–Donald L. Robertson  (The Loyal Star)

 

Hold the cup, whilst I finish pourin’.  Don’t want to pour it on yur arm, yuh might get scalded.  Yuh be a sippin’ whilst I pour my cup.  Yuh needn’t be expectin’ me to be spoutin’ off this mornin’.  Nope, gonna hold my piece.  Ain’t gonna say nothin’ ’bout them moronic dummies in New York.  They’ll soon be wallowin’ in the mire of their own makin’ so ain’t gonna be mentionin’ it.  Ahh, but the coffee is good.

     Shore hits the gizzard jist right don’t it?  Pard, keep enjoyin’ it and don’t expect me to say nothin’ ’bout the foolishness of the Mexican President when she said that fighting a war against drug cartels is unlawful because it would violate the rights of drug traffickers and it would be fascist.  Nope, ain’t gonna say nothin’ regardin’ that absurd statement.  Not gonna say nothin’ ’bout the craziness that is goin’ on in the world.  Ahhh, but don’t that coffee hit the spot?

     “Nother cup, shore Pard, comin’ right up.  Got it sittin’ right here on the stove top.  Glad to see yur enjoyin’ it an’ not wantin’ me to be spewin’ political nonsense at yuh.  Nope, puttin’ the urge aside.  Those liberal left-wing democrats who are keepin’ the government shut down, don’t deserve mentionin’ from an ol’ fence post like me.  Seems like stupidity is still at large in those marble halls of Congress.  Say, Pard, did yuh ever think about if’n we had a parliamentary government like the UK that Pelosi would have been prime minister?  See there are things to be thankful about our government despite some of the foolish an’ demented people in it.  An’ aren’t yuh glad I kept back my urges to spout off?   Ahhh, sure glad that the coffee is good this mornin’.

     Pard, I’m just a happy man.  Like ol’ Robertson, happy, happy, happy.  Why shore there are things that need fixin’.  Shore there are fools all around.  Shore there are the lazy bums that want nothin’ more than a handout.  Shore, as the Lord told us, the poor will be with us always, and I’ve always reckoned that He didn’t jist mean the poor in the wallet, but the poor in character as well.  Yep, got a sweet wife, who bakes me pies and other sorts of goodies and fixes superb meals.  She bakes bread, slices me off a piece, butters it, an’ sometimes puts some jam or honey on it.  Yep, I’m a happy man.  Got a good family.  Ahh, but ain’t the coffee good!

     Good coffee, good food, good fellowship, my mercy, what more is there?  Yuh be havin’ a good week.  Ride straight and tall, let folks know yuh’re a-ridin’ for the Lord.  Keep yur gun oiled and handy, have yur Bible read, and be checkin’ yur cinch.

    Vaya con Dios.

                    –C.J. Petit  (Chance)

 

Glad yuh made it this mornin’, Pard.  I was a-fearin’ that the goblins might have gotten to yuh like that little orphan girl feared.  Yep, there are plenty of them things out there on the highways and byways.  Didn’t use to see ’em much, but now yuh can’t seem to go any place without seein’ some sort of wickedness.  Why just look at the faces and eyes of some of them politicians–pure evil.  May not be a goblin, but close to it, an ogre maybe.  Pard, yuh just stay watchful and don’t be frettin’, the worse ones are still locked in the abyss.

     What’s that?  Nah, this is good coffee.  Fresh, I wouldn’t serve my guest stale coffee, but I’ve sure have tasted some in my lifetime.  I will say this, stale coffee beats no coffee.  An’ the campfire–why that coffee’ll sit there for the day an’ if’n there’s still plenty in the pot, most likely it will be there at mornin’ light.

     Go ‘head, swaller it up while I do some spoutin’.  I saw where a woman was complain’ about not gettin’ her welfare.  She was wonderin’ how she was goin’ to feed her seven kids.  Now, there’s several issues with this.  Unless she’s a cripple, she needs to be workin’.  And while it wasn’t missin’ I’ll ask where was her husband?  Hmmm, how many has she had?  Do the kids have the same father?  Meddlin’?  Who me?  Nope, just statin’ the facts the way they are.  See the problem isn’t necessarily her lack of character, but the root problem is sin.  That ol’ statistical giant, Barna wrote recently that fifty percent of American no longer see “traditional” sins as wrong.  Listen, Pard, an’ don’t be snortin’ out any of that coffee–73% see drunkenness, gambling, and premarital sex as morally acceptable.  Yuh see the problem?  Man is wantin’ to redefine sin.  Barna says that this has led to “decades of social turbulence and spiritual confusion.”

     No, the problems won’t go away, but they can be dealt with if’n we had morally upright people.  People, who maybe don’t consistently practice it, but understand the difference between right an’ wrong.  Pard, man can say what he wants, he can go about redefinin’ right and wrong, but that don’t change the truth of God’s Word!  Hatred, bitterness, foolishness, why they can be taken care of if’n folks would just turn to the Lord.  He is the solution to their hungry hearts.

     Oh, the government shutdown?  Pard, let me tell yuh I have just one thing to say to those boot-lickin’ lackies in Washington, those liberal, left-wing goblins.  Yuh ready?  Ptui!! with double exclamation marks!  That’s why I’m tellin’ yuh be ridin’ wary.  Be a man, set apart for the Lord and walk in the light of His Word.  If’n for some reason yuh didn’t check yur cinch an’ yuh fall from yur saddle, get yurself back up, recinch and mount up.  The ride ain’t over until yuh get called on to glory an’ it’d be a shame if yur obituary said he died ’cause he forgot to check his cinch, or that he wasn’t totin’ his gun, or that his Bible was dusty.

    Vaya con Dios.

                    –B. N. Rundell  (The Road to Redemption)

 

Come in this kitchen, Pard.  Things are a-doin’.  Coffee’s plenty hot and strong enough to give yur innards a kick start.  Ha, sure do need that some these days; sometimes the old starter is startin’ harder.  Reminds me an ol’ 1952 Ford pickup I drove while workin’ landscapin’.  Yuh had to park it on a hill to get it started.  Let it roll some, then pop the clutch.  Shore was a cold thing, but it ran fine once it was started.  Guess that’s like I am.  Let my big toe touch the floor an’ I’m up, but ’til then…

     Ahhh, yep, tastes mighty good, an’ makes the ol’ gizzard smile.  Pard, have yuh ever wondered where some of these people come from, especially those liberal nuts.  Just like cockroaches that seem to crawl out of the woodwork.  There’s one runnin’ for Congress who said that if a Republican bullied her she’d slit their throat.  Mercy…don’t think there will be much talk ‘cross the aisles with her.  ‘Course their ain’t much now either.  Delusional–yep for shore an’ that tells yuh who they belong to.  An’ speaking of the father of lies, did yuh see that the photo of the Boston no king rally was rigged.  It was a photo, I think from 2017.  Lies, lies, and guess what, after the Lord returns these same folk will follow the man of lawlessness and his lies.

     See, that’s why they’ll sellin’ cinos and other such things an’ callin’ it coffee.  Lies, delusion, just a simple subtle thing to get yuh to believin’ somethin’ that ain’t so.  Pard, an’ ol’ poke from the Cowboy Site wrote some words that we need to be hangin’ on to.  Let me be passin’ them on to yuh.  He said that “bad folks ride every trail–some wear a grin while they twist the knife.”  See, Pard, I’m not the only one a-tellin’ yuh to ride wary an’ keep yur gun near.  This puncher goes on to say, “Yuh can’t change their ways or reason ’em right.  All yuh can do is keep yur boots clean and yur word solid.  The only cure for evil is refusin’ to join it.”  That tellin’ how the cow eats the cabbage!

     Yuh ever watch some of those folks bein’ interviewed?  My mercy…they haven’t a clue of what their doin’; it’s a wonder they can put their shoes on in the mornin’.  But then, that’s the crowd that ol’ slewfoot has in his back pocket–confused, angry, bitter folk full of hatred.  Our job is doin’ the right thing, helpin’ out in the place where we find ourselves, and bein’ the person the good Lord wants us to be no matter what trail we find ourselves a-travelin’.  Don’t be joinin’ that evil crowd!  Stay true to the Word an’ be standin’ firm, and if ridin’, sit tall in the saddle.  Keep the joy of the Lord, an’ be checkin’ yur cinch.

    Vaya con Dios.

                    –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.