–Chris Bennett  (Insurrection)

 

Pard, git yurself in here; don’t yuh know it’s cold outside?  My mercy, shut the door!  I’ll be gettin’ the coffee poured in a second.  Made it shor enough strong this mornin’, figured yuh’d need it after ridin’ over in the cold.  Whew, we made it through one cold snap now it looks like we’re facin’ another couple of days.  Poor folk in some areas have been without power for quite a spell.  One can bundle up, but with our high-falutin’ lifestyles now it’s hard to be without electricity.  Folks with gas have it some better.  An’ to think I used to work out in that stuff…brrr, makes me shiver to think ’bout it.  Cold toes I can do without.

     That makes me think of those fools in Minneysota out in the cold doin’ their so-called peaceful protests.  An’ Pard, while I’m at it I don’t recall readin’ anywhere in our Constitution where folk have the right to protest or riot.  It states that they have the right to peaceful assembly.  I hear them politicians and the media huffin’ and puffin’ about the right to protest and all I can do is shake my head and their ignorance and stupidity.  Yuh know to be out in that cold makes me wonder if they not bein’ paid to do so.  I shor do like the new term for the media–they are “full-diaper media morons.”  Shor does fit, and if’n it fit wear it.

     Ahhh, that coffee is like gettin’ kicked by a mule, or should I say horse.  Yep, it’s kickin’ horse coffee.  It gives yuh a real jolt, guess that’s why it’s called “kickin'”.  Back to those “full-diaper media morons” I recall the words of the ol’ Apostle to Timothy, “But mark this:  There will be terrible times in the last days.”  He gives a whole list among it is, “lovers of themselves, proud, abusive, ungrateful, unholy, without self-control.”  Get the picture?  Now look at those doin’ all that “peaceful” protestin’ — my mercy, they would fit in with a Halloween party, but the shame of it is that’s the way they look an’ they are proud of it.  See, many of them are not only cold because of the weather, their innards are cold as well.  Nah, Pard, not their liver or gizzard, but their hearts.  They have a cold, cold, hard, bitter, evil, and hateful heart.  One that has been given over to their sinful desires.  Pard, yuh be watchin’ out for them.

     See, Pard, that’s one of the reasons why we get together for coffee.  Not only for the pleasurable atmosphere of my company, ha–but for the buildin’ up and exhortin’ of one another.  Yuh see, there’s a real purpose for me to be tellin’ yuh to check yur cinch an’ keep yur gun handy, an’ ride tall in the saddle.  Someone has to tow the line, uphold decency and honor, an’ yur one of the hombres to do it.

     Well, Pard, we did it.  We done emptied another pot.  Time for yuh to be gettin’ on down the trail.  Think I’ll do some readin’, prop my feet up in front of the stove, and contemplate the goodness of the Lord whilst the fools go at it.  Yuh take care, now yuh hear?

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Richard P. Hobson, Jr.  (Nothing Too Good for a Cowboy)

 

“It’s a fact that you’re gettin’ older, man don’t it seem like the winter’s are colder?”  Come in, Pard, yur cup’s on the table, an’ the coffee’s on the stove.  I was just thinkin’ of that song by that buckaroo Dan Roberts.  Not shor but think it was wrote by G.C. Galvin.  Gettin’ older, that’s a pure fact.  The winters are colder, I reckon not, but the old bones might be thinkin’ they are.  No ten below zero here, but it don’t take much to knock out the electricity.  Don’t be frettin’ ’bout us Pard, the Missus and I are ready.  The campstove is ready to warm up some beans and keep the coffee goin’.

     Guess there’s just too many people, much of them don’t have no common sense, an’ the grid can’t keep up.  Course yuh never know, those weathermen are paid to lie.  Don’t take too much stock in them, but on the other hand it’s better to be safe than sorry.  In fact, Annie made a pie today so we can be ready for the icy weekend.  Problem is it won’t last until Sunday.  When I lived up in the northern lands I kept a sleepin’ bag in the ol’ steel mount, along with a sterno stove, a pan, coffee and tea.  Most of the time there was a pack of bouillon needed.  Usually a shovel, and a few other odds an’ ends.  Better to be prepared than frozen.  Knew an ol’ boy who got caught in a blizzard in eastern Colorado.  He had to pull off the road, but he was prepared.  When he woke the next mornin’ the snow had covered his car.  Course now’days they close the roads.  

     Pard, as yuh guzzle that hot coffee, I’m a-thinkin’ of those up in the cold.  It’s one thing to sit by the fire and listen to that cold norther blow, and entirely another to have to be out in it.  Those chilly fingers of freezing temperatures slowly strangle the warmth from the body.  Then ol’ Jack London’s story, “To Build a Fire” comes to mind.  Folks if’n yur not prepared, an’ then like in that story even sometime if’n yuh are things happen an’ the results can be catastrophic.

     “Nother cup?  Shor ‘nough, an’ if’n we finish this pot, I can jist make another one.  That’s part of preparin’ for the cold.  Go ‘head drink all yuh want.  The cold outside, and folk bustlin’ ’round in a frantic makes me think of the words that people will pray for the rocks to fall on them.  They are frantic, the world is in complete chaos an’ the judgment of the Lord is upon it.  Too late to get prepared, and they don’t know what to do, and Pard, think of it–they pray to an idol, the rocks.  I’m glad that the inner soul is warmed by the Holy Spirit.  He is like a fire that brings soothin’ warmth to a cold spirit, similar to a warm fire and a cup of coffee to the body that has been out too long in the cold.  Pard, if’n yuh know someone who’s out in the freezin’ wasteland, tell them to not wait too long to come in to the “fire” and warm the body and soul.

     Yuh better get on yur way.  Double check to make shor that yur set for the winter cold blast.  Then I guess if the electricity goes out, we’ll jist hunker down under some quilts.  Yuh be safe, an’ be careful.  At least I know yuh won’t be out ridin’ so I won’t be worryin’ ’bout yuh checkin’ yur cinch.

      Vaya con Dios.

                    –Louis L’Amour  (Comstock Lode)

 

Mornin’ to yuh, Pard, always good to be a-seein’ yuh.  My, my haven’t we had some purdy mornin’s?  The other day, I was up and takin’ the ol’ steel mount to get a check up and tune up.  The sun was just appearin’ over the horizon but the already the light was burstin’.  It was a sight to behold, as are most sunrises.  It almost made me blast out singin’, “O what a beautiful mornin’…”  But then thought better of it as the jeep might stall.

     I read something the other day that reminded me of Congress.  It shor does fit some of them lawmakers, an’ I’ll let yuh fill in the names.  But it is supposedly a Turkish proverb, “When a clown moves into a palace he doesn’t become a king.  The palace becomes a circus.”  My don’t that fit?  Some of those folk are worse than a jestor; why when I read the Bible and the Book of Proverbs I see their name printed all over the place–FOOL!  

     Shor glad I know the One in charge and in control.  My mercy, the foolishness, the hatred and anger that is happenin’ out there.  Folks don’t care about the people they are protestin’ for, and they don’t care about the law.  No wonder that the devil-man, the antichrist will be called the man of lawlessness.  Yuh see what’s happenin’ on the streets and that’s what yuh get when anarchy rules and what’s worse yuh got folks, clowns, along with the media that egg it on, pushin’ their agenda.

     Pard, let me tell yuh whilst yuh are sippin’ that coffee, don’t be readin’ and lookin’ too much at what is happenin’ for it’ll shor enough rile yur gizzard.  We best be doin’ the best we can, where we are, with what we have.  That’s a reason I invite yuh for coffee every Saturday.  That ol’ Stuart Hamblen song comes to my mind, an’ if’n yuh don’t mind…well, even if yuh mind, let’s sing the chorus:

          “Until then my heart will go on singing,

          Until then with joy I’ll carry on

          Until the day my eyes behold the city,

          Until the day God calls me home.

Pard, the verses are purdy good too, but I won’t be singin’ them.  Don’t be wantin’ to rile yuh up any more than the clowns do.  Shor glad yuh take the time to come by.  An’ I’m figurin’ that yuh glad to be a-comin’ by since the coffee tickles yur innards an’ on cold days warms them up.  Yuh be havin’ a good week.  Watch out for the clowns and the fools–that means be shor yur Bible-read, and gun-ready.  Yuh never know what kind of “thing” might show up on the trail.

     Yuh be sittin’ tall, ridin’ straight, wary and ready, an’ if’n yuh dismount don’t forget to be checkin’ yur cinch before climbin’ back in the saddle.

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Elmer Kelton  (The Good Old Boys)

 

Pard, there’s some truth in that sayin’ above.  I heard an ol’ boy say the other day that folks often get so busy with life and the toils of life that they forget to live.  Hmpf, I see yuh made yurself at home, grabbed a cup, an’ filled it from the pot.  Well, that’s what it’s there for.  But what I’m a-sayin’ is that life is meant to be lived an’ enjoyed as the good Lord intended.  Sure there’s bad spots, but just like travelin’ down the road, there’s good, smooth roads, but then once in a while a pothole is there an’ sometimes it jist can’t be avoided.

     Go ‘head drink up; that’s good coffee.  Now as good as coffee is, an’ as much as I enjoy it, I’ve had some bad coffee in my day an’ I’m not talkin’ ’bout cinos.  Whooee, let me tell yuh, I have had some coffee so weak it would best be used as dishwater an’ I’ve had it scorched–burnt and thick.  I sure do like my coffee strong, but I’m not carin’ much for scorched coffee.

     Folks go ’round life sorta the same way.  They either don’t enjoy it, they live it weekly (pun intended).  Others are jist plain ol’ sourpusses, while some jist want to have an excuse to git their gizzard all riled up.  I figure that some folks are happy unless life treats them bitter and they show their happiness by bein’ grumpy or loud or obnoxious.

     Pard, it’s only been ten days into the New Year and I’ll tell yuh, there’s a lot of stuff goin’ on, much of it is downright stupidity.  Besides that new mayor of New York City, and few other scoundrels around the country I read that the governor of New York declared January Muslim American Heritage Month.  My mercy!  One of the audacious things she’s done is to illuminate green on Friday night the World Trade Center lights to celebrate Muslim culture.  Talk ’bout a slap in the face.  Then there’s those Somalis who are claimin’ that the Foundin’ Fathers were of Somali descent.  Sometime’s Pard, all I can do is shake my head.  Sorta of like drinkin’ scorched coffee.

     Well, Pard, I’m not goin’ to be a-steppin’ on my lower lip.  Get yur cloggin’ boots on an’ join me since we’re in the kitchen.  “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, down in my heart.”  Come on Pard, or are yuh a-waitin’ for the next verse.  Well, let’s get it goin’, hold tight to yur cup, yuh don’t want to spill any coffee on the floor.  “If the devil doesn’t like it, he can sit on a tack, sit on a tack, sit on a tack.”  Yeehaw, the joy of the Lord is our strength.  Yuh be havin’ a good week, don’t take any wooden nickels, and be a-checkin’ yur cinch.

     Vaya con Dios.