I don’t know if it was the aroma from the coffee boiling or the bacon frying that woke me up the next morning.”
–D.C. Adkisson (Trouble at Gregory Gulch)
“Well, won’t it be wonderful there, having no burden or care…” Jump in Pard, there’s plenty of room. What’s that, yuh don’t want to hurt yurself? Can’t clog in the kitchen no more, huh? Jist a little shuffle in the hallway, is that it? Tell yuh what, you shuffle, I’ll clog a bit, and we’ll let it loose. Guess not, yur right, something could come loose, git out of joint, or swell up. That’s what happens when yuh start on the downward side of years, the ol’ starter gets harder to start. Ha, these yunguns have no idea of a starter. Why I drove an ol’ ’52 Ford pickup…uh, that’s another story, but when the starter worked it was down by the gas pedal. Most of the time I had to park that truck on a hill and let it roll to get it started–had to clutch it.
Pard, taste that there coffee. The missus said to try it as it was cheap. I’m sometimes wary of “cheap,” but even more so of expensive, sophisticated coffee. What’dya think?
Go ahead, work on that first cup, I want to say something I read this past week regardin’ that ol’ AI stuff again. I was readin’ an’ several preachers said that AI would enhance a body’s sermon. How ’bout that? What ever happened to SI? No, not Sports Illustrated…Supernatural Intelligence. I thought the Holy Spirit would enhance, guide in all truth. The job of the preacher was to be led by the Spirit after he had studied and prayed for the sermon he was to deliver. Pard, sometimes I jist don’t know; it’s my a-thinkin’ that we’ve plenty of artificial intelligence walking around in this country, and they ain’t all locked up.
Truth or fake news? Let me take a swaller first. But I’ve heard, and read, and no one seems to know. Are there a group of Haitians eatin’ the neighborhood cats and dogs? One group says yes, another group says its a lie. One side has to be lyin’. Now, I’ve known of homeless folk, those that are really down an’ out, eatin’ rabbits an’ squirrels an’ ducks from city parks. Read that in the newspaper years ago, so it must be truth. Boy howdy, a person would have to be evil an’ low-down to eat a little kid’s pet. Might need them a good ol’ fashion stompin’. Sorry for my ire. Guess the good Lord will be lookin’ down an’ takin’ note. An’ don’t yuh be a-tellin’ me they can’t afford food, why most of them have a top-notch phone an’ make more money than us retired folks. Good ol’ government will give them a feed…
Let’s go back…”joyously singin’ with heart-bells all ringin’…” Still don’t want to sing, huh? Well, the pot’s done empty, an’ my gizzard is wound up at thinkin’ ’bout what’s goin’ on in this country. Good thing the Lord is watchin’ over us and walkin’ with us. Yuh be takin’ care of yur own self and family. Read from the Good Book, straighten yur shoulders when yuh ride for yur ridin’ for the King, keep yur gun oiled an’ ready. Yuh jist never know what might be a-comin’ at yuh. An’ for mercy’s sake, check yur cinch, yuh can’t be guardin’ nobody if’n yuh fall on yur noggin’.
Vaya con Dios,
Ira
(Note, “Won’t It Be Wonderful There” is beyond the required note for copyright. But it was written in 1930 by James Rowe. He was a prolific writer with more than 9,000 hymns, poems, recitations, and other works. —Hymnary.org)