Caleb Lash, Author at Talking Guns

Every day Carry Wise

The Car Culture shifts some gears.

America had always been known for a few things, greatness, badassery, guns and car culture. Great movies like Bullet 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 fifties, sixties 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 tech. I drive a Dodge Durango powered by a5.7 liter Hemi. It sure does bridge the holy crap that truck is Badass and the tech. 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 curry, if I ate the kind of shit, but that’s apparently passes for a name these days. 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 for 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, these “style” vehicles all seem to 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 X-Einstein, my Glock 19X 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 and the $19.99 piece of exercise equipment, my mom would buy from some television shopping channel. Bought on January first to jump start the resolution and broken by February, folded and shoved under the bed, with my old Rockem- Sockem Robots. I closed the door and the Rear View mirror turned all the way to the right and down. It hung there, in defeat like those flying Martians 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, car couldn’t reach the speed limit if it dropped out of an airplane. Freeway entry ramps were scarier experience, than 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 Le’ Mans. It was gold and had a gas guzzling V8 engine that roared and burned rubber. Airbags were for space shuttles in those days and your seat belts were waist belts only. It had an AM/FM radio and the knobs stuck out like Krudo Knives. Things were less safety controlled back then. Everybody who was lucky enough to have a car, it seemed they had something cool. The new cars of the day were too expensive for the High School and Community College kid, which was probably a good thing looking back. The soul was quickly being removed from the new vehicles, where the cool spoilers and personality vehicles, 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 car speakers, the brown haired beauty, who I just knew would be my wife, 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, 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 patients 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 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 at 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 like-minded people. I have made what I believe 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 that the old. Their 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.

The Option Every Day Carry Wise 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 six, when you are going number one.

The Option

Every Day Carry Wise

Tough Toys

I was recently cleaning out my basement and came across some of the toys my daughters had as kids. I it got me thinking about the toys I had as a kid. The technology of today’s 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 the F-ing prices batteries should supplied.” 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; it 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 capability 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 commando 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 by 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 ramshackle forts built out of found wood and nails. We would sneak tools out of our father’s garages internally vowing to bring them back, but always losing them and facing Dads wrath. Those old school toys forced you to communicate with each other. To learn about each other, even learn the importance to a good friend and depend on each other. These concepts seem to be lacking importance in our society these days. 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 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 and 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 seventies, 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 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. The 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 athletes 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 30^th 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 dudes tougher than my Evel Knievel Toy is Kovacks and the boys riding to Shot Show on their bikes. Kovacks riding low, Wilson Combat Beretta attached to his hip. 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 house dwelling Hipster. Here’s how the toy worked, you would attach the bendy Evel figure onto the Motorcycle and then hook it up to the revving machine. You 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 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. Last week I helped move my oldest daughter into her new house and my youngest daughter turns twenty one and is in the final semester of college, on her way to getting her teaching degree. I’m proud of them and they are further along in life, than I was at their age. 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. 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 Evel Knievel Action Figure could I get two adult daughters and a wife, to build a ramp and have good old Evel and jump over some stuff and hang out with their old Dad. I think it’s worth a try. Now all I need is have somebody to help me get on EBAY.

The Option Every Day Carry Wise 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. Give it a try. Be safe out there.

The Fuerst Option

X-Einstein Rules

We go together like- Crockett and Tubbs, Murtaugh and Riggs, SJW’s and Commie thoughts, I mean we just fit. What am I talking about? I’m talking about X-Einstein and I, of course. Who is X-Einstein? X-Einstein is my 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 to become the Army’s 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 and it 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. Life Coaching advice, if you are thirty or older and don’t have to take your kids to Star War movies, and you are in that movie theater, on opening night wearing a Han Solo t-shirt, it may be time to rethink your life direction. There are girls out there, just saying. I digress, since the 19X is a sort of Frankenstein Gun; I named mine, “X-Einstein”. That’s right I name my stuff. I gave myself the call sign, The Option, as it is whom the F I am. I explained this to my lovely wife, “Che-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, Che-Nobyl lovingly stated, “I think it’s time I look for a BETTER OPTION.”You cannot by that type of enthusiasm. I thought it appropriate to name my Badass bright orange Subaru Crosstrek “ The Option Response Vehicle. (See Above Pic) That Crosstrek is so amazingly Badass you couldn’t hide its greatness even if you used camo netting. My gold Honda Pilot “Bug out” vehicle is named “The Golden Beast”. I name stuff, that’s the shit I do. So The Option’s Glock 19X is now known as the call sign X-Einstein. X-Einstein 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-Einstein 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 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 before mentioned Black Eagles to the various world distribution centers. X-Einstein 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 you. At least it will be obvious 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-Einstein match grade barrel makes my shooting more accurate than Phil Valentine’s assessment of Liberals Trump Derangement Syndrome.

I heard people say that The 19X is difficult to conceal carry. I have not found this to be the case. I take X-Einstein 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, but carry X-Einstein everywhere and have zero issues.

For example, X-Einstein 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 they were too lazy to put one up. The occupants looked like they were a Hybrid Antifa/Vegan Cheer Squad, holding a strategy for Anarchy meeting. It was a strange collection of bad Anime Tattoos, wild color hair, face piercings and wool caps which are worn indoors,at all times. I was wearing Jeans, Black Tee 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 looked like Slender Man with a purple colored buzz cut/faux hawk, 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” “Where The F you been?” in my usual cheerful tone. 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 called to him 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 tear 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 wineglass into a Ninja blender. I turned to find the 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’s an honor to have Shrek’s Wife Fiona in our fine city.” In all honesty, she wasn’t green, she was more the orangish 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?” “Of course, 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 cow this blazer came from. My blazer has first name is W.I.L.S.O.N.” I then tried to mend the fences and said “I’m surprised you don’t like leather it seems to have a similar texture to your face.” Fiona Then pulled some words from 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 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. And 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 soy milk chai tea, or whatever these they drink. So Mission Accomplished. You Aholes can keep your coffee, and in true Jersey Fashion I flipped the room the Double Barreled Bird turned and walked out. I was ready to head to Dunkin Donuts, Fairly Cop Friendly, when a young lady with a “Jen” on her name tag carrying a to go cup and a little bag of creamers. Jen 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 Police Officer 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 and all it was a good day. I got to Trigger some crybaby SJW’s , I met a young lady who made feel pretty good that there are still some really sweet people out there and not all hope for the future and my quest, to spread the word, of the importance of Every Day Carry Wisdom and Awareness, I got some free coffee, and most of all I got to spend some quality time with X-Einstein. I also learned a real good situational awareness lesson, I wasn’t expecting, My Subaru Crosstrek seamlessly blended into the urban East Nashville Hipster landscape. Who would have thought?

I guess along with my abilities such as picking an Awesome Wife and picking Awesome Guns, I must add my ability to picking Awesome Rides to the list. All this and I still remain humble. Wow. I really am The Option.

TFO Safety Suggestion- I tend to make fun of Antifa and groups and their ilk, 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 are held in the streets of cities and towns, causing non-involved members of the community to potentially be injured. I suggest stay up on what’s going on in your communities and if you know there protests or similar events planned, avoid those areas, especially if you are going out with your children. Stay vigilant and stay alert. Be careful out there.

By the Option

My Dads Coffee

Everybody seems to be into coffee these days. It annoys me, because it’s like it’s a trendy Hipster thing now. I’ve been drinking coffee my whole life. My dad would give me coffee every morning, before dropping me off at the Kindergarten bus stop. I would have my thermos full of inspiration hanging with my friend Tony, who would be smoking a Tarrington 100, while the rest of the pack, was in the front pocket of Tony’s Sears Tough Skin jeans. The jeans were called tough skins, and they were held up with a belt. Your underpants didn’t show, if they did show you where rightfully laughed at. The only quasi acceptable reasons your underpants could show where the following, you were a little slow or you were struck by a car while riding your bike and the Paramedics were working on you. My Dad made great coffee. My Dad Liked his coffee liked he liked his women, Dark and Full bodied, like a Goth Rosie O’Donnell eating a feathered Raven. Coffee that was Strong and bold, the exact opposite of the Antifa Males. My Dads coffee was thicker than a professional Twerker. My Dads coffee would put these trendy coffee shop dwellers in the hospital. The Soy Sippers would have their girlfriends stolen away by a Cup of My Dads coffee. What I’m saying here is, after one sip of my Dads coffee the chicks would fall in love with its strength a rather date the actual cup of coffee than their current Soy boyfriends. I truly believe these Knuckleheads would lose their chicks to a cup of My Dads F-ing coffee. Full disclosure, I still love coffee and If I’m out, I may have my wife, the lovely Cher-Nobyl, I call her that because she is HOT and Deadly, run into the Starbucks and pick me up a cup of the old SJW Juice, hold the almond milk. I don’t go in, because I don’t want my friends to see in there. I feel much the same way about being seen in a Smart Car or a Mazda Miata.

Look, as time goes on and you guys get to know me, it may seem that I pick on C.S.D.C. The Coffee Shop Dweller Crowd an awful lot. well, maybe I do, but I do it with love and hope in my heart. I want to bring them into the tent of awareness and give them some wisdom. Truth be told, the group born between the Mid- Nineteen Nineties and the Mid Two Thousands have a lot to offer society. They are bright and very technologically savvy people; their problem is they have been psychologically weakened over time by the culture around them. The culture and society haven’t done them any favors. I’ve learned one important thing over my years that is universally true to everyone. Bad things are coming for us. Whether it be sadness, hard times sickness, death, its coming to all of us sooner or later, in varying degrees or ways. If you live your life and embrace it, live for others and not just yourself, tragedy and sadness is coming sooner or later. Many of us know this already. No matter if it’s just the living of life or you’re forced to defend yourself against some evil lurking around the corner, you have to be mentally tough. If not, you not are going to make it through. The head in the sand is not going to work my Homies, I’m sorry. If your offended by songs, movies, Toxic masculinity (whatever that is), cursing, etc. These maybe signs you have to toughen up a little. Here is a Tactical Rudeness lesson right here. Write this down- Nobody Cares That YOU Are OFFENDED. There no charge for that Life Coach Lesson. Hear this Dwellers! we need you under the Awareness Tent, with all our differences we can still work together to protect ourselves and communities against the Bad Guys that are out there. That’s what we also have in common, the bad guys out there, are ready to prey on all of us. That my Homies is where all the good decent people merge onto the same road. See commonality, the good win by looking out for each other. Let’s look for things we can agree on, build a foundation on that and work out the other stuff as we move forward. Let’s look at the many contributions the Dweller Crowd has made to our society already and find more commonality, for instance, here are a few. Lumberjack style beards on guys who have to pay someone to Blow leaves off their four by eight patch of condo front lawn(helping the economy), Skinny jeans being worn by men.( have to say, they would sure keep an in the waist band holster in place), Man buns. I got nothing, Safe spaces, where else can full- grown adults, go and use crayons and coloring books when they get upset( But, you add a steel door and heavy door frame ,now you have a safe room/safe space), See with a little compromise I’m bringing us together. How about Chai Tea and Coffee with whipped cream and sprinkles, Tofu pizza, soy ice cream, kale non-dairy milkshakes, Cinnamon swirl, hot pepper and pineapple beer, with kiwi and mandarin orange garnish. I know what you are saying, a lot of shit sucks, and you would be right, but, they are contributions to society and there were some positives to a few. For the love of F—K, I’m trying here. The important thing is we keep trying to find things that bring us good all together, we have are differences, but we all want to be safe and be capable of protecting ourselves and loved ones, so lets work together.

So that’s my plan, my journey in all this, bust the Dweller crowd’s balls, but know they mostly good hearted people, just like the crew I run with. We just have our shit together. See I can’t help myself, if it makes you feel any better I bust my friends and loved ones balls also, but I do it because I love them, and I do it with love and admiration in my heart. And, They bust mine right back. Its fun and we laugh and it brings us together. That’s always my plan, trust me, it always works. I also have to except that things are just different now. I was in a coffee shop the other day doing some writing and watching Fox News on my laptop. I was approached by some salted caramel and lavender coffee drinking Dweller who looked at my computer, and said in a whiney judgmental voice, “Why do you watch that? Did your parents drop you as a child?” Yes, I answered, they did drop me when I was a baby, over and over, Head first into a pool of Awesomeness and Badassery, and coffee. While you my Dweller friend, it appears you stumbled into a puddle of soy milk and Punkman tears, so move on. Dweller boy had nothing to say, he just ran straight for the coloring books.

Every Day Carry Wise Chronicles

Do not get C-Locked

One of the most often questions asked of me is what’s the best firearm to carry? This is a difficult question to answer, as there are many variable to consider. My stock generic answer and my humble opinion is, you should choose one from a major manufacture, with a positive track record. It should suit your needs and it should be the right fit for you. You should also find it cool, I’m just saying. Another common question is how do I become, more situational aware? This is an important question and one that is also not always easy to answer. This can also vary person to person through lifestyle and surroundings. For instance, a person on business in Afghanistan is in a much different situation than a person out in Downtown America. There is a principal that connects these two different people in two different environments and that is the following- The belief and understanding that there are evil people out there and these evil people will do you harm. Without this belief system in place it will be very difficult if not impossible to spot and avoid dangerous situations. This is because you have your head in the cultural sand. It is my belief that this principal is the most important piece of the defensive situational awareness concept. It is the foundation. The PC Culture has brainwashed the populace out there, that the practicing of good situational awareness is wrong, because people could be offended. So these, I listen to the social justice warrior crowd “Sheeple” Put in there ear buds, pull up their hoodie hoods and march into potential oblivion, while they check their twitter posts. But at least they aren’t hurting any body’s feelings. Thumbs up, good job, you f-ing Knuckle Heads. This is what I call, (Cultural Loss of Consciousness) or (C-LOC). This is what I believe 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 two books, Sheep No More: The Art of Awareness and Attack Survival by Jonathan Gilliam and The Survivors Club, by Ben Sherwood. These books are honest, powerful and educational reads and are must haves in your Every Day Carry Wisdom toolbox.

One story in Survivors club, which 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, that the man inside might be offended. Against all her better instincts she got on that elevator, and was raped and nearly killed. 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 gets 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 who you have to, to feel safe. Spiderman knows when you sense danger; some danger may be coming, and DO NOT IGNORE IT! Retrain the brain that it is ok to offend people. It is ok to be rude, especially if 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 an advantage, I myself can’t be offended and I do not care, if I offend others, if it is warranted. This is skill that is cultivated all through our formative years. It is a necessary Jersey survival tool that all responsible Jersey Parents should 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, and pitch “Tactical Rudeness Training Seminars to Brian. 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 has to be tossed to the side when it’s time to get down to business. If Spiderman can offend MJ, and be alright with it, than you can offend some creepy stranger on the street. This may Offensive to some people, but, I say, F the creepy stranger on the street, you and your families lives are more important than some strangers 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 and the weakening of our entire culture.

We are on the beginning of a journey ladies and gentleman. The Option, Talkingguns and all of you reading this, all the visitors to this site, are on this new journey together. I want to be a guide to show you a path and perhaps a different way of viewing the culture and the world around you. I hope to get you to start looking at how your Every Day Carry Wisdom fits into your piece of everyday lifestyle. My Mission is to assist you on further developing your Personal Incident Preparedness Lifestyle for how you live. 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, sometimes you have to stand alone. Remember taking personal security advice from Sheeple one of the crowd culture, is like taking advice from a vegan on how to grill a streak. 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.

The Fuerst Option Safety Suggestion- One especially for the ladies, if you’re out on a first date, or blind date or you just meet someone while you are out. Upon your introductions request to see the gentleman’s driver’s 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, or refuses, he is not a good guy, so leave the date immediately, right after you take his picture of his face and send that. This should make the guy in question; think twice about doing anything creepy, his picture is out there. This just helps to further 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.