–Lou Bradshaw (Blue Valley)

 

Come on in, Pard, take a deep breath, the aroma of the coffee is fillin’ the kitchen.  I  sure can remember some of those days in the high country fillin’ my lungs with that fresh mountain air.  Put that along with the coffee, add some bacon and bread to the aroma, an’ Pard, yuh’d almost think yur were in heaven.  

     Sometimes the air ain’t so cool, but it’s usually fresh.  Sure does beat breathin’ that city air, but Pard, yuh might want to be wearin’ a mask.  It’s startin’ up, the air soon is goin’ to be filled with the lies from the pit.  Listen to them politicians an’ yuh soon learn whose side they’re on.  The father of lies will be seen.  Why Pard, sorry, go ‘head and start yur slurpin’, I can talk whilst yur a-drinkin’.  But here’s the truth of the matter, there’s one slitherin’ with a slick, forked tongue, twistin’ the Bible, speakin’ contrary to the holy principles of God, an’ callin’ himself a minister, of sorts.  See, Pard, we’re never far from the evil that lurks out there, an’ it’s everywhere.  It goes from the high and lofty, the marble halls of government, all the way down to the slums of the cities.  More and more the fight is upon us, and woe to us if’n we let down our guard for a minute.  Pard, I’ll get yuh a refill when I finish my speechifyin’.  We don’t wrestle with flesh and blood, but against powers of this dark world.  When election time comes closer yul be seein’ what I mean.  I’m jist tryin’ to get yur ready now.

     Now where’s that coffeepot?  I jist had somethin’ on my mind an’ had to be lettin’ it loose.  I understand the need for a good cup of coffee.  See the world wants yuh to compromise, water down the Word of God, live a life of compromise and relative truth.  Why Pard, every mornin’ when I drink my coffee I ponder that over.  That’s why I make it strong and black, to remind myself not to be compromisin’.  Plus I enjoy the taste more than addin’ all those fixin’s that some folks do.

     One good thing from yesterday.  The spring rounds with the ol’ sawbones is over.  No more visits until early fall.  Ha, old, why most of them are kids with a computer who know how to read a lab report.  When I go to the doc I usually feel better cause I look at some of those poor folk in there an’ they’re bad off.  Some of them look like ol’ Bodacious, himself stomped on them.  Others look like they where thrown off into a barbwire fence while others into a large patch of cholla.  I feel sorry for them, for they look bad, I mean it Pard, bad.  So I step a little livelier when I leave the office.

     One more thing I jist have to be a-sayin’ before we part ways.  Pard, know this thing for sure–the Lord is good!  Yuh can sure be depenin’ on that all the way to the grave.  Yuh know we can count on Him to be helpin’ us when we have to be a wrestlin’ with all those evil imps and varmints from the Pit.  

     Well, next time we’re together, the Lord willin’, on a Saturday it’ll be June.  My mercy, time moves along faster than a full-blow’d stampede.  Yuh be takin’ care of yurself, an’ if’n yur close by we’re havin’ dinner on the grounds at church Sunday.  Don’t think Annie’s makin’ a pie, but she’s making bbq sausages, potato salad, an’ some cookies.  But I’m tellin’ yuh, there’ll be some fixin’s.  Have a good Lord’s day, an’ a week knowin’ He’ll be with yuh.  Oh, an’ one more thing.  Check yur cinch.

      Vaya con Dios.

                    –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.

                    –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.

                    –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.