–Patrick Lindsay  (Pike Hardy)

 

Mornin’ to yuh, Pard.  Here we are in March already, two months down.  My mercy, what happens to the time?  The weeks, the months, and now the days just seem to fly by.  Have breakfast coffee and yuh look at the clock an’ it’s already time for the mid-mornin’ coffee break.  Whooooeeee…

     Don’t yuh be a-frettin’, my coffee’s jist fine.  Yuh can swaller all yuh want, an’ yuh don’t have to be spittin’ it out.  Pard, I read that an’ it made me think of most of the bureaucrats I’ve listened to an’ seen.  Yuh can only handle a couple of swallers of their guff at one time.  Makes yuh want to do more than spit it out.  Some ol’ boy was sayin’ that yuh can make a good case out of nothin’, if yuh disregard evidence.  Now, ain’t that the truth.  Some of them politickin’ burueaucrats sure do play that to the hilt.  Yuh wonder how some of them make it in life, but guess they have enough lies to get by in life.  Yuh put the plain truth in front of some an’ they’ll sputter an’ fume.  Some will get mad, some will jist huff an’ puff, whilst others will walk out.  Walk out on the truth, now that jist don’t make no sense atall.

     See, the coffee’s downright good an’ tasty.  Now, I’ll admit, there’s some folk will add a little water to my brew, whilst others will put in some cow juice.  Both change the flavor some.  Pard, there’s jist some folk that add enough water, milk, or other liquid to the truth to make it palatable to what they want to hear.  Goodness, jist look at what our Lord had to go through.  No matter the truth He tolt to the powers-that-be, they wouldn’t believe Him ’cause they wanted Him to be followin’ their agenda.  They’d rather believe the lies of their father–the devil.  Ol’ Paul tolt us that folks would be runnin’ ’round with itchy ears.  Well, Pard, that time’s upon us.

     I’m beginnin’ to be understandin’ more of what the Lord meant when He done said, don’t be castin’ yur pearls before the swine.  Those hogs will trample them in the mud, wallow on them, an’ if’n yuh try to find them they jist might be in the stomach of that hog, or so muddy yuh can’t be recognizin’ them.  Well, some of those politicians do the same thing with truth.  My, my, if’n yuh don’t think so jist lookee at the feller runnin’ for the senate in Texas.  He’s got so much of the Scripture twisted up, yuh can’t tell Adam from Eve, nor Isaac from Thomas.  Best be knowin’ the Word, stickin’ to it, guardin’ it, and teachin’ yur younguns the truth before it gets all fouled up by some mealy-mouth bureaucrat.

     Say, the pot’s empty.  Yuh must have been drinkin’ whilst I’ve been tryin’ to take care of problems.  Yuh be mindin’ yur Ps and Qs, ride tall in the saddle, keep yur gun handy, and the Word in yur heart, and don’t let none of them bureaucrats be tellin’ yuh that in this modern, sophisticated, an’ technological age that yuh no longer need to be checkin’ yur cinch.  That jist ain’t the truth.

      Vaya con Dios.

                    –William MacLeod Raine  (A Texas Ranger)

 

     Take heed to what ol’ Bill Raine said, keep yur gun within reach as there’s too many crazies runnin’ ’round out there.  My mercy, the way them supposed sophisticated bureaucrats acted durin’ the President’s speech, one has to be wonderin’ ’bout the common person any more.  Pard, things are gettin’ out of hand.  Where’s the common courtesy that is to be afforded?  It’s not black and white no more, it’s not racism that is the issue; it’s the sane versus the crazies.  

     But enough of that, don’t want to rilin’ yur gizzard with all that foolishness.  But one other thing, an’ then I’ll poured yur coffee as I see yuh reachin’ out yur paw.  There’s a payday comin’.  Sooner for some, eventually for all.  Don’t yuh be forgettin’ that.

     Hyar yuh go.  Take a sip an’ that’ll perk yuh right up.  Picks me up, why whenever I need a fixer-up, I’ll pour me a cup, sit down in my chair an’ do a little contemplatin’.  Went to the doc the other day, and found out–guess what, I’m gettin a mite older.  Yep, as my Aunt and Grandma used to call it, progressive agin’.  Listen, Pard, it happens to all of us if’n we fortunate to live that long.  But let me tell yuh the goodness truth of the matter.  I look at those folk in the doc’s office an’ they’re bad off.  Besides the aches and pain they must have they let it affect their face and demeanor.  Not, all, some roll with the punches.  Some know that the ol’ body wears down an’ they keep a right good attitude with it.  Why Pard, I thank the Lord for another day, and always for a good night’s sleep.  Don’t want to get sour and grumblin’.

     Ol’ Paul, wrote somethin’ like this.  “We do not lose heart!”  Get that in yur noggin’.  Most of those folks I saw have lost heart.  They depend on the doc for help an’ they get their pills to swaller, but it don’t do much good, jist helps them linger on a little longer.  See, we should never be losin’ heart.  Yep, for shor, this ol’ body is wearin’ or as Paul said, “wastin’ away.”  But the good Lord don’t leave us that way ’cause our innards, no not yur gizzard and liver, but that inner man is bein’ renewed day by day.  Get this Pard, when yuh feel the aches and pain, an’ yuh let out a moan–spiritually we never grow old.  Now, that’s something to clog in the kitchen about.

     Hold on, Pard, I jist can’t hold it in.  Beller out with me if’n yuh want to.  “Never grow old, never grow old, In a land where we’ll never grow old…”  Whoopi-yi, don’t that get down in yur soul?  Add that to yur coffee an’ yuh can surely have a good day.  Live the life that the good Lord would have yuh live an’ don’t be worryin’ for yuh ain’t never gonna grow old.

     Keep that thought through the week, but wait, that don’t mean to go through life foolishly–yuh still need to check yur cinch.  

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Zane Grey

 

Come on in, Pard, grab yur cup.  Listen, no matter what that ol’ sage had to say, I don’t drink nine cups after every meal.  Maybe two or three; it is nice to have a cup after the supper meal though.  Don’t know if’n the coffee would wear out the stomach or line it so’s that it won’t wear out.  Sorta like sealin’ it up.  Been havin’ some good coffee lately.  Ahhh, sittin’ in my chair, watchin’ the sunrise ev’ry mornin’, and sippin’ the hot brew whilst thinkin’ on the Lord and doin’ my mornin’ readin’.

     Well, Pard, I went out an’ did my duty as a citizen yesterday.  Notice I used the word “citizen.”  Only citizens have the right to vote.  I surely don’t know where folks get the idea that all have the same rights in this country.  There are some that are for citizens only.  Non-citizens and felons who have lost the right to vote because of the consequences of their actions need to stop their clamorin’ for their rights.  An’ worse are those pseudo-politicians who back them, not out of concern, but out of the vote that would come their way.  Bunch of lily-livered, white-washed, veneer-covered, mouthy no-goods is what they are.

     Ahhh, but no need to get the gizzard riled.  The Lord has it all under His control, but He still expects us to do our duty no matter where we live.  An’ one more thing, Pard.  That fellow in the Senate who keeps mouthin’ off ’bout Trump wantin’ to be a king, best be gettin’ ready.  Two kings are on the horizon.  One is the man of lawlessness, the one who will demand worship and will bring world-wide anarchy and chaos.  When he is disposed of the true and righteous king of the universe will rule–Jesus Christ.  My, my, my what a day that will be.  Peace, order, and control will finally come to the weary ol’ world.  The curse will be removed, and those wildfires and other natural disasters will stop.  Nature will be quittin’ its groanin’s.  

     Pard, think of it.  No more quibblin’, an’ hopefully all the cinos will be done away with, an’ I’m not jist a-talkin’ ’bout coffee cinos.  I’m speakin’ ’bout those watered-down, mouthy folk who are ignorant of the Lord and His way, and are downright fools.  See Pard, those folks don’t know the truth and many of them don’t want to know the truth.  But thank the Lord, as Paul done tolt us, “We have the mind of Christ.”  Yep, he wrote that to the church in Corinth, let’s me think, first book, 2:16.  But Pard, now is the time for us to be strong, like that thar coffee yur a-slurpin’.  Now, we are to be havin’ the mind of Christ, living a holy life, thinkin’ ’bout the things of the Lord, an’ then be a-doin’ them.

     If’n yuh haven’t done yur duty in votin’, best be gettin’ it done.  Make sure yuh vote for the godliest person yuh know, one that tries to be livin’ by the Good Book.  An’ Pard, don’t go runnin’ out to vote without first checkin’ yur cinch.  Fallin’ on yur noggin’ might knock some sense into yuh, but it could make yuh dizzier than yuh already are.  Be havin’ a good an’ safe week.

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –John Deacon  (Lobo)

 

Get yurself in here Pard!  There’s a little chubby flyin’ imp shootin’ arrows at people.  Nah, I’m jist a-joshin’ yuh, but there’s a whole lotta nonsense goin’ on today with the foolishness of cupid.  The Greeks with all their so-called wisdom shor enough did have plenty of foolishness as well, but that’s a story for another Saturday.  Soon as I get yur coffee poured I’m goin’ be philosophizin’ with yuh some.

     Ahhh, let me take a large swaller befores I get started.  Love, what is it?  Most people have it all confused and even for us unconfused ones it is still a grand mystery.  The missus will tell yuh–“honey, I love yuh,” then go right around and say, ‘oh, I jist love these shoes.”  What does that make a person?  Tell me if’n yuh know, an ol’ worn out shoe?  I love ice cream, plain ol’ vanilla–I love the cats–I love my wife–I love God.  Hmmm, and then throw on it the idea that I jist love my coffee along with a piece of pie.  Love, love, love…

     Don’t be sittin’ thar with yur mouth open – at least be fillin’ it with that strong coffee.  I want to be tellin’ two things that I think is true of love.  Shor thar’s more, but I want to tell yuh two things I think is true.  First un, love is a mystery.  No question since yuh can’t rightly define it, it must be a mystery.  It’s sorta like a package that yur given.  Finely wrapped with pretty paper, the edges all perfectly tucked in, an’ it’s all wrapped with a pretty ribbon an’ gorgeous bow.  See, love will sometimes come at yuh as a pretty package.  It gets yur attention; yur heart goes pitter-pat, and yur gizzard thump-thump.  My, my, yuh even might start to drool an’ that’s all ‘fores yuh begin to unwrap it.  

     It’s done up so nicely yuh don’t tear it open, but yuh begin to gently unpeel it until all that’s ‘fore yuh is a box full of something.  Pard, that’s it–it’s full of all sorts of things.  Things that’ll make yuh laugh, some that’ll make yuh cry.  Some will be bringin’ yuh joy, an’ some will have sadness attached to it, but Pard, as shor as yur sittin’ there drinkin’ coffee it’s all love.  Funny thing how folks say they fall in love, an’ I ain’t a-doubtin’ them none, but what I don’t gather in my thick-skull is the fact that they can fall out of love as well.  Don’t register with my pea-brain.  If’n it’s love how do yuh fall out of it?  My ain’t it a glorious thing that the good Lord don’t fall out of love with us–He’s jist not all that fickle.

     Let me take another sip, then I be goin’ on.  Mmmm, pure delight–just like love.  Now, here’s the second thing I know ’bout love.  Not only is it a mysterious phenomenon, but in my way of thinkin’ it is also a gift.  Jist like that thar package I mentioned.  It’s a wonderful gift.  Why is it yuh can love one person an’ not another?  Now, that’s jist bein’ real.  Only the Lord loves everybody the same, an’ I realize that it don’t say nothin’ in the Good Book ’bout it bein’ a gift, but it has to be.  Thar’s some folk out there that are jist plain unlovable.  Only the Lord can give yuh the gift to love them.  Some of these folk that get up an’ spout off, “I love y’all,” jist fried my bacon.  They don’t!  They say it, they might think they mean it, but they don’t know a lick of what they’re talkin’ ’bout.  Now, true, one of them true evangelists that is called in the Church might have that special love, an’ I know we’re supposed to love, but it’s downright hard sometimes, that’s why I’m a-sayin’ that it has to be a gift from the Lord to love everyone.

     Now, I’ve done run out of space, an’ yuh’ve run out of time an’ need to be gettin’ on down the road.  But say, Pard, did yuh love my coffee this mornin’?  Did it give yur gizzard fits?  Let me tell yuh as yur a-leavin’ that Annie and I are spendin’ our fifty-sixth Valentines together.  My mercy, Pard, that’s love.  The good, the bad, along with some ugly.  She’s stuck with me through all the dust that’s been thrown up over the years of travelin’ this journey of life.  Whoooeee, and I wouldn’t trade it for nothin’.  My ol’ rundown heart still palpitates with thought of her, an’ her bein’ by my side.

     Pard, yuh take care this week.  Tell someone yuh truly love them, then act like it.  I love yuh ‘nough to be tellin’ yuh to check yur cinch.  No need to be reachin’ those pearly gates ‘fore yur called.

    Vaya con Dios.