Name’s Adolph Morrow. If you’ve never heard of me, you’re either new in Pine Licks or the kind of guy who buys guns because they come in a cool color. Either way, you’re probably lost. But welcome.

I’ve spent most of my life elbow-deep in steel, solvent, and dumb questions. Folks walk into my armory like it’s a hardware store, asking if I’ve got a Glock “with the thing that goes up.” I don’t. What I’ve got is real firepower, built and rebuilt by a man who’s seen more misfires than marriages around here.

My shop sits out on Blind Possum Road. If you hit the old diesel drum with bullet holes in it, you’re close. If you hear gunfire, you’re closer. I fix guns, build custom pieces, and teach the kind of firearm discipline that won’t get you or your buddies killed. I’ve worked on rifles that outlived their owners and pistols that still shoot straight after being dropped in a hog pen.

I didn’t start the Redneck Army for fun. I started it because this country’s gone soft, and someone had to remind folks that freedom isn’t a bumper sticker — it’s a loaded magazine and the will to stand your ground. You can paint your rifle pink and hang it on the wall, but if you ain’t ready to use it, it’s just furniture.

I don’t sell fantasy. I don’t do unboxing videos or “top 5 range bags.” I teach people how to maintain their weapons, understand their tools, and fight like they’ve got no backup coming. Because one day, you won’t.

If you’re looking for clean reviews and polite gear talk, turn around.
If you’re okay with sarcasm, gun oil, and stories that end in “…and that’s why we don’t chamber a round drunk,” you’ll do just fine.

And no, I don’t do discounts.