“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 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.

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