The floor of forest had been transformed into a flower garden of sublime beauty, complete with a miniature menagerie of critters scurrying around among the duff. I then realized that it had been a long time since I actually stopped and looked at the micro-scenery.

The day was a perfect example of type of weather that makes even grumpy old men kinder, with a brilliant electric blue sky occasionally punctuated by cotton-puff clouds. The temperature was also perfect—just cool enough to make sitting in a sunny spot on a hillside seem like a warm bath. After our dank Hoosier winter, the sun seemed to actually soak into my bones.

Strolling along the creek, I saw trout lilies poking their mottled leaves through the dried debris of the previous generation. A single overachieving plant had hoisted its inverted yellow flower above the masses of its brethren on a stalk resembling a shepherd crook. The tiny, succulent heart-shaped leaves of wild ginger stood nearby like a crowd of bystanders watching the flower show.

Farther along, bluebells were just getting started, lifting themselves from the ground like a slow-motion fireworks show. Spring beauties dotted the forest floor, scattered like stubborn remnants of snow that refused to acknowledge the change in season.

Next to a fallen tree, a lone Dutchman’s breeches plant displayed its strange little flowers—tiny pairs of pants hanging upside down on an invisible clothesline. The pale green, lacy leaves looked like they belonged in a carefully arranged flower display, not dropped casually along a trail.

Many younger trees had already leafed out, eager and optimistic. The older ones stood back, cautious, having learned a thing or two about late frosts and false starts. The wind had softened, losing its bite, though the creek remained indifferent, continuing its yearly work of carving new ground and back-filling its previous work.

On a whim, I decided to plop onto the ground and take stock of the smaller residents of the area.

At some point, I gave up walking altogether and sat down to see what was happening at ground level. Beetles and ants conducted small, serious wars over scraps of organic debris. A stink bug decided my forearm was a fine viewing platform. It was gently evicted. A tiny yellow spider, however, made a poor real estate decision and paid the price. Nature extends only so much grace.

Early spring might be the best deal going. Enough life to make things interesting, not enough to require chemical warfare in the form of bug spray. My biggest problem that day was finding the perfect spot to sit and absorb it all.

As I walked back to our host’s log cabin, their old dog was sprawled on the wooden porch swing waiting for a handout and a scratch behind the ears. Sometimes a dog’s life doesn’t seem too bad. I almost wondered if I had accidentally wandered into one of those idyllic backlit beer commercials.

If this all sounds like aimless rambling, I’ll plead guilty. However, I’ve finally learned such aimless minutes—wandering, lingering, refusing to be productive—aren’t wasted. They add up to make your life longer. In fact, I’m counting on it.

At this rate, I figure I’ve got a real shot at reaching 150.

Photos by author

There’s a new kind of censorship happening—and most people won’t notice it until it’s already done its job. I stumbled into it by accident.

The Guns Podcast US Facebook page was flagged as “Not being recommended.” At first glance, that doesn’t sound like much. No violations. No strikes. No threats of removal. In fact, according to Facebook, the page fully complies with “community standards.”

So what’s the problem? Turns out it doesn’t meet their “recommendation guidelines.”

Let me translate this into plain English: You’re allowed to exist—but you’re not allowed to grow.

For a new page, that’s a death sentence. If Facebook won’t recommend your content, it won’t reach new people. And if it doesn’t reach new people, the page is effectively buried before it ever has a chance.

At first, I assumed it was a fluke. Maybe something triggered the algorithm. Maybe it would resolve itself. It didn’t, so I started digging—and what I found should concern anyone in the firearms community.

This is happening more and more. Firearms-related pages aren’t being banned outright or publicly punished. They’re simply being…sidelined. Disappeared. All of it quietly. Systematically. Without explanation. No warning. No transparency. No appeal that actually leads anywhere.

Just like the stories I heard from Czech citizens about what happened under communist rule when somebody upset the local Politburo chief. White vans pulled up at midnight and suddenly that person, and their family, didn’t exist anymore.

The Worm Turns

This week, things escalated. The GUNS Magazine Facebook page—an established brand with thousands of followers and strong engagement—was hit with the exact same label: “Not being recommended.”

It’s becoming apparently this isn’t just about new creators or small pages anymore. It is happening to legacy brands with built-in audiences. Pages that have followed the rules. Pages that are the shooting community online. Just like that, their reach is cut off. No announcement. No policy update. No public statement. Just a quiet flip of a switch.

This Isn’t Moderation—It’s Suppression

If Facebook came out tomorrow and said, “We’re banning all gun-related content,” there would be backlash. Headlines. Political pressure. Public debate, so they’re not doing that.

They’re doing something far more effective: they’re letting gun content stay visible—just not discoverable.

This distinction is important because it allows Facebook to say, “We’re not censoring anyone,” while ensuring that new users never organically encounter pro-firearm content in the first place. No recommendations. No algorithmic lift. No growth.

Over time, that doesn’t just limit voices, it erases them.

Facing Reality

Here’s the hard truth: there is no real workaround.

If you run a firearms page, you can’t just “adjust your content” to comply. The content is the point. Removing firearms from a firearms brand isn’t adaptation—it’s surrender. And, while there are alternative platforms, none of them come close to the reach of YouTube or Facebook. Therein lies the trap: Big Tech doesn’t have to ban you when they control discovery. They just have to make sure no one new ever finds you.

Call It What It Is

This isn’t an accident, it’s not a glitch and it’s certainly not “Content neutral.”

It’s a quiet, calculated shift that disproportionately affects one community—without ever having to say so out loud, which is exactly why it works.

Because by the time most people realize what’s happening, it’s already too late to stop it.

If you know the name Ruger, you probably think of William B. Ruger—the engineer, the innovator, the driving force behind one of America’s most recognizable firearms companies.

But Ruger didn’t do it alone.

My latest piece for Guns Magazine takes a closer look at the man most people overlook: Alexander McCormick Sturm.

👉 Read the full article here:
https://gunsmagazine.com/our-experts/guns-insider/other-guy-at-ruger-alexander-sturm/

More Than Just “The Money Guy”

It’s easy to reduce Sturm to a footnote—the wealthy backer who made Ruger’s vision possible. And yes, he did put up the original capital that launched the company in 1949.

But that’s not the whole story.

Sturm wasn’t an engineer. He was something rarer in the gun world: an artist, writer, and brand builder. He designed the iconic eagle logo that still defines Ruger today and helped shape the company’s identity from day one.

That matters more than people think.

Because companies don’t just succeed on engineering—they succeed on vision, presentation, and belief.

A Short Life, A Lasting Impact

Sturm’s story is also a reminder of how fragile success can be.

He died in 1951 at just 28 years old, just as the company was beginning to take off.

And yet, his fingerprints are still all over Ruger—from the branding to the early messaging to the partnership that made it all possible.

Even the company name itself ensures he’s never completely forgotten.

Why I Wrote This

I wrote this article because too many stories in the firearms world get simplified down to a single “hero.”

Real history doesn’t work that way.

Behind almost every success story is a second figure—the one who believed in the idea early, funded it, shaped it, or made it real in ways that don’t show up in product specs.

Sturm is one of those figures.

Takeaway

If you’re building something—whether it’s a company, a podcast, or a personal brand—this story should hit home:

• You don’t have to be the technical expert

• You don’t have to be the loudest voice

• But you do have to bring something essential to the table

Sturm did exactly that.

And Ruger wouldn’t exist without him.

If you give it a read, I’d appreciate your thoughts.

Every now and then, something happens in the firearms industry that makes you stop and say, “Wait… we don’t do that here.”

That’s exactly what’s unfolding right now between Beretta and Ruger.

I recently wrote a deeper dive into this unfolding situation for Guns Magazine, breaking down what’s happening between Beretta and Ruger—and why it matters beyond the headlines.

If you haven’t been following it closely, here’s the short version: Beretta quietly built a significant stake in Ruger—enough to get attention—and then started pushing for influence. Ruger didn’t take it lightly. What might have stayed behind closed doors in most industries has instead spilled out into public view, complete with accusations, press releases, and the early signs of a proxy fight.

That alone is unusual. The gun industry has long operated more like a fraternity than a battlefield—competitive, sure, but rarely openly hostile. Disagreements tend to stay private. Companies don’t typically air grievances in public, and they definitely don’t posture like this.

So why now?

Because the ground is shifting.

Ruger, like much of the industry, is coming off the high of pandemic-era demand and facing a much tougher market. Sales have cooled. Growth isn’t guaranteed. And when that happens, investors—and competitors—start asking harder questions.

Beretta sees opportunity in that. Whether you view their move as strategic, opportunistic, or outright aggressive probably depends on where you sit. But one thing is clear: this isn’t a passive investment. It’s an attempt to shape the future of a competitor.

And that’s the bigger story.

This isn’t just about Beretta vs. Ruger. It’s about what happens when an industry that’s traditionally insular starts behaving like every other modern corporate sector—where shareholder activism, consolidation, and power plays are part of the landscape.

If this continues—and I think it will—you can expect more of it:

• More scrutiny of leadership and performance

• More outside pressure from investors

• And fewer of the old, unwritten rules about keeping things “in the family”

That’s a fundamental shift.

The firearms industry has always been a little different. Slower to change. More relationship-driven. Less willing to air internal conflict.

This situation suggests those days may be ending.

And if that’s true, what we’re watching right now isn’t just a dispute.

It’s a preview.

If you want the full breakdown of what’s happening—and why it matters beyond the headlines—you can read my original piece here:
https://gunsmagazine.com/our-experts/guns-insider/beretta-battles-ruger/

Suddenly, one stopped me cold: it was for “electromagnetic blocking hunting clothes.”

Naturally, I clicked.

Dubious Concept

I’m not going to name the company because—spoiler alert—I think the whole concept is pure snake oil and I’d rather not spend the rest of my life answering emails from lawyers. But if the ad showed up in my feed, there’s a decent chance you’ve seen it too.

The premise goes something like this: the human body emits tiny electromagnetic signals. According to the ad copy, big game animals are sensitive to those emissions. Therefore, if you wear their proprietary garments—made with some sort of mysterious techno-fibers that supposedly block your electromagnetic “signature”—animals won’t detect you.

The implication is that deer, elk, and whatever else you’re chasing will stroll right up and practically feed out of your hand, or something like that.

Now let’s slow down for a moment and consider a few inconvenient facts.

First, yes—the human body does emit extremely small electrical signals. But they’re incredibly minute. In most cases they can only be measured with laboratory equipment that’s physically attached to your body.

We’re talking about signals so weak they require medical instruments.

Second, there are animals that can detect electrical fields. Sharks, for example, famously use specialized organs called the ampullae of Lorenzini to sense the tiny electrical impulses produced by prey animals.

But sharks live in saltwater, which is a fantastic conductor of electricity.

Whitetail deer do not.

Missing Evidence

I’ve searched around and found no credible scientific literature suggesting that mammals—particularly terrestrial ones—are detecting human bioelectric emissions while walking around in the woods.

Which brings us to the practical test: real life.

Because if deer could sense your electrical aura from across the woods, I can think of at least one morning where they should have vacated to the next county over.

Years ago I was sitting at the base of a tree in the dark waiting for turkeys to wake up. It was one of those quiet, still spring mornings where the woods haven’t quite decided whether they’re ready to start the day.

I wasn’t scent-controlled. Not even a little because turkey hunters generally aren’t nearly as obsessive about scent as deer hunters, and I had likely been drinking coffee, sweating on the hike in, and generally smelling like a human being.

Then I heard footsteps. Two does walked in and started feeding. They kept getting closer.

And closer.

Eventually they were within five feet of me.

Five feet.

I could hear them breathing.

At that point I’ll admit I became a little nervous—not because I thought they’d detect my electromagnetic signature, but because two sets of sharp deer hooves could absolutely rearrange my otherwise flawless profile if they spooked.

Fortunately, they fed around me for a bit and eventually wandered off. No panic. No alarm snorts. No reaction whatsoever.

If deer can detect human electrical emissions, those two clearly skipped that day in deer school.

Stand Still, Laddie

In forty years of big-game hunting, I’ve learned a few things about why animals spook. Number one, by a wide margin, is movement.

Humans are terrible at staying still. Modern humans might be even worse. Between fidgeting, checking phones, shifting positions, and generally being uncomfortable, we move far more than we realize.

Animals notice that.

The second big factor is scent. If the wind betrays you, the game is over long before you ever see the animal.

But if you remain completely stock-still and the wind is in your favor, an amazing thing happens.

Animals just do their thing.

They walk past you.

They feed nearby.

Sometimes they get uncomfortably close.

None of that requires special electromagnetic underwear, which brings me back to the Facebook ad.

Hunting companies have been inventing clever ways to separate hunters from their money for a long time. Some innovations are legitimate. Some are incremental improvements. Some are mostly marketing. And, occasionally, something comes along that makes you pause and think, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Electromagnetic-blocking hunting clothes fall squarely into that last category.

If you want to improve your odds in the woods, here’s a radical suggestion:

Sit still.
Watch the wind.
Pay attention.

Those three things will do far more for your hunting success than any space-age fabric ever will—and they’re still free.