–L. C. Matthews (The Promise)

 

Fear, terror, war and rumors of war, pestilence, the virus, heat, drought, anger and hate, evil spirits and false teachers–my Pard, ain’t it delightful?  I mean, the comin’ of the Lord has to happen soon.  Common sense has left us and the voice has become the postmodern “whatever” now abounds.  But let me get to some downright simple and hopeful–here’s a cup of hot, black, strong coffee.  Ahhhh, it’ll tickle the tonsils as it slides down the gullet.  What? Yuh don’t have any tonsils?  Well, sorry, Pard, yuh just have for wait for it to it yur stomach fer it to energize yur gizzard.

       Pard, I found out why yuh lost yur step.  That tired feelin’ that comes over yuh, I have the answer.  It’s not old age, no siree.  It’s not even what ails yuh physically.  We’ve been misclued all along.  Some high falutin’ smart pyschologist says that “‘whiteness’ drains people’s ‘psychic energy.'”  I never realized before that because I was born “white” that my psychic energy was at stake.  No wonder I could only work all day, then go out and play a nightime double-header.  Anything more would have been too much.

       This ol’ world must be the proverbial nutcake.  But yuh would think with all the “woke”, more enlightened people out there common sense might be seen.  Shore does make me wonder about them, and the scariest part is that the schools are producin’ more and more of them.  I reckon they’re blind, because there’s a pit and they’re headin’ right toward it.  Ol’ Paul done told us that, “professin’ to be wise, they became fools.”  But I don’t relish the thought that we have fools in the place of leadership.  No wonder the snowflakes melt in the times of crisis.

       Yep, those youngsters cayn’t even handle real coffee.  Set a mug of that coffee yur drinkin’ this mornin’ in from of them and right off they’d frown at the type of cup.  They’d want somethin’ more dainty or what they’re used to, plastic or paper.  Then it’d be too hot, too strong, and on they would go.  Life is sorta the same way for them:  too hot, too strong, not pleasant enough.

       Pard, yuh just ride tall in the saddle.  Be watchful of the obstacles along the side of the trail, and the varmints that may be hidin’ in them.  Watch the skies for the Lord’s return, and don’t forget when yuh have to mount up and get somewhere not to forget to check yur cinch.

       Vaya con Dios.

 

Now, there ain’t many things that get my gizzard riled.  One of them is bitter, scorched coffee or coffee that’s weaker than spit.  Another is to mock and scorn the things of God and adore those things He calls an abomination, and one more, just so’s yur a-knowin’, is to leave Americans behind to face who knows what kind of atrocities.  I know that we’re supposed to be honorin’ those in authority over us, but I also know that we are to be speakin’ the truth, and the truth is that we have a bunch of idiotic clowns tryin’ to make national decisions for us who haven’t got the sense of a jaybird.

       How’s that for a fine howdy-do of a good mornin’?  Coffee’s hot, and ready to be drinkin’.  I hope I didn’t ruffle yur feathers too awful much, Pard, but there’s some things that jist need to be said!  Why leavin’ thousands of Americans to face the ruthlessness of the Talyban is a crime!  Those folks don’t care a hoot for life, and don’t start about me not understandin’ their culture–they’re somethings that are wrong no matter what culture you’re in.  Already shot defenseless women for not puttin’ one of those hoods over their faces.  My mercy, how would a person know if’n they’re happy or a smilin’?

       Well, didn’t mean to go off on yuh so hard this mornin’, Pard.  The idea was, when I got up, was to put the coffee on, sit a spell waitin’ for yuh to ride up, and then have ourselves a little casual upliftin’ conversation.  But at least we did have a pot of coffee together.  Pard, when I get to seein’ all of this wickedness I look up a-wonderin’ how long the good Lord is gonna let it go on.  Men are so hateful of themselves, or should I be woke and politically correct and said all genders are so hateful of all other genders including the one that they say they is.  Now, that don’t make a lick of sense to me nor should it to anyone with any common sense about them.

       You be careful out there.  I heerd tell that there are vaccine police, and other such varmints crawlin’ about.  Why, Pard, there may even be some kind of police to make sure yuh tightened yur cinch before ridin’ out.  Pray that the good Lord will bless and keep yuh safe.

        Vaya con Dios.

                    –D.C. Adkisson  (Winter of the Wolves)

 

Hasten yurself in here, and plop yurself down.  Coffee’s in the pot and I’m gettin’ ready to pour it.  Pard, I’ve been scratchin’ my head all week wonderin’.  I still can’t figure it out, so maybe yuh can help me.  Can yuh tell me how a rock, a boulder, can be racist?  I saw and read where there was a small boulder on a college campus in Wisconsin and that student activist groups said it was racist.

       Oh, sorry, here’s yur coffee.  Watch that first sip for it’s hot!  A racist rock?   Just when yuh think yu’ve heard it all, now this.  It’s a wonder that those Yoda fans and rock-huggers are upset.  I mean, isn’t the force in the rock?  Enlightened?  Woke?  No, more like idiotic, moronic stooges.

       Makes me more and more glad that I lean on the “Solid Rock” the “Rock of Ages.”  Yuh know, I’m concerned that this is not the last of the stupidity out there.  Yuh start lettin’ these kooks get their way, well, there’s no stoppin’ them.

       Ahhh, coffee’s good.  Makes us some from the foolishness of men.  Hey, I also heard that there’s more to the bug out there that’s puttin’ some much fear into everyone.  Yuh know there was the virus, then the Delta strain, and I’ve heard now that there’s a Lamda strain, whatever that is.  Wonder if they’ll have to come up with more new vaccines.  Someone is sure makin’ the money somewhere.

       Stay at ease, Pard, and be a-leanin’ against the true Rock.  Say, and don’t be leavin’ here without checkin’ yur cinch.

       Vaya con Dios.

                    –Wayne D. Dundee  (Dismal River)

 

Come on in this house…coffee’s ready and waitin’.  It’ll get yur insides a chuggin’ an’ ready for what’s comin’ at yuh today.  I know at the age to which we have finally arrived the ol’ starter is harder to start.  That’s why a person needs some solid lubricant to get it goin’, none of that see-through stuff.

       I remember hearin’, way back from my youth, a story of a crooked man who walked a crooked road.  When that came to my mind this week, I was for sure thinkin’ it was about those bureaucrats and the hoodlums they keep around them.  I saw where $33.5 billion dollars was spent last year on that so-called vaccine.  Somebody’s sure rackin’ in the dough.  Oh, yuh say the shot is free.  Ha, ha, ha, there ain’t nothin’ free, hasn’t anyone ever told yuh that?  In fact, we’re all payin’ for it.  Payin’ for it with our taxes, payin’ for it with the loss of freedoms and rights, and payin’ for it by playin’ right into the hands of the charlatans.  Some of them (Gates, et.al.) are probably sittin’ back, smokin’ an ol’ stogies and gigglin’ up their sleeves.

       One thing for shore, I know in Whom I have believed.  Yep, the good Lord is watchin’ over me, takin’ care of me, and guidin’ me through this wearisome land.  Along the way He even allows me to sit a spell with folks like you.  So yuh be havin’ a good week, don’t be takin’ any wooden nickels and always be mindful to be checkin’ yur cinch.

        Vaya con Dios.