The coffee was ready, so I picked up a cup from the shelf, wiped out the inside, and poured a cup.”
              –D.C. Adkisson  (The Shepherd)

Come in Pard, you can check the cup before I pour, but I did wipe it out, honest.  Put aside watching the clowns and their silliness for a while–those folk, the liberals and the media haven’t a clue.  I want us to think of somethin’ downright solemn whilst we drink our coffee.
    That Saturday, after the crucifixion, think what it must have been like.  It must have been a dull and dreary day.  Peter the Rock and the Sons of Thunder were moanin’, sittin’ back in the corner huddled, holding their arms around their knees waitin’ for a knock at the door to arrest them.  Andy must have burst out in the first version for he first started hummin’ then singin’, “gloom despair agony on me, deep dark depression, excessive misery…”  I’ll tell yuh, there weren’t no joy in that room.  Martha, always havin’ to have somethin’ to do, what wipin’ off the only table for the sixth time, Mary was sprawled in fetal position on the cot, and the other Mary just sat in a daze.  Yep, they were a sorrowful sight, and who knows where the rest of them were a-hidin’.  Perhaps ol’ Bart was back under the tree, holdin’ it tight.
    Go ahead, swallow that coffee, there’s plenty more.  Sunday mornin’ was comin’ ’round and before graylight they were awake.  Not movin’, just starin’ up at the ceilin’.  Martha was up, had the coffee made, but no one was sayin’ a word.  She was puttin’ things together for the women were plannin’ on goin’ to the tomb to place spices and ointments on the body of Jesus.  Mary, that one called Magdalene, was out already, probably moonin’ in the garden, just wonderin’ and a-wanderin’.  Pard, it was a sorrowful sight.
    The coffee was on the table, just sittin’, gettin’ cold.  No one wanted to do anything.  In the darkness, the gray was just beginnin’ to appear, Mag burst in the door, cryin’, actin’ in her ol’ hysterical self.  Mutterin’ nonsense that the body of Jesus had been stolen, taken away by someone.  Rock and John ran out the door to check on her word, while James just moaned and rolled over on the floor to face the wall.
At the tomb they were told that Jesus had risen.  Good ol’ Rock and John just stared at each other and went into the tomb.  Nothing, no body, only grave linens.  Mag followed them, but then saw a man, a gardener and she thought He might be able to tell her somethin’.  Then the man spoke her name, “Mary.”  Whoopti–Pard, she recognized Him.  He sure enough was risen!
    Pard, just imagine that Saturday goin’ into Sunday.  Finally, the Lord appeared to the Rock, and the others.  Listen, if yuh don’t do nothin’ else today, you be sure to understand that He is risen.  Just think, because of that we have the way to eternal life.  Say, if’n yuh don’t check yur cinch yuh might just get there sooner than yuh figured.
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Today in the Texas Revolution:  Houston moves his army to Buffalo Bayou.  Sidney Sherman engaged the Mexican army with a cavalry attack.

With a quick breakfast and what must have been a gallon of coffee under his belt, he swung into the saddle and started once more.”
              –Louis L’Amour  (“The Man From Battle Flat”)

    Mornin’ to yuh, Pard.  Hope yuh didn’t hurt yurself hurryin’ to get to the table.  Must in powerful need of some of my robust, grand-tastin’ comin’-at-yuh joy-juice to get the ol’ gizzard in gear this mornin’.  Ahhh, just relax a spell, and quite murmurin’ against the weather and all those other things a-naggin’ at yur soul.  Yuh cayn’t do much about most of ’em.
    More and more I’m convinced that the media, all forms of it, is out to be manipulatin’ us.  It used to be that the job of the news was to speak the truth.  Not no more, that for shore.  They have one job and that is to be manipulatin’ us folk out here.  They want us to hop to their tune.  Why, even the weather! Shucks, before the weather channel we got up and did what had to be done, made plans and if we saw a storm cloud a-brewin’, well we just took precaution.  Now, don’t get me wrong Pard, we should be wary of the storms, what’ I’m sayin’ is that we are even lettin’ the weather channel and now all these aps tellin’ us how to live our lives.  Why I think they just laugh at us fixin’ our lives around their reports.  Yuh know, I’m convinced that weathermen are one of the three occupations that are paid to lie.  ‘Course the other two are lawyers and politicians, and I might add the media.  
    Hold on just a second, I need to guzzle the last few drops in my cup and get a refill.  Now, then, another thing…what are these things they call “apps”?  Just another thing to rob our time.  Friend, I’m a-tellin’ yuh, once that’s gone there ain’t no repayin’.  Time is a precious thing and we give it away to an “app.” 
    Pard, while I’m doin’ some serious rantin’, don’t yuh fret I ain’t started into ravin’ yet.  They done and passed that gun law up there in Colorado.  I just scratch my head at how my ol’ home-state can be so stupid.  Especially with all the hunters and woodsmen that live there.  Goes to show yuh what’s ahead of us.  If’n yuh have a gun in yur home, and it makes a neighbor fear for their safety, they can report yuh and the law can come and confiscate all yur guns.  What about yur safety?  Listen, the holy Scriptures has done declared that we are a-livin’ in perilous times.  Yuh best be stayin’ alert, and yuh best be listenin’ for those heavenly hoofbeats.  I’m not talkin’ ’bout those “Ghost Riders” up in the sky, but those heavenly riders, especially the Boss Rider.  
    Well, I done did my preachifyin’ this mornin’.  Glad yuh stopped my an’ had some coffee with the ol’ fence post.  Yuh be takin’ care of yurself, and don’t let those witches be manipulatin’ yuh none.  Yuh know, manipulation is witchcraft don’t yuh?  An’ Pard, don’t be takin’ for granted that yur cinch is tight–check it before yuh mount.

No coffee can be good in the mouth that does not first send a sweet offering of odor to the nostrils.”
              –Henry Ward Beecher

Smell that aroma; ahhh, no, not you–the coffee, just sit back before takin’ a sip and inhale.  Mmmm, mmmm, go ahead Pard, now yuh can guzzle it.  There are some things that just have that wonderful, special smell.  Bacon, bakin’ bread, steak on a grill, and, of course coffee.  There are those smell-goods that we buy to perk ourselves up and to help us not annoy others with our fleshly smell.  Take another sniff, Pard, then a long, deep sip.  Ahhh, helps relieves the woes.
    There is the smell of the rain, that revives the flowers and grass.  There is even a special aroma of a cold, crisp, snowy mornin’ when the air is fresh and so still.  The Lord tells us that He enjoys the aroma of a sacrifice.  Makes me wonder, since we are to be livin’ sacrifices, what kind of aroma we give off to Him?  In fact, He tells us that we are to be a special aroma to those around us.
    Hmmm, well Pard, you shore don’t smell like coffee, or freshly baked bread.  Let me take a sniff…  Yes, I realize today is Saturday and you’ll take yur weekly bath tonight.  There must be some kind of spiritual aroma that can be detected in the spirit of a person, not necessarily the nose for Pard you shore don’t smell like a rose, nor a petunia either.  Though there are those out there that wish folks like us would smell more like lilacs.  No, my mercy, Pard!  Smell like a man, not a sissy, don’t whine or whimper.
    Now where in the world did that come from?  More coffee?  Ahhh, settle myself down.  In thinkin’ ’bout smells, there’s some bad ones out there:  skunks, rottin’ flesh, garbage, flatulence.  We have those types of aromas around us, whoooeee, they can give off an odor.  Maybe what’s worse is the smell of a rottin’ spirit.
    Well, Pard, another pot done drunk dry.  Yuh be sure an’ take that bath, for that human smell, and get into the Word so that you can give off a sweet spiritual smell to those around you and to the Lord.  Hmmm, sorta like checkin’ yur spiritual cinch.

Nothing like good old java, thick as molasses, and boiled in a lard pail over a camp-fire.  It gives a guy a kind of warm feeling when it hits the bottom of that empty belly.”  
              –Richard P. Hobson, Jr.  (Nothing Too Good for a Cowboy)

Lay out yur ankles under the table, pard, while I get the coffee poured.  Sure does feel good to have that mornin’ time before the day’s anxieties take over.  Ahhh, good coffee this mornin’. 
    I’ve been workin’ on my new book.  It’s takin’ me back to my youthful days of runnin’ in the foothills.  Just had my 3rd Elias Butler novel reprinted and another one, The Shepherd printed.  If yuh need somethin’ to spend yur time doin’, grab one and read it.
    I went to the hardware store the other day.  Lady handed back my change, she said, “Here’s your dime back.”  Reminded me of the old days.  The story of my Grandpa Jones came to mind.  He went out to eat one time and slammed his hand down on the table when he found out that coffee cost as much as it did.  He exclaimed, “A dime for a cup of coffee; that’s outrageous!”  Nowadays folks out there will pay close to $10 for a cup of that there cino stuff.  Did I ever tell yuh that I had a cino one time?  Yep, don’t know if it was a frappycino or a crappycino, just know it was terrible.  I like to have a cup of coffee after supper, but just can’t bring myself to pay over a dollar for a cup of coffee, and it would be weak at that.
    Kind of reminds me of those Pharisees.  They would parade themselves around town in their fancy duds, turn up their nose at the common and down-and-out folk, and pontifical things would flow from their mouths.  They have all that froth on top and if there is any real “coffee” in them it is weak and watered down.  Snowflakes are kinda the same way.  Fluff and phelgm and very little character.
    Drink ‘nother cup of that coffee; try to keep the water out of it as much as possible.  ‘Course have to have some, as I want it to flow down the gullet to my gizzard.  Thank the good Lord for small blessings; everyday blessings.
    You take care and don’t let anyone be foolin’ you come Monday.  Another month gone already–nothin’ stops the march of time.  Don’t be foolin’ yurself either–check that cinch.