He and his friends were enjoying cups of strong, after-supper coffee. After the treacherous river crossing, they were all bone tired, but no self-respecting cowboy would think of going to sleep without his coffee.”
–John Deacon (The Provider 2)
“One more river to cross, one more mountain to climb, one more valley that I gotta go through…” Come on, Pard, I know yuh don’t care much for my singin’, but join in an’ we’ll make the rafters shake. Rivers, streams, creeks, brooks, yuh name them, an’ somewhere’s in our life an’ journey we’ve had to cross them. Some were easy fordin’, some were sorta treacherous, but here we are Pard, on the other side of another river, headin’ onward an’ upward. Oh, sure, plenty of coffee an’ I made sure it didn’t get wet in the crossin’.
Pard, the older I get, the more I see an’ read, the more I see the foolishness in people. Yuh may have heard this one. I got it from that ol’ cowpoke, Chad Prather, but it seems that someone (I think in Canada) complained about a boy who brought pork in their sandwich. My mercy, the audacity. The young feller was told not to bring it again because it might offend someone, and I reckon it did. I would be ready to send bacon, and ham, and pulled pork, along with a hot dog, and if’n I really wanted to get them, I might send a pork chop for the kid go gnaw on. When is enough, enough? I offend them by sendin’ a bacon sandwich, but what happens if they do something that offends me? My, that’s a whole different story.
Take a swaller, an’ I’ll refill yur cup. Good thing I made it strong ’cause yul need it for this next little tidbit. This came from the UK (that the Brits, if’n yuh didn’t know). Straight from a police officer (think they’re called bobbies, but this one was a bobette), “You’re not allowed to sing church songs outside of church.” ??? Duh, did yuh get that? Yuh can whistle a tune, or rap a filthy song, but don’t dare sing “How Great Thou Art” outside the church. Oh, John Wesley might be turnin’ over in his grave (if he was in it) at that news. People used to go on a street an’ could point out the homes where the Methodists lived by their joyful singin’. Pard, when is enough, enough?
We may not realize it, but those are creeks that we have to cross. An’ I won’t go into the stupidity and lackness of the judges in our land. They hand out sentences based on the political agenda. Why one went so far as to say she gave a light sentence stating her job is to “rehabilitate” not punish. No! A judge’s job is not to rehabilitate; it is their job to enforce the law, punish the criminal, and make the streets safe for innocent people. (Thanks Angel) It is the job of others in the system to try to rehabilitate. See, Pard, there’s a day a-comin’ when people are goin’ to be sayin’ that to God. Rehabilitate me, don’t judge me. Now, is the time for rehabilitation an’ all one has to do is accept Jesus.
See what I mean, we needed strong coffee this mornin’. Lord, help us through the jungles filled with fools. Like I keep a-tellin’ yuh, oil yur gun an’ keep it handy, stay in the Bible, ride tall an’ onward, an’ always, always check yur cinch. Be sure yur mounted firmly!
Vaya con Dios.