Firearms

I don’t consider myself a “gun nut,” but rather a husband, father, and hunter who owns the firearms my family and I genuinely need for defense, sport, and tradition.

Banks shouldn’t be allowed to play politics with people’s livelihoods, and Trump’s executive order slamming the brakes on debanking is the first real shot fired in the fight to keep America’s financial system free from partisan chokeholds.

The Winchester .30-30 isn’t fancy, it isn’t flashy, but like a good ranch hand, it shows up every time and gets the job done without complaint.

In Murfreesboro, Barrett and its parent NIOA are pouring concrete on a “factory of the future” that turns Tennessee grit into long-range firepower and real jobs.

If you’re staring down multiple armed intruders at 4 AM, the AR-15’s accuracy, low recoil, and 30-round capacity could be the deciding factors that keep you and your family alive.

That M60 didn’t shoot — it roared, like it had a vendetta against the atmosphere and wanted everyone within three zip codes to know it.

When the gunfire starts, you either move like your life depends on it—or you freeze and become a statistic.

The moment the nation’s top firearms instructors ban one of your pistols from training, the debate shifts from design flaws to a crisis of trust.

A sidearm that holsters like a housecat and bites like a rattlesnake—God help us if it starts asking for rank and pension.

If a sidearm can fire from a table without a finger on the trigger, it’s not a weapon—it’s a liability with a serial number.

Texas just told the feds and city slickers alike to keep their hands — and their gift cards — off our firearms, because liberty doesn’t come with a store credit receipt.

The M24 didn’t need a selector switch or a red dot—it needed a calm breath, a steady hand, and the will to end a fight before it ever began.