Coffee Percs

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

The coffee was hot and strong, tasting mighty good right then.”

                    –D.C. Adkisson  (Walker)
 
Pard, let me look yuh over before I serve yur coffee.  From the looks of it, yur doin’ fine, no lumps on the noggin’, no crabs comin’ from the nose nor warts on it neither.  Yur skin ain’t covered like those hostiles we used to fight.  Overall, yur lookin’ fine.  Here’s yur brew, hot, strong, an’ mighty tasty.  Yuh know, there’s jist some days when it seems to be tastin’ extra special.  ‘Course at my age, every day makes it taste special, ’cause it’s another day to be a-tastin’.
     There’s been lots of talk ’bout them UFOs lately.  Now, they don’t bother me none.  The reason bein’ the Lord is in control of the whole, entire, complete universe!  But I want to know about the UMOs.  Yuh know them two-legged creatures movin’ ’round lookin’ like they got themselves all tie-dyed.  Yuh know, hair’s a many colored facet, with rings or crab claws comin’ from the nostril.  Some with pins, some with safety pins, some with rivets, and huge ol’ washers that we used to put in the garden hose.  Why, I remember the missionaries when they came to church would show pictures of those monstrosities in peoples’ ears and such.  My mercy, Pard, the ones we would send missionaries to preach the gospel to look better than what we see on the streets of America.
     Ahhh, the coffee’s good, makes the soul soothe out some.  Pard, let me be continuin’ my tirade.  Some say that clothes don’t make the person, an’ don’t be a-judgin’.  I’ve done my share of interviews over the years…  An’ I’ll tell yuh flat out, they don’t make the person, but they shore ‘nough often reflect what’s inside.  Yuh dress and make yurself up weird, there’s a reason for it.  They look in the mirror an’ think they’re beautiful; well, we know that the Lord will send a strong delusion.  My lands, ol’ Barnum and others with their “freak” shows would go broke today.  Jist walk down the streets, or go into a WalMart.  There’ scary folk around, then add to it all the other crazies wantin’ to maim, kill, hurt, and want rights that they’re not entitled to.  Some folk think they can do what they want–doin’ right in their own eyes.  Why, Pard, the ignorant mayor of Chicago, that foreign city, made the statement, “Arresting Black people for robbery, drugs, rage, violence, and murder by putting them in prison is racism.  Plain and simple.  Prison is not the answer.  Freedom is.”  What in the world is he thinkin’?  Let them run free to do more mayhem and harm?  Racism?  If they don’t go to prison, and folks sure don’t want them walkin’ the streets, what’s left…?
     Common sense ain’t so common anymore, an’ Pard, I’m fearin’ it’s not comin’ back anytime soon.  Normality, well, it’s all relative so I reckon society will not be seein’ normal again.  Folks we’re in a sure ‘nough dilemma.  Tighten yur cinches ’cause yuh never know what’s gonna go on ’round you.  The ol’ devil is sneaky.  Sometime’s he’s a-stalkin’ yuh, other times he’s right on top of yuh like a roarin’ lion, and other times he’s a-layin’ down those traps and snares that’ll grab yuh like jumpin’ cholla.
     Well, the pot’s empty an’ I didn’t get to tell yuh anything about Memorial Day.  Yuh be sure to take time to remember those who sacrificed to keep this country free, and even those UMOs can walk the streets because of their sacrifice.  If’n yur grilliin’ hamburgers and hotdogs, be safe, don’t catch on fire, nor eat too many, or slop the ketchup on yur shirt.  If’n yur smokin’ a brisket be sure yuh don’t let it get overdone.  Sit tall in the saddle, it’s important yuh hold yurself straight an’ steady.  Be wary, ’cause the ol’ devil ain’t gonna let up on yuh.  Have a good Memorial Day.
      Vaya con Dios.

 

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

She crossed the room from the wood stove and held out a steaming mug in front of her. ‘Here you go, strong enough to lay railroad tracks on its own.’” 

                    –James Leonard  (The Marshal)
 
“Ol’ Dan Tucker was a fine ol’ man; he washed his face in a fryin’ pan…”  Well, howdy-do, Pard, an’ good mornin’ to yuh.  My, half-way through May already.  Got the coffee on, an’ don’t be a-feared, I don’t plan on wastin’ it throwin’ on the floor to see if’n I can use it for a foundation.  Don’t think it’d make good varnish even, but it might be good for refinishin’ some furniture if’n I was still doin’ that sorta stuff.
     Tryin’ my best to stay from politikin’ as it makes me grumble, and adds some extra juice to muh innards.  Can’t do much about it, exceptin’ to pray.  It’s all in the Lord’s hands, but in the meantime a person can get stirred up ’bout some of the foolishness and lack of common sense.  Why I was readin’ what that ol’ sage of the past wrote.  Yuh might remember him, rode the riverboats for a while.  Twain was his name, he spoke a truism, “No amount of evidence will ever persuade an idiot.”  Now ain’t that the truth!  Take that to the halls of Congress and into the court rooms.
     Speakin’ of courts.  The shysters are a mess.  Judges and lawyers alike an’ some of them don’t care ’bout justice at all.  Play with the system, dilly-dally around with the truth in front of them.  Run by their own agenda rather than the code of law.  If’n yuh ever read the Prophets, yul find that one of the indictments against Israel by most of them is a crooked and perverse justice system.  The “alleged” shooter of Charlie Kirk….I would ask where is the speedy trial.  Instead the shysters play at their shenanigans.  Hmmm, wonder who’s payin’ his legal fees.  Pard, let me be a tellin’ yuh, an’ I got this from a pard on that thar social media.  It’s taken from Proverbs 11:3, but put down to language liken yuh can handle.  “A crooked man don’t need the dark to hide.”  Ain’t that the truth!
     We need more like ol’ Dan, and perhaps use the fryin’ pan to be knockin’ some sense in the noggin’ of some of them polecats.  Ol’ Miles, from time to time, has been able to smell the aroma of the Pale Rider, well, I’m a-thinkin’ it ain’t jist smog we’re a-smellin’ or the garbage left in the streets.  It’s the odor from them legal and political shysters.  Pard, tighten that cinch down, or yuh jist might come out to find yur saddle missin’.  Taken by one of them illegals, or given to some bum, by one of them shysters.
     Breath deep, but beware yuh jist might come up with an aroma that might cause yuh to turn green.  No matter what, as I already tolt yuh, the Lord’s in charge.  The fools are all around and in various places thinkin’ they got it under control, but they’re doin’ nothin’ but a-foolin’ themselves.  Yep, there’s plenty of them fools fools out there.
     Yuh keep ridin’ straight and for the brand of the Lord.  Don’t be dilly-dallyin’ no place yuh don’t belong.  Gun oiled an’ handy, Bible read an’ ready for use.  An’ Pard, besides the coffee in the mornin’ don’t be leavin’ without be prayed up.  Varmints, hostiles, imps, an’ skunks are lurkin’ about.
      Vaya con Dios.

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Cowboys drank too much coffee, sometimes ten cups a day.”

                    –Zane Grey
 
Mornin’ to yuh, Pard.  No, we ain’t gonna set ourselves down and drink a couple pots of coffee.  Though, I can recall a few days of doin’ that.  Why one ol’ runnin’ pard back in Colorado used to be a coffee drinker.  One night his wife and mine, we all sits ourselves down to play cards.  I remember the missus had made several dozen bear-sign, that’s donuts to yuh tenderfeet.  We ate donuts, drank coffee, and had a good ol’ time.
     Let me pour yuh a cup, not that I don’t be trustin’ yuh with the pot, but I surely don’t want to spill a drop.  That’s birthday coffee, real genuine coffee from New Guinea.  Hard to get any better than that.  Go ahead yuh start yur sippin’ an’ I’ll fill yuh in on some more of the stupidity that is in this country.  I tell yuh Pard, yuh don’t want to even take a gander at the news anymore.  The hatred, the evil, and my land, all of the stupidity.  
     Heard that a Walgreens was been attacked by repeated shopliftin’.  They put in anti-theft locks to secure merchandise.  Guess what–they’re callin’ that racist?  Go figure that out if’n yuh can.  Now here’s one that beats all.  Almost fell out of my chair when I read it.  That wicked person who recently tried to kill the President and other officials came up for a hearin’.  The judge (small capital j, he doesn’t rate a capital J) apologized to the accused for the “extremely restrictive conditions” inside the jail.  My mercy, the man is in jail not the country club.  Get this, here are the conditions:  “placement in a padded cell under near-constant observation, with limited access to basic privileges such as phone calls, reading materials, and recreation.”  Recreation for a would-be assassin??!!
     Finish yur cup ‘fore I tell you this one.  I don’t want yuh snortin’ out that good brew.  Dinesh D’Souza wrote this from the former first lady.  Hold on, Pard, let me be tellin’ yuh, then I’ll get yuh another cup of coffee.  “Let me explain something to white people.  Our hair comes out of our head naturally in a curly pattern.  So when we’re straightening it to follow your beauty standards, we are trapped by the straightness.  That’s why many of us can’t swim.”  ????  If’n she really said that…..my, my we’re in trouble.  No logic, no sense in it at all.  What was it we read in the Psalms?  “Some became fools through their rebellious ways.”(107:17)  Fools, that ain’t the half of it.
     Well, Pard, we didn’t drink ourselves ten cups, but we almost finished a pot.  I make sure it’s gone by the end of the day.  Watch yur talk, be wary of yur walk, don’t be hangin’ out with fools, and for sure be a-checkin’ yur cinch.
    Vaya con Dios.

 

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

She held out a mug of coffee for him and then took a drink from her own. Curls of steam rose off the bitter brew, twisting like small ghosts. She stared at the black coffee like it was a mirror.”
                    –James Leonard  (The Sun Never Sets)

Pestilence is coming Pard.  No, don’t be a-lookin’ in yur cup, that’s pure delight.  I wouldn’t be givin’ yuh no poison to be drinkin’.  But Pard, yuh remember that thing they were callin’ COVID?  Say what yuh want about it, folks got scared, did crazy things, and many did die.  A forerunner of what is to come?  Could be, but it does show the state of people and the power of the government and the press.  Get them all a-frenzy, promise a solution and they’ll grasp for it.
     Yuh keep a-starin’ in yur cup.  Don’t be frettin’, go ahead an’ take a sip.  Ahhh, see it’s downright good.  But back to this year’s thought of pestilence.  I read that there’s a new screwworm workin’ its way towards Texas.  No, I’m not speakin’ of the liberal politicians though they have the same effect.  This new pestilence is supposed to be devastatin’ to wildlife, pets, livestock, and even human beans.  The symptoms are a stinkin’ bloody mess from the wound, and irritated behavior, head shakin’ and the like.  Hmmm, the more I think of it the more I see it already infectin’ us two-legged species.  My mercy, Pard!  Are those folks infected with a spiritual screwworm?  Look at ’em.  They have the symptoms.  What was it that ol’ John wrote in the Revelation.  “And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed him. And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by wild beasts of the earth.” (6:8, ESV)  Ol’ Miles Forrest said that he could at times smell the rider of the Pale Horse.  Take a whiff.  Listen, with all that poison bein’ spewed and the lies, don’t be surprised if’n yuh don’t start smellin’ the rider of the pale horse.  Pestilence is part of his arsenal.  Again, not to be alarmin’, but is this another wake up call?

     Pard, yuh don’t be drinkin’ none of the poison that’s bein’ offered yuh.  Don’t be a listenin’ to all them lies tryin’ to get yuh on their side.  Compromise has no place in our lives.  Pard, these left-wing folks are not a pretty blackbird, but a hideous buzzard ready to pluck out yur spiritual eyes.  Evil is out there to get yuh, to trick yuh, to connive yuh.  Look at them, listen to them–they spew the very vile from the pit.  Some of them are even tryin’ to take spiritual overtones, a sorta pseudo-Christianity.  Don’t be fooled by the sweetness that seems to come from their lips for in the end it will be worse than strychnine. 
     Hey Pard, what’s that smell?  No, it’s not yur armpit, it’s something far more sinister.  Is the Pale Rider mounted and ridin’ this way?  Pestilence, beware, watch who yuh bump into along the way, as they could infect yuh.  But ride tall in the saddle, be wary, and keep goin’ onward and upward.  
    Vaya con Dios.
  
P.S.  Don’t forget to check yur cinch.  That could be one of the ploys of the pestilence.