouth from California especially) make me itch all over–yep, shore ‘nough, they must be human chiggers. The difference is that you can see these folk.
The ol’ steel mount is packed an’ ready to go. We’ve got to hit the trail for a couple of days. Granddaughter has a job over in the Hill Country an’ we’re takin’ her. Don’t yuh be frettin’ none, gun’s oiled and ready, coffee and fixin’s are packed, Bible is in the pocket, and I have the missus ridin’ shotgun to help me along the way so the hostiles don’t gang up on us. What’s that? Did I check my cinch? Pard, what kind of question is that?