“You Got A Friend in Me. You Got a Friend in Me,” “we go together like- Crockett and Tubbs,” Murtaugh and Riggs, Jerry and Chris, SJW’s and Commie thoughts, I mean we just fit. What am I talking about? I’m talking about myself and Xenstein, of course. Who is X-enstein? X-enstein is my new Glock 19X. The greatest creation from the minds of the Austrian legendary Glock factory, built, and conceptualized by the one and only, Gaston Glock. This is Herr Gaston’s finest creation to date, in my humble opinion.

   First some background, for those unfamiliar with the Glock 19X. The 19X was Glock’s submission to U.S. Army’s Modular Handgun System (MHS) Trials. Which was the Army’s selection process for selecting a new sidearm. The Sig Sauer P320 eventually won the contract, I also own one of those. It’s also a great handgun and should prove to be a great sidearm for our brave men and women serving this great country.  Much like the other companies that submitted handguns for the MHS trials, Glock decided to release a civilian version to the commercial market, with some minor changes.

The 19X is a sort of hybrid Frankenstein gun. The slide is the length of a G19 and it is mated to G17 frame. There have many YouTube vids and other interweb post maligning the 19X, stating that the configuration should have reversed, G17 slide, G19 frame. While there may be some valid points to this argument, I love this pistol exactly the way it is. I have carried it for at least forty hours a week since I got it, and the gun. Has. Been. AWESOME! The 19X comes from the factory with a flat dark earth color scheme and factory night nights, a must for a defensive pistol, in my opinion. The 19X also come with legendary Glock reliability as a standard feature.

  Ok, now for The Fuerst Option review. First off, 19X is a model number, not a name, and you give trusty sidekicks names. That is unless you’re a couple of jacked up robots from those sucky Star Wars movies, and their a-hole owners just kept calling them numbers. WTF?!? And yes, I did say sucky Star Wars movies. All the Star Wars movies sucked. As you get older, that should become clear without me telling you that they suck. Inside info, if you are thirty and don’t have to take your kids to Star War movies, and you are in that movie theater, on opening night, it may be time to rethink your life choices. There are girls out there, just saying, but I digress. Since the 19X is a sort of Frankenstein Gun; I named mine, “X-enstein”. That’s right I name my stuff. For instance, I write this blog, so I from this day forward I have decided that my call sign will be “THE OPTION”. So it is written, and so it shall be. I explained this to my lovely wife, “Cher-Nobyl”. That’s the call sign I’ve given her, because she is “Hot and Deadly”. We have been married twenty-seven years. After hearing my new call sign, Cher-Nobyl lovingly stated, “I think it’s time I look for a BETTER OPTION.” You can’t buy that type of enthusiasm. Cher-Nobyl works in retail at the Range stop by and see her while you’re there.  Being an Ordained Minister, I thought it appropriate to name my badass bright orange Subaru Crosstrek “Redemption’s Sun”. That Crosstrek is so amazingly badass you couldn’t hide its greatness even if you used camo netting. Right Scott?   My gold Honda Pilot “Bug out” vehicle is named “The Golden Beast”. I name stuff. That’s shit I do. So, The Option’s Glock 19X is now known as X-enstein. X-enstein is a total badass and cooler than James Dean. If Glock and everybody else want to call its color Flat Dark Earth, go ahead, I prefer to say X-enstein is the color of a lion’s mane coupled with the color of Thor’s golden locks. That works because lions are animal kings and X-enstein is The Option’s legendary hammer. I like to believe that all 19X’s have been constructed in the Austrian Alps by specially trained and genetically enhanced Austrian Black Eagles, and freshly delivered, by the afore mentioned Black Eagles, to the various world distribution centers. X-enstein is obviously too awesome to have been built in an ordinary factory situation, so I have no other explanation, that would make any sense. I’m sure this is obvious to all of you as well. At least it will be once you own one. The night sights are so highly visible that they are probably constructed by materials created from alien technology found at Area 51 and put on the market through a highly classified partnership with Mr. Gaston Glock. I have no concrete proof here, I’m just saying, the night sights are nice. The trigger is crisper than fall Washington apples. X-enstein’s match grade barrel makes my shooting more accurate than Phil Valentine’s assessment of liberal’s Trump Derangement Syndrome.

I’ve heard people say that the 19X is difficult to conceal carry. I have not found this to be the case. I take X-enstein everywhere. I have no problem concealing him, although his glow of awesomeness does shine through on a constant basis. I have found this weapon is really not much more difficult to conceal, than a Glock 19 or 23, though this may be a personal experience or preference type of thing. Bottom line, I carry X-enstein everywhere and have zero issues.

For example, X-enstein and I recently visited an East Nashville coffee shop. You know, we were spending some quality time together. Anyway there weren’t any “no guns allowed, helpless victims inside” stickers on the window, so in I went.  The no sticker was obviously a clever ruse, or more likely from the occupants inside, they were too lazy to put one up. The occupants looked like they were a hybrid antifa/vegan squad, holding a strategy for anarchy meeting. It was a strange collection of bad anime tattoos, wild colored hair, face tattoos and wool caps which are worn indoors in August by these types apparently.  I was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, a light weight leather blazer, and an NRA camo baseball cap. I stepped up to the counter and was greeted by some forty something male barista named Brahn. Brahn is a Slender Man with a purple colored buzz cut, three nose rings, and a lizard tattoo in the middle of his forehead just below his hair line. Brahn immediately recoiled in horror upon looking at me up and down and questioned me in very rude tone, “Who do you think you are?” I answered, “I’m The Option.”  Brahn then stated, “You have some nerve showing yourself in a public place.” To which I countered “look who’s talking.”  Brahn Said “I’m not serving anyone who supports the NRA, and wears clothing made out of murdered animals.” Brahn then retreated from the counter and I believe began to sob over by the espresso machine and the gluten free muffins. I let him know that I loved his electric razors, and when he was done with his child like tantrum/emotional breakdown over a hat could he please get me a large coffee, hold the social justice non-warrior flavored tears additives.

 Just then, I heard a screeching voice from behind me. The voice was horrible and chilling. It sounded like somebody dropped a hamster and a wine glass into a Ninja blender. I turned to find a crazy eyed woman behind me. I’ll let my response to her describe her appearance. “Miss, let me say this, no matter what our disagreements may be, it is an honor to have Shrek’s wife Fiona in our fine city.” In all honesty, she wasn’t green, she was more the orangey color of flavor blasted gold fish from the overly used spray on tan facility, and her skin had the textured look of John Wayne era saddle bags.  Fiona was not amused. “Is that real leather?”, she asked. “Of course it is. I’m from the Jersey Shore, the land of real leather and hair gel product.” In my defense I’m sure many steaks and beef bologna sandwiches were made from the by-products in the making of this blazer. (Oh, and also, my blazer has a name - W.I.L.S.O.N.)  I then tried to mend fences and said, “I’m surprised you don’t like leather, it seems to have a similar texture to your face.”  Fiona then stated the SJW book of bullshit go to tactic by yelling “You’re a Nazi”. I then at this point explained the way of the real world to crazy and ill-informed Fiona. I told her in a voice that all could hear, that if I respected the opinion of fools and idiots, and was not from New Jersey, which makes me immune from being offended, that statement may have actually offended me. See, my deceased father fought and was wounded in WWII. He actually fought real Nazi’s. He served his community as a Reserve Police officer standing up for people’s rights and protecting those who cannot protect themselves. My Father did that for no pay. He raised me to have the same beliefs and fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. I did so, serving my community as a Law Enforcement Officer for over thirty years. Unlike punks like you, I have actually seen what real, dangerous fascists are capable of as I was a responder to the 9-11 terror attacks against the World Trade Center.  They should remember that there are thousands of great First Responders and Our Great American Armed Forces fighting and protecting against real fascists every day. Sadly, many of them give the ultimate sacrifice. I looked around the room and everyone seemed offended and uncomfortable. Many seemed to have melted into puddles of soymilk chai tea, or whatever these idiots drink. So, mission accomplished.  I said, “You a-holes can keep your coffee.”, and in true Jersey fashion, flipped the room the double barreled bird, turned and walked out. I was ready to head to Dunkin Donuts, as they are fairly Cop friendly, when a young lady with “Jen” on her name tag, carrying a to go cup and a little bag of creamers approached me. She said “I’m sorry about all that.” She handed me the coffee and rolled up the sleeve of her sweat shirt and showed me a Thin Blue Line tattoo on her inner wrist. Jen stated that her father was a retired LEO in Alabama. I smiled and said, “Thank him for me.” Jen Asked for what? “For his service and most of all, raising a good kid.” Jen smiled back and said, “Thanks to you also.” Then Jen said the words all police officers love to hear, “no charge for the coffee”.  I thanked her and gave her a ten spot.

 All-in-all, it was a good day. I got to trigger some crybaby SJW’s, I met a young lady who made me feel like there are still some really sweet people out there, I got some free coffee (it was actually pretty good), and most of all I got to spend some time with X-enstein. I also learned a real good situational awareness lesson, I wasn’t expecting, my Subaru Crosstrek to seamlessly blended into the urban East Nashville Hipster landscape. Who would have thought?

I guess along with my abilities in picking an awesome wife and picking awesome guns, I must add to my abilities, picking awesome rides. All this and I still remain supremely humble. Wow. I really am The Option.


TFO Safety Suggestion- I tend to make fun of Antifa and groups such as these, but on a serious note, these groups are potentially dangerous, due to their large group violent mob methods of operation. These methods are dangerous to the innocent public in general, as their “protests”, which are really more akin to riots, are held in the streets of cities and towns, causing un-involved members of the community to be potentially injured. I suggest stay up on what’s going on in your communities and if you know there is a protest or similar event planned, avoid those areas, especially if you are going out with your children. Stay vigilant and stay alert. Be careful out there.

Quick Note – If you guys read this and are current customers or plan on visiting Royal Range, I would like to make my readers aware that along with being a range safety officer, I am also a certified firearms and tactics trainer. I am also a CPR, First Aid and AED instructor and I am available for private and small group training. I am a retired Law Enforcement Officer who served with local, county, state and federal agencies, as a tactical team officer, high risk warrant execution team officer, juvenile detective and certified instructor in firearms in New Jersey and the state of Tennessee. I believe training should be informative, fun and entertaining at the same time. Come by the Range and see me. It would be my honor to be your “Fuerst” Option when you want some training. Thanks.

                                                                The Option.


EPISODE VII: Masculinity is NOT the Problem

Toxic Masculinity is defined as adherence to the traditional male gender roles that restrict the kinds of emotions allowable for boys and men to express, including social expectations that men seek to be dominant (the “alpha Male”) and limit their emotions primarily to expressions of anger.”

In the mid-seventies my Father coached my little league team. We were “The Mets”. My Father and I would show up to the field at least an hour before practice to play catch and prepare for the upcoming activities. My Father was an executive with an international manufacturing plant and was in charge of safety and security. He did not own a pair of sneakers or jeans. He coached in his suit pants and dress shoes. He dressed the same way to cut the lawn, build a shed, watch TV, ice-skate, everything. I never saw him wear anything other than some configuration of a suit. Dressing down for my Father was rocking a white tee-shirt with dress slacks, but, only if it was eighty-eight degrees or over.

My father ran that team, like he ran his department at the company. You showed up on time, you did not call out sick and you worked hard.  I remember we lost our first game, (they kept score back then) and the team asked my Father if we were going for ice cream. My father said simply, “Ice cream is what the winning team gets.” The team was heartbroken, but also angry. The team bonded over thinking my Father was an A-Hole and I was all in with the team. A funny thing happened though; we won the next three games and we ended up in the playoffs. We didn’t win the championship, but we did pretty well overall. This pattern never changed; wins meant ice cream, and losses meant none. We were taught the difference of winning and losing. We understood that hard work was rewarded, and that was a lesson we could take with us throughout our lives. On a side note, at the end of the season, Dad still bought the team pizza, for a great season, despite not winning the championship.

As I grew older, another memory from that summer stuck out. A few days after every loss, my mother and I would end up at Dairy Queen getting sundaes and talking about the week. It didn’t occur to me until I was older that that was the band aid for the loss. We never spoke about it and as a ten-year-old kid I couldn’t put it together, but Mom was doing her job. Teaching me the nurturing part that all of us need to have to function in a civilized society. Mom understood that Dad was better at teaching physical and emotional toughness, and she was the compassion part of the equation.

The definition, or as I think of it, “collection of words that develop a bunch of PC agenda driven bullshit”, that I wrote at the beginning of this was done to point out our supposed “progressive” society’s demonization of the traditional American Male as well as their war on all things traditional. That being said, let me explain that it’s not masculinity that’s toxic; it’s lack of learning how to be a Man. Men are not what that PC definition describes; angry brutes who’s only emotion is anger. That’s an insult. That definition is describing what, in my opinion, is known as unmanly jerk-offs. Bullies and those who abuse women and children are coddled, entitled, little members of the male gender who never learned to be mentally tough enough to stand on their own two feet and can only express themselves through anti-social behavior.

There is a difference between being a male and being a Man. Being male takes only having a certain DNA Code (and this is not something that you can just decide you want to change because of how you “feel”). Men are built by caring men and women who teach them the ways of life. I may be old fashioned in some ways, but the strong masculine men, who served as my role models taught me to respect and honor the women in my life. The taught me to stand up for what was right and protect those who cannot protect themselves. To stand up to bullies and not allow myself to be bullied. These lessons were taught at home and we did not need some government school program to teach us not to be A-Holes.  The men of my generation didn’t stand around watching while some loser beats up his girlfriend or lets a gang of cowards beat down some lone victim. We would jump in to stop it. That’s true man code. Hell, that’s just human code.

Today these supposed “progressive” social individuals will video these incidents and put them on unsocial media. Do the colleges and lower educational socialized indoctrination camps have any definitions for those who participate in that type behavior? I have one “Dangerous Unhinged D-Baggery” or D.U.D.–“The act of being weak disrespectful and entitled dirt bags with no honor”.  That’s right punk ass assaulters and videorers, I’m calling you out. You are DUDs. DUDs in life, DUDs in Society, DUDs in love. You’re defiantly toxic, and about as masculine as a Victoria Secret’s storefront window. Hipsters look at these miscreants and just shake their heads.  Don’t bother applying for your man card, you’re not welcome. Man-cards are earned through earning respect and by giving respect.

I read that many “prestigious” universities in our great country now offer classes on “Toxic Masculinity”. Sadly, I’m sure the brainwashed youth of today will be attending with eager abandon. I have some advice for the so-called “educational” systems and colleges out there. How about a new class on “Being a Man. Instead of having some progressive, social justice warrior, snowflake, socialist agenda driven, out of touch Professor teach it, or having some overpaid, morally scrupulous professional athlete teach, lets change it up. Find respectable, hardworking, men in the community who give back every day. Those who take care of their families and are a positive influence in the world they live in. Some of the things taught could be; opening the doors for ladies, starting a lawn mower, changing a tire, you know, basic life skills. Nobody cares about your weak assed feelings. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Sacrifice for others and toughen up. There are bad guys out there and it’s your job to protect those you care about.   Just think how much money would be saved if we didn’t have to build “safe spaces” and “cry closets” if the school curriculum had a few classes like that.

One more story about my Dad. One summer in the seventies my cousins spent the summer with us. Before they arrived, they stated that they wanted to get jobs as they were going to start college in the fall and jobs on the jersey shore would be fun. My cousins were older than me and their father had passed away a few years earlier, so they had been raised by their mother and grandmother. My Dad became their long distance male role model. My Dad helped where he could, but he knew they needed jobs, as money was going to be tight for the family. They had shoulder length hair, which was the style back then, and my cousins were so proud of that hair. Of course, my Dad hated it and would tell them on a daily basis. Telling them to cut it was useless though, so my Dad just made fun of them. That was his way. My family had an in-ground pool, and my Dad told my cousins that if they had long girl hair they had to wear swim caps, so their hair didn’t clog the filter. The only swim caps my Dad had were frilly 1950’s style with big ridiculous flowers on them. My cousins protested, but my Dad never backed down. After a few days of wearing these caps and looking silly, my cousins went to the barber shop and got crew cuts. Two days later Dad took the boys to a hotel in town where he knew the owner. The hotel was known for paying really well, a lot better than the usual Jersey Shore boardwalk jobs. My cousins were hired, and they enjoyed their summer. My dad knew that money would help them and their family. My Dad also knew the owner hated “Hippie Hair” and didn’t hire any guy with it. I guess that was some tough love psychology on my cousins. My Dad, though not perfect, was a Man and a teacher to future men. I learned from him, and other men I’ve had the privilege of knowing, what being a Man is. To show love and accept love back. To respect others, and to help my community, by sharing what I know. I can only hope I’ve done them proud.

If they want to call that “toxic masculinity”, well so be it, but, I’m sure I could even find a couple of Hipsters with man buns to raise a toast to not giving an F to what they call it. Because we are Men. Hey Hipster Bro, you don’t Toast something like this with Soy Latte. WTF.

Carl Fuerst-The Fuerst Option
RSO, Trainer, Blogger

The Fuerst Option Safety Suggestion

If you carry your firearm or self-defense tool off body, such as backpack or purse, have a designated pocket for just that tool. Also have that tool and a proper holster and have the holster secured to the inside of the pocket. This will assist you in accessing the tool when it is needed, and you will be carrying in a much safer manner. Be careful out there.


EPISODE VI: Do not get C-Locked

I get asked a lot of questions at Royal Range. Questions like; 1. How tall are you? 2. Is that your real hair color?  3. Why would your wife be with you? 4. Is Scott here? And my all-time favorite, 5.  What’s up with you and Jerry?

Here are the short answers to those questions; 1. 6’8” 2. Yes, but if you could buy it, it would be called “Cool Badass Thor”   3. It’s a mystery to everyone, especially me.  4. I don’t know, Jeff.  5. Don’t worry about it.

On the other side of the spectrum comes questions from our customers. I would say that the most frequently asked question from customers is “what’s the best firearm to have”? Since at Royal Range we only sell quality firearms, you really can’t go wrong, but in my humble opinion, you should choose one from a major manufacture with a positive track record.  Your firearms should suit your needs and it should be the right fit for you. You should also find it cool. Just saying.

Another common question is “how do I become, more situationally aware”?

This is an important question, albeit, not always easy to answer. Situational awareness varies from person to person through different lifestyles and surroundings.  For instance, a person travelling to Afghanistan to conduct business is in a much different situation than a person out and about in Downtown Nashville. Despite being worlds apart, there is a principal that connects these two people: The belief and understanding that there are evil people out there and these evil people will do them harm. Without this belief system in place it is very difficult, if not impossible, to spot and avoid dangerous situations because you have your head in the cultural sand.

It is my belief this principal is the most important piece, the foundation, of the defensive, situational awareness mindset. The PC, “my feelings are offended” Crowd has pushed their “don’t ever judge anyone for any reason (unless they disagree with me)” agenda to the point that the practicing of good situational awareness is now offensively wrong, because people could get their feelings hurt. So, these, “I listen to the social justice warrior” crowd (aka Sheeple), put in their earbuds, pull up their hoodie hoods and march into potential oblivion, while they are checking their twitter posts and making sure their selfies show just how much an instrument of the fight against fascists they are. But at least they aren’t hurting anybody’s feelings. Thumbs up, good job, you f-ing knuckle heads.  This is what I call, (Cultural Loss of Consciousness) or (C-LOC) and I believe it to be the biggest threat to our families, our communities, and ourselves.

When I teach Active Aggressor Training or Situational Awareness type training I recommend a book, “The Survivors Club”, by Ben Sherwood. This book chronicles the real stories of everyday people who were involved in different types of potentially deadly situations and how they survived. It tells the stories of the mindset that helped them survive, the mindset, that in some ways, lead them into these situations, and what they learned from these experiences. This book was written through interviewing the actual people involved, and for me, it is an honest, powerful, and educational read.

One story that always stood out to me, was that of a woman who was alone in a sparsely occupied building late at night and was waiting for the elevator. When the elevator door opened, she saw a male inside and he immediately made her feel uncomfortable. She knew something wasn’t right and she was scared. She also felt that it would be rude to not get on the elevator because the man inside might be offended. Against all her better instincts she got on that elevator. She was raped and nearly killed. But for the grace of God she lived to tell, but a hard lesson was learned. Humans are part of the animal kingdom and we are supplied with some similar protective instincts. These instincts are very effective, but only if we don’t ignore them. When Peter Parker feels his Spidey Sense tingling, he doesn’t just sit there drinking his coffee with Mary Jane, thinking to himself,” Isn’t that interesting”. No, he jumps up, throws some cash and cab fare on the table, gets that suit on and gets ready to kick some Doc Oc Ass. Sure Mary Jane gets pissed, but that’s life, she will get over it or she won’t. Don’t get on the elevator. Offend the F*** out of whoever you must to feel safe. Spiderman knows when you sense danger, danger may be coming., DO NOT IGNORE IT! Retrain your brain that it is ok to offend people. It is ok to be rude, especially when your safety is involved.

I’m from New Jersey. I offend at least seven people a day here in Tennessee, and sometimes I’m not even trying to. Rudeness saves lives. I realize that being from New Jersey I have the advantage of not being offended and not caring if I offend those around me. This is a skill that is cultivated all through our formative years. It is a necessary Jersey survival tool that all responsible Jersey Parents teach their kids. We are nice until its time not to be nice. I call it “Tactical Rudeness”. Trust me, it works like a charm. I may be on to something, note to self, pitch “Tactical Rudeness Class” to Art. I think It’s time to take this concept NATIONWIDE. The point is, leaving Mary Jane at the table may be rude, and Mary Jane may be offended, but there are lives in danger, and proper etiquette must be tossed to the side when it’s time to get down to business. If Spiderman can offend MJ and be alright with it, then you can offend some creepy stranger on the street. This concept may in and of itself be offensive to some of you but, I say, “F the creepy stranger on the street”, you and your family’s lives are important than Creepo’s soft assed feelings. Mary Jane always forgives Spiderman. Spiderman recognizes danger. Then Spiderman reacts to that danger. Be like Spiderman.

C-Loc, (Cultural Loss of Consciousness) is a take on the term generally used in aerospace physiology called G-Loc, (Gravitational Loss of Consciousness) where pilots lose consciousness due to exposure to sustained and excessive G Forces. C-LOC is caused by a sustained exposure to political correctness, liberalism, and the general weakening of our entire culture.

People don’t become SHEEPLE because they are inherently stupid, they follow the crowd because it’s trendy. BUT, trendy sucks and trendy is dangerous. Sheeple start to listen to the easily offended yogurt and granola eating dipsters that are so happy to live their blissful unaware lives in a coffee shop, believing that the bad things only happen to others, that they soon begin to believe the same thing. Cultural indoctrination camps, (IE colleges and educational systems) teach fairness, tolerance, and everybody wins because they participated. They seem to promote tolerance and diversity in all things, except diversity of thought. If you don’t believe this, browse the internet for video on the recent school walkouts. Many of these walkers seemed united in using this event to get a school sanctioned day off. While others were united in tearing down American flags and damaging police vehicles. What I failed to see, was very much honoring of those poor people killed by some demonic monster. The policies put in place to stop these incidents either failed due to lack of implementation, or the policies themselves were ineffective. But, only one side of the argument was represented, the side of having armed good guys in the building to stop the bad guys seemed to be demonized. Some schools reportedly suspended students who did not participate in the walkout simply because they did not want to be part of what they believed to be a political social agenda they did not agree with. I heard from friends with children in the local school system, that their children were bullied for not participating. True tolerance in action, right there. This is C-Loc in action, group think that focus on symptoms of the problem, instead of the solution. Metal detectors, locked doors., gun free zone signs, anti- bullying programs, background checks and armed police officers were all in place and this did not stop anything. Why? Because the human element failed. No mention of that in these walkouts. Why? Because in my opinion, the culture, drives these school administrations to force the police and security leaders to water down response and bend to political correctness. Sometimes there is no response at all. It’s sad, dangerous, and deadly. This is why they go along with blaming the gun, there are many instances when guns stopped these murderous rampages before they could get started. No mention of these situations, I guess they didn’t fit the agenda. These political correctness/anti- gun warriors seem to be constantly given the loudest voices, in the struggle to keep these school children safe. Why? They use every excuse to avoid the obvious, we need more good guys with weapons. Taking security advice from these people, is like asking a vegan how to grill a steak.

I’ve been given a voice. Perhaps my voice is small, but with that voice I want to do what I can to prevent the totally preventable. To awaken people to the danger of the SHEEPLE/ VICTIM mentality. Forget the crowd, the crowd doesn’t care about you and your family, that takes the power of rugged individualism, sometimes you have to stand alone. Be rude when needed, hurt feelings, offend people, trust me, these concepts help save lives. It may be difficult, but nothing of importance is ever easy. But, I believe Tactical Rudeness is the key to breaking the C-LOC. Spread the word. It’s your duty. Be careful and God Bless.

Carl Fuerst-The Fuerst Option
RSO, Trainer, Blogger

The Fuerst Option Safety Suggestion

One especially for the ladies, If you’re out on a first date, or blind date, upon your introductions request to see the gentleman’s drivers license and take a picture on your phone and send it to two trusted friends. Pre plan this and make it show and be obvious and tell the gentleman and what you’re doing. If he is a good guy, he will gladly do it, and probably think it’s a smart idea. If he has a problem with it, you or refuses, he is not a good guy, so leave the date immediately, right after you take his picture and send that, just to ensure you get home safely. It’s the practice of Tactical Rudeness. If you find a love connection, with a good guy, you’ll have a fun story to tell. You can give this advice to daughters, sisters and friends. Be Safe out there.


EPISODE V: A Car Culture Shift

America had always been known for a few things: greatness, badassery, guns, and the car culture. Great movies like Bullitt and Smokey and the Bandit, put the Mustang and Trans Am vehicles out front which made them true icons of American culture. If you are a man and haven’t watched either of these movies, it is a must that you do so or tear up your man card and light that shit on fire. If you are a male Hipster, Millennial, Antifa Member, Social Justice Warrior, Easily Offended and/or work at a Starbucks, these are required movies you must watch… if any of you I just mentioned, ever decide to apply for your man card. The fifty, sixtys and seventies were the muscle car years, big cars with big engines, cruising boulevards or strip mall parking lots showing off these great looking machines with pride. In my opinion, those were the greatest decades of car culture. Off-road trucks and SUV’s tearing up dirt roads and big box store parking lots, their footprints in American culture larger than their huge mudder tires make in an open pasture. The car culture of these modern times is much different. The vehicles are much more technologically advanced, but lack soul. The Asian vehicles of today are excellent in the reliability and gas mileage department, but they don’t actually stir the soul, like an IROC Camaro or Corvette. I can never understand why these car companies cannot bridge these two concepts, “stirring the soul” good looks and new school reliability and technology. I drive a Dodge Durango powered by a 5.7 liter Hemi engine. It sure does bridge the gap of the “holy crap that truck is Badass and has amazing technology.” It gets about three feet to a gallon and it’s too new to gauge its long term reliability, but its fast as a rocket sled on the rails and looks like a beast and makes environmentalists pee themselves. I love that!

Recently, a friend of our family’s son stopped by to show off his new car. His name is Tammeron, I think that name sounds like a spice I’d put on my Christmas Egg Nog, but that’s apparently a name. I have a soft spot for this kid. His Dad left the family for a nineteen year old Waffle House waitress, so when he comes to talk to me, I try to give him support. I get where he’s coming from, I grew up in New Jersey and we didn’t have Waffle Houses but we did have Diners, and our Diners were great. Anyway, my dad had a “friend” named Lola, who was a waitress at the local Diner, who he would spend weekends with from time to time. Lola had a unique look. She was a cross between 1992 Kathy Bates and 2018 Madonna. Lola’s hair was bleached more aggressively than an Abercrombie and Fitch Model’s teeth. That hair was piled ridiculously high, even by Jersey standards. Lola’s hair was higher than Snoop Dog. It took about twelve cans of Aqua Net to hold the shit in place. Lola talked in a Minnie mouse style voice and cursed like a Philadelphia truck driver, all the while snapping her Juicy Fruit Gum like Indiana Jones Snapped his whip. She was a real pleasure. But I digress, I try to spend time with Tammeron, since his dad isn’t around. I try to be there for some man influence. Obviously there was no man influence, during the car buying process, because parked in my driveway was a black Econo car. I didn’t notice it as a car at first, I thought it was a hockey puck souvenir from last night’s Predator’s game. I honestly don’t even know, who the manufacturer was, they all look the same. Tammeron stood next to it smiling proudly asking for my opinion. My true reaction was to fall to my knees and weep in sorrow for the death of Tammeron’s masculinity. I was good though, and saved his feelings. I gave him a thumbs up and said, “Cool ass color”. Tammeron excitedly told me he was capable of getting something like a thousand miles to a gallon. He asked me what he would be capable of getting if he would have bought a Durango. I wanted to say the truth, “The respect of his male peers and girls to date him.” But I just shrugged and said, “You will surely be able to get a parking space in front of an upscale coffee shop.” Tammeron invited me to take a ride, and being the supportive older adult figure, I ran inside and switched out my Sig P320 I was carrying, for my Glock 42, so the weight of the firearm didn’t throw off the vehicles balance, than I jumped in. How did it feel? The initial thought was that the vehicle felt as sturdy as the $19.99 piece of exercise equipment my mom would buy from some television shopping channel. Bought on January first to jump start the new Year’s resolution and broken by February, folded and shoved under the bed, with my old Rockem- Sockem Robots. I closed the door of Tammeron’s car and the rear vew mirror turned all the way to the right and down. It hung there, in defeat like those flying Martian”s eye balls in The War of the Worlds movie.   Tammeron gleefully gunned it and said “I better be careful, I don’t want to get a ticket.” Ticket?? that car couldn’t reach the speed limit if it dropped out of an airplane! Freeway entrance ramps were a far scarier experience, like seeing Rosie O’Donnell in Yoga pants. The whole ride was bumpy, shaky and uninspiring, like experiences I’ve had when I deal with a Y wellness floor manager. My coccyx bone prayed this torture would soon be over; but, he seemed to be enjoying himself and I guess that’s what mattered.

My first car was 1970 Pontiac LeMans. It was gold and had a gas guzzling V8 engine that roared and it burned rubber. Airbags were for space shuttles in those days and your seatbelts were waist belts only. It had an AM/FM radio and the knobs stuck out like Benchmade Knives. Things were less “safety controlled” back then. Everybody who was lucky enough to have a car, it seemed, had something cool. The new cars of the day were too expensive for the High School and Community College kids, which was probably a good thing looking back. The soul was quickly being removed from the new vehicles, where the cool spoilers and other personal accessories, were being replaced by pedestrian square people movers. I believe it was great experiencing the Americana of car culture, hanging out in the parking lot front of the Lincroft Krauzers, drinking large fountain sodas and listening to music blasting out cassette era hair band music from the car speakers, the brown haired beauty, who I just knew would be my wife, was at my side. We would talk about the future and dreams and laugh with our friends. We swore we would hang out like that forever! The friend’s part were pipe dreams of course. Some are lifelong friends, but sadly most friends come in and out of our lives like waiters and waitresses. Like most things, time and life interfere with best intentions. By the grace of God and her monumental patience, I still have that beautiful Brown haired girl, and she is more beautiful each time I look at her.

Although America’s true car culture is a thing of the past, I have found that America’s gun culture is going strong. I look around the Royal Range and I see it as the old parking lots of the past. We have moved indoors and cars have been replaced by guns! Men, women and entire families hanging out in the range showing off their modified pistols, rifles and shot guns. Their weapons painted and accessorized to show their personalities. Good natured ribbing over who’s the better shot and which brand handgun is the most reliable. I’m a retired police officer and I must say that at times I miss being a part of that culture, but I have found a new community of likeminded people. I have made, what I believe, are more lifelong friends here and that makes this place special. I hope there are others who have found similar experiences. These types of experiences always make me feel nostalgic and maybe these changes and swapping out old cultures for new ones isn’t a bad thing. It doesn’t mean that the new culture is better than the old. They’re just different. Cars and Guns are America. They’re both badass ingredients that make up Americana. So perhaps there is hope out there for the American Male and American Badassery……you just have to keep a 1911 on your hip and maybe a Remington 870 in your hatchback. Keep it in the center, remember that vehicle balance.

God bless.

Carl Fuerst-The Fuerst Option
RSO, Trainer, Blogger

The Fuerst Option Safety Suggestion

This is maybe more for men than women given the plumbing situation. Men instead of using the standing urinals, which are usually out in the open, when the need arises, use the stall, and be sure to lock the door. This goes for the ladies also, and if the door has no lock, hold it closed with your hands or feet. Ladies try to make sure your gun is safe and accessible. Being in the stall behind a secure door, gives you an extra layer of protection and a little extra reaction time. So remember- Watch your butt when it’s time to pee.


EPISODE IV: Tough Toys

I was recently cleaning out my basement and came across some of the toys my daughters had as kids. It got me thinking about the toys I had as a kid. The technology of todays toys sure has advanced since I was a kid but, I wonder if they have really gotten better? My generation did not have these high tech video games or electronics, but the toys we did have were tough. They weren’t rechargeable, they took batteries, large heavy D-cell batteries, which were always sold separately, and you never knew that until you got home. I remember my Dad mumbling under his breath about “f-ing batteries” and “for that F-ing price, batteries should be included .” Dad would do this while getting up to take the batteries out of his black metal police flashlight. This happened every time, whenever I think about it, I can hear his voice……t makes me laugh just a little. I remember having disagreements with friends and cousins, it taught you restraint, because hitting somebody with a toy back then could involve a hospital visit, for the recipient. Our toys had the bility to injure us….even through normal play. These toys had heavy metal moving parts that could crush and pinch fingers. Pointy corners and edges sharper than Flagrant Beard knives. Our toys could truly F you up. The toys made kids tough. We didn’t have these visually beautiful worlds or action packed battlefields created in video games. We were forced to create these worlds in our imagination. We would share our imaginary worlds with friends and playmates, and they would do the same. Attacking imaginary enemy strongholds together, with toy guns, going ‘Rat A Tat Tat”, or gun shaped sticks. Afterward we would hang out in a ramshackle fort built out of abandoned  wood and bent nails.  We would sneak tools out of our father’s garages, internally vowing to bring them back, but always losing them and facing Dad’s wrath. Those old school toys forced you to communicate with each other…. to learn about each other and depend on each other. These concepts have seemed to be lacking for quite some time! Our toys gave back. Our toys gave us friendships and memories. I walk through stores today and toy guns are a pretty rare site. Toy guns have been demonized by the “everyone gets a trophy culture”. Take them toy guns away, they make kids violent! The amazing thing is that my generation grew up with toy guns, and I don’t recall any horrible school shootings from that time period. Sadly, the “toy gun grabbing, easily offended generation” can’t say that. I don’t think it’s the toy guns.  I believe those old school toys helped prepare us for a life of critical thinking and expanded imaginations. It’s those mental tools that we use every day that  help sharpen our situational awareness. Critical thinking is important to knowing what danger looks like and how to avoid those dangers. How to react to those dangers. Imagination is important as it helps us imagine what the dangerous people can think up and to have scenarios in place, in our minds, before the crisis happens. The time to plan for a crisis is before the crisis, not during it! It’s extremely difficult to come up with a workable plan while the crisis is occurring.

My Favorite toy ever, was my Evel Knievel, motorcycle riding, action figure. This action figure was based on an actual American Icon of the seventys, motorcycle stunt sportsman, Evel Knievel. Evel was a living example of the American Spirit. He would do incredible stunts, jumping his Harley Davidson motorcycle over obstacles that were completely insane. Evel Knievel would be dressed head to toe in red, white and blue. He was the Elvis of stunt cycling.  Evel probably crashed more times than he stuck his landings and was rumored to have broken every bone in his body at least once. Evel attempted to jump the Snake River Canyon in 1974. He attempted this jump in a rocket shaped vehicle called a Skycycle X-2, just the name of this thing is cool as F. The Skycycle had an open Indy car style cockpit and was powered by steam. F-ing steam! WTF??  It was like an old west locomotive.! This was a major event and was televised live on the Wide World of Sports. The attempt was not successful, but what I took away from the footage of the Skycycle plummeting into the canyon, and the subsequent retrieval of Evel, was this…..he Skycycle itself had a parachute attached to it, much like a parachute on the back of a funny car. Evel on the other hand wore no parachute at all. What a set of balls! All these X Game weirdos with their dreadlocks, lip rings and skull tatts, probably don’t even know the name Evel Knievel. That’s sad, because without Evel Knievel their sport probably wouldn’t exist. Evel Knievel passed away on November 30th 2007, but he inspired millions of dumb kids like myself, to jump over garbage cans on our Huffy bikes. It was no surprise that a toy was built in honor of one of the toughest dudes ever, but, the toy would have to be tough as well. It did not disappoint. This toy was badass, tough and grizzled. The only motorcycle dude tougher than my Evel Knievel Toy is our own J.D. riding around town on his Harley Trike, Glock on his hip and wearing his biker vest over a Royal Range Tee-Shirt. By the way J.D. if you’re reading this, your rain suit is in.  Action figure Evel Knievel could kick a Hipster’s ass. Understand what I’m saying here. I’m not talking about a Hipster –Action figure. I’m talking about an actual living, coffee-drinking, house dwelling, Hipster. Here’s how the toy worked: you would attach the bendy Evel figure onto the Motorcycle, then hook it up to the revving machine and thenou would then turn the wheel handle as fast as you could. This would rev up the motorcycle motor and it would release from the gear wheel, sending the motorcycle and Evel across the room, at a relatively incredible rate of speed. This amazingly strong, plastic and metal toy would slam off of walls, table legs, siblings and parents, causing damage to everything it hit! Your brother would limp into the kitchen, crying to mom, with a small motorcycle handlebar shaped laceration on his ankle. The toy always suffered zero damage. I sent my Evel off ramps which would send the motorcycle ten feet into the air and watched it crash to the ground. I literally sent this motorcycle with Evel, left hand above his head in victory, off the roof of my house and watched it crash onto the driveway. The toy suffered minor scratches, but worked just fine. Evel Knievel and its motorcycle worked every time on everything, indoors, outdoors, wood floors, carpet, concrete, dirt, gravel, grass, it never stopped working. It was the Glock of toys! As the years went by, I lost track of my Evel Knievel. It was lost to adulthood and time. Time is the ultimate thief. The older I get, the more evident that is. As I write this, I am in another transition period of my life. This week my oldest daughter moved into her own apartment and my youngest daughter turned twenty. They are wonderful, smart, caring and beautiful young women. They get all those traits from their mother. I understand it’s the job of the parent to raise their children to eventually move on and start their own lives, and I’m proud and grateful to God, to have been given the privilege to have been a part of it all. I’m proud of them both. But, I’m still a little sad that they had to grow up. I sometimes wish I could go back in time, even for just a little while, and have my little girls back. I know that’s impossible. I wonder if I got my hands on an old Evel Knievel toy, could I get two adult daughters and a wife, to build a ramp and play with an old action figure with their old man? It’s worth a try, now I need a Hipster to help me get on EBAY.

God bless.

Carl Fuerst-The Fuerst Option
RSO, Trainer, Blogger

The Fuerst Option Safety Suggestion

When in a dark room and using a flashlight, instead of pointing the light out in front of you to search and clear the room, try this trick, point the flashlight beam up to the ceiling. The light will bounce off the ceiling and light up the room like a fifteen watt bulb. Be safe out there.


EPISODE III: The Hollywood Cesspool

I love movies and scripted television shows. Well, I used to anyway. I especially love action movies. I cut my teeth on the old school cop shows and movies like Starsky and Hutch (70s TV show, not that crap movie), S.W.A.T., Dirty Harry, Chuck Norris, Die Hard, all that stuff. True good guy heroes, none of these conflicted, half social justice warriors, blaming themselves for society’s ills.

The cops on today’s television shows are portrayed as being as bad as the criminals themselves; drinking and drugging on the job, doing illegal shit. This is what you get when you have writers from depraved Hollywood, projecting their warped beliefs onto heroic occupations like police, first responders and the military. In almost all of today’s shows the terrorist villain is an American military guy or law enforcement member with some grievance. Today’s shows have the military guys covering up some evil plot hatched by their special operations unit, who went rogue. It’s nonsense. It’s worse than nonsense, it’s garbage! Message to Hollywood, “The good guys don’t go around purposefully killing innocent people, that would be the bad guys.” Then again, it’s not like anyone in that town has the balls to portray the truth (half of them had them removed!).

All this bullshit is propaganda, and I’m sick of it! I’ve been pretty much straight and narrow my whole life. No drugs and rarely alcohol. To this day, I’ve never even smoked…and I grew up in the seventies and eighties! Hell, just about everybody at least smoked! The portrayal of true heroes with American values that I watched on Television and in the Movies, guided me, especially during my impressionable years. My views and my support of law enforcement were not always viewed favorably by my peers but, I drew strength from My Celluloid Heroes. I knew where I stood, and I knew there were others out there, who were also standing for similar values. To this day, I hope it’s clear where I stand, if not, I’m not saying it loud enough.

One of my favorite action stars has always been Chuck Norris. I always knew where Chuck Norris stood. It was usually on some dirt bags neck. My dad also loved Chuck Norris. Besides his family, my dad didn’t love all that much. He also loved Torrington 100 cigarettes, hot dogs, Ronald Reagan, The New York Mets, S&W Handguns, and this place called “The Gentleman’s Club”. Dad said it was a dance hall, but I wasn’t allowed to go. Apparently neither was mom. She hated that place. I guess mom wasn’t into “dancing”. My dad went a lot. Apparently, he could really cut a rug… But, I digress. When I was growing up, the police and military characters I watched, were portrayed as true good upstanding heroes. They were inspiring. They inspired me. It’s sad knowing what we know now about the depraved and horrific goings on in Hollywood. Is it any wonder these dirt bags don’t know what true heroes are? How can they write about them?

What I have noticed, is that the films and shows, where the heroes are depicted as brave, hardworking, and compassionate, seem to be based on true stories. Movies such as, 13 Hours, Dunkirk, and Patriots Day, were excellent films, with minimal “Hollywood hates all things Americana” themes running through them.

I’m sick of this bullshit, and apparently so is America. Movie ticket sales are down at least twenty percent. While the fact that Hollywood pumps out crap faster and more efficiently than a sewer plant, I’m sure these preachy actors and self-proclaimed celebrities haven’t helped. The genital hat wearing inhabitants of the morally bankrupt Hollywood Culture have some balls, pun intended, preaching to us about morality. The Hollywood culture seems to sit by on their collective hands, while some creepy F’ers sexually harass and abuse women. What a disgrace! These dirt bags don’t deserve to make movies about heroes. You should be heroic or at least understand what it means to have courage, before you make stories about heroes. I’ve known many men and women in the police, first responder and military communities, and I tell you this, none of them would sit by and let some dirt bag abuse women and children, and then joke about it on award shows. Not the people I’ve come to know and respect! These men and women stand up to evil and push the cowards out of their way.

Abusers suck, bullies suck and all of them should be stood up to. I believe it’s time for shows and movies to depict these men and women as the hero’s they really are, battling real terrorists and real evil doers. I believe that America is craving these types of movies that celebrate the brave heroic values that make America the greatest nation the World has ever known. These Hollywood dirt bags apparently don’t have the moral compass or the stones to make movies like that anymore. If I lived in that demon culture, I’d hate the police too! Sadly, Hollywood and the entertainment industry often drive the culture. To water down the true purveyors of evil and give them some moral relevance to the people that fight them, is not only disrespectful to the brave but it is dangerous to the citizens in the culture you are influencing. There are bold lines between good and evil, make no mistake, the good people understand that. The good and informed people try to teach and make the uninformed aware. It’s our duty to shine light on evil. This concept is apparently lost on Hollywood.

Now that the curtain has been pulled back on Hollywood’s culture of corruption, it may be difficult to believe that there are any stand up people left. It’s hard to believe there is anybody left in Hollywood with the moral capacity to understand goodness and what it takes to stand up to real evil. Unfortunately, many times people are a product of the company they keep, but I believe there are good people left in the entertainment industry. I must believe it, I must have hope. Hope is what this is all about! Preserving the future. The television and movie industry drive the culture. Apparently, many people driving the culture engine are creepy as F@#%!

There is a culture war going on in America. Anarchists and snowflake “social justice warriors” wage war by blocking roads, marching and wearing hoodies and masks tearing down traditional American values. Patriots protest with their wallets, and many movie theater seats are empty. That’s sending a positive message. Maybe it’s working a little and maybe Hollywood is getting the message. A positive sign, the new movie 12 Strong, is coming out in January. This movie is based on the true story of the American Special Forces, Horse Soldiers in Afghanistan in the early days of the War on Terror. I’m calling all fellow Patriots to go out and support this movie. Let’s send another message. We want movies and television about heroes that fight real evil.  Maybe the Hollywood cesspool can be drained right out the same sewer plant their shitty movies come out of.

God bless.

Carl Fuerst-The Fuerst Option
RSO, Trainer, Blogger

The Fuerst Option Safety Suggestion

Remember everybody, when you are out and about try to pay a little more attention to your surroundings and the people in your surroundings, and a little less attention to your cell phone. The bad guys are watching you, be sure to be watching out for them.

Dramatic Drop in Law Enforcement Officer Deaths in 2017, I wonder why?

EPISODE II: Dramatic Drop in Law Enforcement Officer Deaths in 2017, I wonder why?

Well, well, well… There was a dramatic drop in law enforcement officer deaths in 2017. This year ranked second lowest for the number of law enforcement officer deaths in the past fifty years. The lowest ever was in 2013. I would like to say this is a surprising development, but it is not surprising to me at all. Sadly, there were 128 officers killed in the line of duty this year and that is 128 too many. My heart breaks for their families, but the fact that law enforcement officer deaths are down, is encouraging.

I attribute this development to a both a change in our country’s top leaders and these leader’s attitudes in support of law enforcement. This support has appeared to bolster the country’s support of law enforcement in the past year. The police are no longer portrayed as the villains, as they regularly have been in the past few years. I am a retired law enforcement officer and I unapologetically support law enforcement. Not bad law enforcement officers. Not the rare, and I mean rare, power abusers that are out there and always make the news. I’m talking about the hardworking men and women, who do the right thing, on a daily basis, risking their lives for the people in their communities, even for the people who hate and vilify them. I doubt the police haters, would ever have the balls or temperament to do the job law enforcement officers do every day under such stressful and dangerous conditions.

Why is this cultural change important to us as a country and a community? How do these cultural changes make us all feel safer? Here’s my theory: When the country is reminded that attacks on law and order will not be ignored, and anarchy will not be tolerated, the culture becomes less violent. Perhaps the good people are a little less on edge, including the police, who begin to feel support from the community. The good law abiding members of the community feel safe walking the streets and attending events. The law breaking anarchists begin to feel less emboldened, and lose interest.  For instance, what has happened to Antifa and all these other anarchist type groups that seemed to be marching every weekend, over the past few years, turning violent and destructive, often with impunity?

Some community’s political leaders have actually told the police to stand down and give these violent criminals areas to destroy. Police departments handing out hot cocoa to anarchists blocking roads and endangering the communities they are assigned to protect? Sounds like the politicians can’t have their anarchist supporters being left out in the cold! Their idea? –> Let’s use the city’s tax dollars to buy cocoa and blankets for these A-HOLES, what a disgrace! The way the winds of political change are blowing now, I get the feeling that shit like that is no longer going to be tolerated. I also get the feeling that these so called “Badass” anarchists have got the same feeling. I guess the D-Bags who rioted in DC at the Presidential Inauguration last January being charged federally and facing ten years in prison was a swift kick to their non-existent balls. Apparently, there are consequences to your actions. Public school restorative justice policies are a myth in the real world.

And let’s talk about irony… The best is these idiots broke windows at a Starbucks. Isn’t that the unofficial club house of these morons?  They also destroyed and burnt a limo of a Muslim Immigrant, who was actually contributing to his community, unlike these uninformed and stupid sheeple in black hoodies and masks.  Where are they now? Have they have disappeared, given up, like a personal trainer assigned to a six-hundred-pound lifer? Gone like evil clown sightings? Gone like the buffet table contents in front of Michael Moore? These group sightings and movements have become as sparse as filled seats in an NFL stadium. You know where they are? They’re hiding, like the bitches they are. Their upper support has gone away, and the real spirit of the American People is roaring back into style.

We want to succeed and make this country a safe and productive place for our families and everybody in our communities. The culture is changing, and while there is hope, there are still evil and dangers out there. Be vigilant, be prepared, and spread the word of the necessity of situational awareness. There is still a lot to do. But, to all my fellow Active and Retired Brothers and Sisters in Law Enforcement, know this:  You have many of us in the community that love, support, and pray for your safety every day. I’m sure I speak for many when I say, THANK YOU!

To all the recovering sheeple, so called “social justice warriors”, and presently confused anarchists out there… get some knowledge, get out from behind the computer, get out from behind the espresso machine, get a girlfriend or boyfriend and get out from your parent’s basement. Join in the movement to rebuild a culture of Americana where we all succeed and live peaceful lives, and fight real evil when necessary. Keep your man buns and skinny jeans, I’m not asking you to go cold turkey, ease into this slowly, and just give it a try. To those that are sticking to the anarchist ways, America will still protect your right to do so, but, that violent shit is a thing of the past, like your Hipster vinyl records. We will still try to drag you with us, towards the light and across the finish line of prosperity. Hell, we will drag you guys with your heels dug in, the more the merrier, even Michael Moore if he wants to give it a try. If we have to drag him, we may need a deuce-half with operational tow hooks.

God bless.

Carl Fuerst-The Fuerst Option
RSO, Trainer, Blogger



Well, the new year is approaching and so are the obligatory new years’ resolutions. Every year we make the same old resolutions; saving money, stop smoking, and losing weight are the standard fare. Let’s face it, while these are all well-meaning intentions, the resolve to carry out these behavioral changes disappear faster than a plate of baked ziti in front of Rosie O’Donnell or Michael Moore. (I get those two confused sometimes, but who doesn’t.)

These resolutions are on a shakier foundation than the moral clauses in a professional athlete’s contract. Hey, we try, but pizza is fantastic. They say nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, except pizza. Pizza groin kicks skinny, and beats in skinny’s face with a Negan bat. Let’s face it, keeping that kind of commitment up is hard.

Maybe the problem is that we must build up to the tough ones by starting with some easy ones as a jumping off point, and work upwards. I have some here that seem easy. As a matter of fact, these should be easy to accomplish resolutions that also make complete sense.


  • Cut off the Man Bun.
  • Don’t grow a Man Bun.
  • Shave off your 1865 style beard.
  • Don’t grow an 1865 style beard in the first place, dipster
  • If you’re over thirty, quit the barista job, unless you own the barista, you are doing a college kids job, “Treavor.”
  • The over thirty rules also counts for wearing concert tee-shirts, however, this does not apply to the ladies.
  • Stop wearing skinny jeans.
  • Burn above referenced skinny jeans.
  • Bend the bill of your hat and take off the stickers and price tag.
  • The bill of the cap goes in the forward direction.
  • Put down the comic books, there are ladies out there.
  • Cut down on the computer porn, there are ladies out there, real ones.
  • Start looking for a lady to share your life with.
  • If you are thirty and clubbing every night looking for a lady, change your tactics.
  • Find yourself a lady, love her with all your soul, treat her with respect, and be thankful she is even with your goofy fidget spinner ass.


If you are ready, start looking for a good man to share your life with. The guy may not be the dude with the best abs but perhaps you should broaden your horizons a little. Or encourage your dipster beta male friend to work on unbitching himself, and be the man you need.

  • If you are clubbing every night, and you are thirty and unmarried, but want to be married, change up your tactics. Perhaps less Honky Tonk, more Church, just saying.
  • Stop watching the “Bachelor”. (Is that crap seriously still on?)
  • Stop watching “Greys Anatomy”. (Is that crap still going too?)
  • Stop watching “This is Us”. (Seriously, is all tv just crap these days?)
  • If your current or future boyfriend enjoys watching any of these shows with you, or God forbid, without you, you have a girlfriend. Seriously, stop watching this stuff immediately.
  • Be more Martina McBride and less Chelsea Handler. Better yet, no Chelsea Handler. She should really just go away.

The man in your life should love you, respect you, put himself between you and a bullet, have a gun, and know how to use it. If he doesn’t meet this criterion, move on.

This time of year, makes me think of my Dad, he treated all his new female relationships, like a New Year’s Resolution, All full of great intentions, but no real commitment, past February. All my Seasonal Mothers hated that about him.

I believe in the hope and excitement of a New Year and I’m excited about my own continuing life journey, my resolution to be a better husband, father, and friend. To love deeper, hug tighter, forgive easier, work toward inner peace, and peaceful existence for my family and community. To assisting in the teaching of awareness and the ways of the gun.

So, for all my brothers and sisters praying for peace but preparing for something else, Royal Range USA is here for you. Come on out, all are welcome. Ladies, gentlemen, all are welcome and needed on this path. To the Dipsters, come out and start the New Year off with a bang and learn to use a gun. Who knows, you do that, and the Times Square Ball won’t be the only balls dropping.

Happy New Year,

God bless,

Carl Fuerst-The Fuerst Option
RSO, Trainer, Blogger