All eggshells and just about cold, that dang coffee. Made with horse-dung and mud, not Arbuckles in my opinion. He mighta cared well enough for his horses, but he’s lucky there ain’t no law against making bad coffee—if there was, he coulda been hanged, for such swill as he poured us.”
–J.V. James (The Oldest Trick in the Book)
Come in here, Pard. Let yur tongue drool whist I pour yuh some coffee. Don’t be a-frettin’ none, I ain’t gonna serve yuh no bad coffee. Nosiree, I don’t believe in such a thing. There’s plenty in life that I surely don’t understand, an’ one of them is those folk that drink bad coffee. Fru-fru, cino stuff, that ain’t no good fer man nor beast. Whist I’ll bet an ol’ sow would turn her nose up at some of those things folks are a-drinkin’.
Yur lookin’ fine this mornin’, Pard. Britches are fairly clean, boots been wiped off, yep yuh look purdee nifty. Pard, that’s another thing I don’t be understandin’ at all. Yuh tell me why folks think it’s somethin’ nifty to be wearin’ britches with holes in them. I kid all the time with the younguns about that. I offer them a couple of dollars to help towards another pair of pants, or I’ll ask how much they paid for their pants and tell them they were cheated since they have so much material missin’.
Why Pard, back when I was a youngster, I would play on my knees until I wore a hole through my jeans. Grandma would then put on a patch and I can remember several times of wearin’ a hole in that there patch. She didn’t want me out with holes in my pants. Why if’n she was livin’ today, it would save her some time and effort not to be fixin’ up my pants.
Pard, I jist don’t rightly understand the thinkin’ of some folks. Yuh take them crooks, them sidewinders who sneak into this country to commit atrocities and practice their brand of wickedness. I don’t understand why folks want to allow them to stay. Why not send them back where’s they came from? In fact, some of them need to be sent on down to perdition as they’re a-headin’ that way anyhows.
Go ‘head, don’t be mindin’ me, drink that sweet nectar I made yuh. Nothin’ wrong with it, no sireee, that’s good coffee. I done made it my ownself. But here’s one other thing, Pard. Since folks are so rarin’ to have weak coffee, or holey clothes, I hope they don’t have any holes in their doctrine. Pard, they’re’s a bunch of people spoutin’ off weak or wrong teachin’ ’bout the Lord. We can’t afford to be goin’ out in hostile country without knowin’ what we’re believin’. Jist like yuh can’t be ridin’ out without checkin’ yur cinch; it jist ain’t safe, nor practical, nor God-fearin’. No, Pard, we got to have sound doctrine in our hearts, jist like yuh need strong coffee fer yur innards.
There, Pard, I’ve said my mind. Time for one more cup, an’ I’ll tell yuh a secret. Later today, the missus is makin’ a pie an’ I’m already a-hankerin’ for a piece ‘long with another cup of good coffee. Yuh be havin’ a good week, now!
Vaya con Dios.