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We trace Kenny’ Feinstein’s path from punk rock fueled kid to a bluegrass lifer, the rise, collapse, and rebirth of Water Tower, and how LA off-ramps became a writing room, rehearsal space, and lifeline. We als discuss how a fateful encounter with 311’s Nick Hexum and a shared love for Americans roots music and sober living led to Water Tower touring and performing with Nick on his solo, “Nothing But the Truth” Tour
 
 • tour dates with Nick Hexum across 19 cities
 • origin story from Mexico City to Portland square dances
 • busking as craft, income, and audience testing
 • jazz study, juries, and on-the-road practice
 • writing songs at freeway off-ramps
 • sobriety, meetings, and community support
 • two banjos, shifting instrumentation with Nick
 • collaborations with MXPX, Germs, Tim Armstrong
 • teaching, producing, and artist coaching
 • new marketing book with Nick’s foreword
 • where to find Water Tower and new single release
 
Make sure you guys are going and checking out the tour dates. It starts January 30th, goes to April 5th, 19 different cities that it's going to be going at, a lot of intimate shows as well as a chance to meet Kenny, Nick and the fellas with Water Tower.  Get some merch and just be a part of that. Make sure when you're there, put your phone down, just be in the moment,  enjoy the camaraderie of great people, great times and great music.

WaterTowerBand.com

Kenny Feinstein on IG

WorkSmarterMusicMarketing.com

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George Blitch on IG

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The heart of this conversation is creative courage. Nick Hexum traces a path from chasing hyper-modern sounds to falling in love with instruments that predate rock, and the shift isn’t a gimmick; it’s a return to vulnerability. He talks about mandolin, pedal steel, and the one-mic stagecraft that forces projection and blend, like old halls before PA systems. That choice changes everything about performance and writing. Singing higher, belting lines once whispered, and working dynamics against freeway noise while busking sharpened his voice and his band’s cohesion. When the palette narrows, the stakes rise: lyrics must carry truth, melody must pull weight, and the room must feel the breath between words. This is where his Americana, bluegrass, and folk lean reveal a deeper theme—follow the muse or be left behind.
 
Hexum’s lunar-themed solo work—Waxing Nostalgic, Full Memories, and Waning Time—threads personal history through present resolve and future intent. He and his wife shaped the phases to reflect an inner tide: looking back with "1978", standing in the moment with intimate portraits, and peering ahead with hard-earned hope. The themes are not rigid boxes; they’re anchors for songs that orbit memory. Family appears everywhere: his daughter Echo on piano, his sister co-writing a song, a song honoring his late brother, and a lineage of musical collaborators join him along the way.  The more he explored the past, the freer he felt to dig deep into the roots of American Music and his own soul. 
 
Honesty is a craft as much as a choice. Hexum talks about grief for his brother and the reflex to hide pain, then choosing to name it in song to heal and connect ("I Am Open"). He speaks about fatherhood with "Please Explain", born from a family phrase and expanded through a co-write with Ben Kweller after sharing losses and fears. The writing process became a safe space blueprint: coaxing truth, reading faces, building trust, and letting the music hold what words can’t. Sobriety threads through it all, as a discipline of clarity and gratitude. Audience response confirmed the bet—when artists risk the dark caves, listeners bring their lanterns. These songs prove that creative vulnerability is not a brand; it’s a bridge that carries both ways.
 
Creativity also needs a system. Hexum shares how Rick Rubin’s ideas unlocked momentum: audience comes last, perfectionism is ego, and quantity begets quality. That mindset powers frequent releases and dislodges the logjam that stalls new work behind the “perfect” unfinished piece. He treats songwriting as a spiritual practice: show up with pen and guitar, let another power handle quality, and keep moving. That ethos inspired SKP, the platform he co-founded with his wife to help artists become major label escapees. With distribution barriers gone, the goal is streamlined tools, direct fan connection, and releasing work at the artist’s pace. It’s not anti-label; it’s pro-agency, rooted in the belief that the shortest path from song to soul is the one you build yourself.
 
Finally, there’s awe—the original meaning of awful as full of awe—which Hexum wants to cultivate like a daily habit. From foraging mushrooms to standing outside with dogs, small doses of awe recalibrate a busy mind more reliably than another notification. That focus shapes his tour: one-mic intimacy, storytelling between songs, and a reminder to put the phone down. He’s grateful, animated by community, and curious about what’s next: more crossings between jazz and Americana, more covers reimagined, and maybe a book when the courage clicks. The takeaway is simple and rare: follow the muse, honor the roots, release often, and let awe do its quiet work.

Learn more at:
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A law degree is an unlikely trailhead to bison ranching, yet the path makes sense when conservation is the compass. Matt left Chicago for Bozeman with a plan to protect wild places and ended up building a land-based business that treats the animal and the prairie as one living system. The ranch sits in Montana’s Shields Valley, chosen for its ranching culture and distance from sprawl. After months of “sponge mode” learning and a holistic management course, he found adjacent parcels, replaced old barbed wire with wildlife-friendly fencing, and started a herd sourced from the Rocky Mountain Front. Every choice aims at two goals: biodiversity on the land and the best-tasting red meat his customers will ever put on a plate.

Regeneration is the operating system, not a slogan. The ranch rejects pesticides, herbicides, and fungicides, choosing soil health over short-term control. Predators like coyotes and badgers keep their roles in the web; the aim is a functioning grassland, not a simplified factory floor. Biodiversity isn’t just a moral stance—it supports resilience, nutrition, and flavor. Where invasives like cheatgrass, leafy spurge, or spotted knapweed appear, the team experiments with bale grazing to shift nutrient profiles and an organic soil amendment to favor natives. Progress takes seasons, not days, but the payoff is a living prairie where birds, bugs, and grazers co-evolve with management instead of fighting it.

Stress management carries through to harvest. Instead of feedlots and trucks, Matt field harvests year-round with a close-range, single headshot. There is no dry-lot fasting, no transport panic, and no chaos in chutes. The carcass heads to a craft butcher for careful skinning, trimming, and a two-week dry age that concentrates flavor without over-dehydrating lean bison. Customers order quarters, halves, or wholes, and receive only meat from their animal—no added fat, no mixing. Steaks and roasts arrive vacuum-packed; ground comes in one-pound chubs. Even the trim can shine: rendered bison fat blends beautifully into wild game burgers, adding clean richness and structure.

Growth came with intention. Land values soared, so the ranch partnered with a regenerative finance group to lease 917 adjacent acres with a buyout path. That expansion supports a larger herd and a better headquarters while keeping operations compact and attentive. The original ranch house now welcomes guests as an Airbnb basecamp for ski days, gravel rides, and sunrise bison watching—another way to connect people to a working landscape. Commitment to permanence runs deeper than a lease: a conservation easement with the local land trust protects the property from development forever, guaranteeing that a century from now, the view will match the one seen today.

Connection matters. When someone orders from across the country, they receive more than a shipping notice. Matt sends harvest-day photos and a note about the weather, the herd, and the process. Boxes include cooking tips, stickers, and a sprig of sagebrush bound with bison hair, a small anchor to place and story. Partnerships with storytellers and chefs—like MeatEater’s stone-tool butchery experiment—spread those stories further, showing that ethical field harvests, wildlife-safe fencing, and chemical-free soils can coexist with exquisite flavor. The result is a simple promise: animals live as they evolved to live, prairies gain life, and your freezer fills with meat that tastes like place.

NorthBridgerBison.com
IG: "northbridgerbison"

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IG: "thesonofablitch"

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Kent Savage explores his work and history of Capital Farm Credit, one of the key partners with the Houston Safari Club Foundation Convention (Jan 23-25, 2026 in the Woodlands). Kent, a 7th generation Texan grew up on a ranch and spent nearly his entire career in the agricultural and land business in one way or another. As he mentions, lending for land is a craft that blends appraisal, local knowledge, and honest guidance. It’s less about rate sheets and more about reading the land, the market, and the family’s goals.
 
Capital Farm Credit sits inside a century‑old Farm Credit System built in 1916 to give farmers and ranchers stable access to credit. Over time, land banks and production lenders merged, and in Texas that consolidation produced a cooperative built for scale and specialization. With roughly 65 locations and 25k+ member‑owners, the co‑op model means borrowers are also shareholders, and service is structured around long horizons. That matters when rural cycles swing. During COVID, demand exploded as city dwellers chased space, wildlife habitat, and water. Marketing teams became lenders overnight, and volume surged across Texas. The lesson: rural finance isn’t niche anymore, but it still demands niche expertise.
 
For first‑time buyers, the biggest mistake is treating acreage like a suburban mortgage. Tracts over ten acres bring layers—minerals, water, access, ag exemptions, wind and solar easements, floodplain, and wildlife management plans. The right licensed land broker is non‑negotiable, and a lender who understands county‑level nuance can flag issues early. An experienced relationship manager partners with appraisers who know soils, comps, and commodity dynamics from the Panhandle to the Gulf Coast. That collaboration protects buyers from late‑stage surprises that can derail closings and budgets. A clear process upfront saves heartache and dollars later.
 
Trust sits at the heart of good rural lending. Kent frames the role as a trusted advisor: say what you know, admit what you don’t, and go find the answer. That approach builds loyalty across generations because land decisions are legacy decisions. Families want unvarnished truth about feasibility, cash flow, and risk exposure. They also want pointers to USDA and NRCS tools, EQIP grants, and county resources that improve soil, water, and habitat. When financing is paired with stewardship planning, owners move from buying a place to running a resilient operation that can weather markets and droughts.
 
Another priority is cultivating the next generation. With fewer producers feeding more people, the pipeline matters. Programs that support young, beginning, and small farmers help new operators launch niche enterprises—from direct‑to‑consumer beef and eggs to specialty produce and sheep. These ventures can thrive on smaller acreages with smart infrastructure and marketing. Yet inputs are high and margins thin, so tailored financing and mentorship are essential. The goal isn’t just closed loans; it’s viable businesses that anchor local food systems and rural communities. 
 
Partnerships with groups like the Houston Safari Club strengthen the conservation side of ownership. Many members are hunters and land stewards who invest in habitat, water, and wildlife. Aligning finance with conservation values helps buyers implement management plans that keep country places productive and wild. It also creates a network of peers who share vendor lists, contractor tips, and seasonal lessons you won’t find in a brochure. Community shortens the learning curve

Whether you’re escaping the metro sprawl or expanding an existing ranch, the right team—broker, lender, appraiser, and neighbors—turns a dream tract into a lasting legacy.

CapitalFarmCredit.com

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Careers rarely move in straight lines. Jason Feifer’s story starts with small-town reporting and a big realization: nobody is coming to pick you. He quit, pitched cold, and built momentum by chasing what nobody asked him to do—what he calls Opportunity Set B. That shift, from waiting to initiating, offers a practical blueprint for entrepreneurs and professionals. If you deliver only what’s expected, you’ll be trapped in today’s role. Growth happens when you explore the unassigned, whether that’s testing a product, starting a podcast, or interviewing a customer to uncover hidden demand. This is the difference between narrow output and a wider, resilient career.
 
Jason’s long-term aim is simple and powerful: full autonomy of time. Not a title, not a salary band—control. By anchoring to an abstraction, he avoids the trap of fragile identities. Titles change, markets pivot, bosses rotate. A durable career rests on assets you own and value you can transfer across platforms: newsletters, stages, advisory work, and products. The lesson for founders is to build systems that survive context—audience, skills, relationships, and IP. When you can walk away without losing your voice or pipeline, you’re free to choose projects for fit, not fear. That freedom compounds, turning experiments into engines.
 
Jason once framed change as four phases—panic, adaptation, new normal, wouldn’t go back—but he now centers the idea of building a unique personal relationship with change. That means rethinking identity, reactions, process, words, and needs. Define your value in a way that transcends mediums: not “I am a magazine editor,” but “I tell stories in my own voice.” When your identity is transferable, every change becomes a chance to apply your core skill in new places. This reduces panic, increases experimentation, and accelerates learning loops. Adaptability is not a personality trait—it’s a practiced orientation toward ambiguity.
 
The episode delivers sticky lines worth taping above your desk. Jason sites some examples from conversations and interviews he conducted. Ryan Reynolds: “To be good at something, you have to be willing to be bad.” Success depends on tolerating the messy middle. Another favorite: “Is my new problem better than my old problem?” Use it to judge pivots without chasing perfection. And a sales gem from Robert Herjavec: “Shock the narrative.” People enter conversations with scripts. Break the script—tell a disarming truth, ask an unexpected question, or reframe the stakes—to earn attention and reset the room. These ideas travel well across sales, pitching, interviewing, and leadership.
 
Finally, trust is the growth engine. As George mentions, “be a conduit, not a catcher’s mitt”. Give away real value—tactics, frameworks, honest lessons—and you won’t erode your edge; you’ll earn it. Prospects often think, “Smart, but I don’t want to do it,” and hire the source. Jason backs that up with action by replying to messages, even late. Reciprocity, consistency, and clarity build authority. The playbook is clear: chase Opportunity Set B, define a durable identity, simplify choices to convert, shock stale narratives, and lead with generosity. Do that long enough, and autonomy stops being a dream and becomes your default mode.

JasonFeifer.com
IG: "heyfeifer"

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IG: "thesonofablitch"

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Pat Kelly’s incredible debut thriller novel, Rifle Season, is rooted in Colorado’s Western Slope, where elk rifle season draws strangers with rifles and mixed motives. Kelly explains how the book springs from decades of living among hunters, absorbing the rhythms of weather, pressure, and terrain. The inciting spark is painfully human: a careful and well-respected guide, Mason “Mace” Winters, breaks the cardinal rule—knowing what is downrange of the target—for one second, and his life splinters after he tells his client to “send it”. That breach becomes the engine of character, community pressure, and a devastating downward spiral. Mace leaves guiding behind for a year, until his friend and fellow guide, Will Stoddard, offers him up a chance to take a couple up the mountain to try to get a photo of a mountain lion. If anyone can get them in range in one day, it’s Mace. But he can’t seem to get out of his own way, fueled by his deep addictions to alcohol and sativa. Even in his constant hazy state, the couple see Mace’s skills will be useful to them. Soon we find out the truth…they are not just shooting pictures of wildlife – they are trained assassins on a deadly revenge mission, and his guiding prowess is in high demand!

Their top end gear and gadgetry, along with their confidence, meets a wild Colorado plateau where local knowledge becomes the decisive edge. He frames this clash as old ways vs new tools, not as nostalgia but as skill hierarchies built across lifetimes. The guide Mace reads wind, light, and animal intelligence, an “old soul” attuned to lithic artifacts and the land. Meanwhile, the assassins are formidable but out of their element. Kelly leans into a rule of survival fiction: the most dangerous weapon is fluency in place, and arrogance is a wound that bleeds late.
 
The novel hums with interiority that screenplays rarely allow. Kelly points out that a novel’s gift is knowing what characters think, so he threads premonitions, visions, and guilt across Mace, Will Stoddard, and the fleeing warlord David Petrovic (aka Dragan Kordic, aka Monster). These are not ghosts but mental echoes, the kind of persistent images that haunt decision-making under stress. Will stands as the rational counterweight, a perfectionist who senses a hunt gone wrong before it begins. The theme tightens: intuition matters, but so does respect. Animals notice a door hinge whisper; elk shift when a rock rolls. Kelly’s maxim—nature bats last—cements the book’s turning point when a historic blizzard crashes the hunt, forcing every character, tool, and plan to contend with a greater order.
 
Community and loyalty anchor the narrative. Kelly explores belonging and the cost of reputation: lose trust, lose work, lose your place. Mace’s fall from grace is financial, legal, and social, and the story tests who stands by him when his competence is in doubt. The assassins keep him upright for their ends, but underestimate what a resurrected hunter can do. Kelly’s insight here is pragmatic: people are easier to hunt because they ignore rules animals never break. The plateau becomes both courtroom and battlefield, where the weather, the herd, and the drainage itself pass judgment.
 
Kelly’s path from screenwriting to novels shapes his craft choices.  He had industry allies who told him the hard truths and editors who saw a series in his premise. Yet he guarded the heart of the book: a place-informed thriller that respects readers who crave authenticity. The reason Rifle Season resonates is simple: it asks whether one mistake defines you, and whether skill, humility, and the land itself can give you one last shot to set things right.

Pre-order now!

Publication day: 1/27/2026

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Drew Davis was born with cerebral palsy, yet he refuses to be boxed in by limits or pity. He built Crippling Hot Sauce to prove that humor, heat, and purpose can coexist, and he has the receipts: hundreds of thousands of bottles sold, national media, hundreds of millions of views, and a growing movement to change the lives of the disabled community, and of course, making some damn fine hot sauce, while he's at it!

We begin by discussing the recent New York Ironman where Drew and his cousin, Josh Wagner, chased a first for their course as a disabled duo. Their plan was part marketing, part mission, and all grit, designed to shine a spotlight on access, representation, and the launch of The Limitless Foundation.
 
Training for the race surfaced real constraints and focus that many people never see. Pool laps could not mimic ocean currents. A clip-in pedal turned a cramp into a topple. A mis-set bike seat became a grinding backache over relentless hills. Dead phones stole their time checks and with them, certainty. Yet the running and tri-communities rallied, cheering them on, calling out times, and lending their support when needed. Drew’s narration makes the scene vivid, and of course, he brings the humor to the story, as only he can.
 
That focus carries into the foundation. Drew is clear-eyed about the numbers: most disabled Americans are unemployed, not for lack of will, but for lack of tools, access, and resources. Grants for equipment, seed funding for startups, mentorship for first-time founders, and travel solutions that do not rely on a friend lifting you onto a plane are not luxuries; they are the missing rungs on the ladder. The ADA dates to 1990. The world moved on with e-commerce, ride shares, social media, and new work norms, while accessibility for the disabled community rules largely froze in time. By telling a story people want to follow, Drew opens a door to policy and culture change that people clearly want to support.
 
Brand building is part of the strategy, not a distraction from it. The labels are punchy, the videos are daring, and they offer some incredible flavors (and catchy names): Ghost Pepper Palsy, Just For The Parking, Dilll With It, Limping, Special Treatment, Crippling Agony, Life's a Beach, and special limited runs like the Carolina Reaper tribute to Ozzy Osbourne, Prince of Disabledness. 

Humor breaks the ice so harder truths can land. It is a playbook with a conscience: edgy, clear, and impossible to ignore, while channeling attention into the need for change, opportunities and improvements for the disabled community.
 
Drew closes with gratitude and a challenge. Start, even if someone calls your idea unrealistic. Keep going when the current turns and the hill tilts up. Treat disabled people like people: crack a joke, and offer help without taking away autonomy. If you care about progress, buy the sauce, share the story, and press for policies that match the century we live in. The heat is the hook, but the endgame is broader access, better gear, more opportunities and awareness, and a culture that expects more from all of us. That is how a small bottle can fuel a big movement.

TheCripplingCompany.com
TheLimitlessFoundation.org
IG: crippling_drew
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IG: "TheSonofaBlitch"

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The heart of our talk isn’t just about outdoors adventure; it’s the business and conservation model behind Wildlife Partners. As our guest, Brian Gilroy, CEO & Co-Founder explains, his company breeds and brokers exotic wildlife at scale while consulting for roughly a thousand Texas landowners. It also opens the gates for people nationwide to participate without owning land, blending a passion for animals with smart tax strategy and measurable conservation outcomes.

The key unlock is legal classification. In Texas, non‑native species such as kudu, bongo, giraffe, Cape buffalo, Thomson’s and Grant’s gazelles are designated as livestock. The IRS treats them like cattle. Recent tax legislation, including the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act and a subsequent “Big Beautiful” bill, allows 100% first‑year deduction on qualifying livestock purchases. Wildlife Partners channels this into a turnkey structure: investors form an LLC that buys breeding stock. The company places animals on its 12,000 acres—think a ranch VRBO for exotics—provides husbandry, tracks reproduction, and sells offspring after a year, creating long‑term capital gains instead of ordinary income. Investors receive distributions while the firm handles animal care, recordkeeping, and marketing through services like capture, transport, and auction.

Conservation value flows from economics. When animals are valuable, people protect habitat, invest in fencing and forage, and breed responsibly. Brian highlights the Dama gazelle to show scale. Fewer than 50 remain in the wild, yet Texas private ownership now safeguards approximately 2,000 out of an estimated 2,500 worldwide. His company alone holds about 10% of the global population. That success traces back to clear incentives: offspring can be sold within a year, generating reliable cash flow without trophy timelines. While hunting plays a role, many buyers are driven by pride of ownership, wildlife enjoyment, and the satisfaction of seeing rare species thrive. The model aligns legacy conservation with profit and tax efficiency, sustaining herds that would otherwise fade.

Community amplifies the mission. Wildlife Partners has grown alongside the Houston Safari Club Foundation, where they exhibit and sponsor. Brian values the convention’s intimacy: fewer crowds, richer conversations, and space for novices to ask candid questions without judgment. For first‑timers, the advice is simple: be honest about what you don’t know, talk to outfitters from Alaska to Africa, and let seasoned pros guide your first step. That openness makes it easier to evaluate offers, understand safety, and compare hunts or ranch goals without pressure. Families are welcome, and kids can immerse in art, gear, and conservation stories that make the outdoors feel accessible.

Education now extends to finance professionals. Brian and his brother became certified to deliver continuing education for CPAs, turning eight-hour workshops and one-hour webinars into practical roadmaps for livestock depreciation, Section 179, and bonus depreciation strategies. Many landowners have strong tax preparers but lack proactive planning; the sessions fill that gap. For details on events, services, and the revamped online marketplace, listeners can visit WildlifePartners.com and ExoticAuction.com

 Whether you own a ranch or rent space through an LLC, the goal is the same: healthy animals, healthy returns, and a durable conservation engine. When economics reward stewardship, rare species get a future—and investors get a clear pathway to support that future with confidence.

Join us at the Houston Safari Club Foundation Convention January 23-25, 2026, at the Woodlands Waterway Marriott Hotel and Convention Center.
Visit WeHuntWeGivе.org for tickets and information

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Outdoor cooking has moved beyond campfire improvisation. In my conversation with Brooks Hansen from Camp Chef, we trace that shift from rugged guesswork to reliable, flexible systems designed for real life. Brooks grew up on a northern Utah dairy farm, where days revolved around weather, work, and any excuse to be outside. That background shaped how he thinks about cooking: make it dependable, make it social, and make it taste great. His path from sports broadcasting to brand builder at Camp Chef connects a love of storytelling with an obsession for tools that bring people together—because food and fire still sit at the center of every gathering.
 
We start our conversation around with the classic two-burner stove, the cornerstone of Camp Chef since the early 1990s. Millions sold is not an accident; it’s a response to a simple problem: small suitcase stoves don’t cook for a crowd. The modern versions are modular platforms with serious heat and control, running griddles, grill boxes, or even a pizza oven. That modular mindset shows up across the lineup: the Gridiron flat top is a patio workhorse with smart grease management, true seasoned steel, a flamethrower igniter, and magnetic accessories that keep paper towels, bottles, and tools off the ground. For tailgates or hunt camps, the smaller Gridiron Game Day brings the same thoughtful design on the move.
 
Then we dig into pellet grills and why they’ve become the easiest path to great barbecue. A pellet grill is an electric convection oven fired by hardwood pellets. An auger feeds pellets into a burn pot, an igniter starts the fire, and a fan controls intensity while the controller regulates temperature.  Fuel use depends on cook temp and weather; a 20-pound bag can last 20 to 25 hours around 300 degrees, but cold fronts and wind change the math. Modern Wi‑Fi controllers and meat probes add peace of mind, letting you monitor pit and food temps from the couch or a kid’s soccer game.
 
A common critique is that pellet cooks don’t deliver the heavy smoke and bark of stick burners. Camp Chef’s response is the Woodwind Pro smoke box, which burns wood chunks above the fire pot. It blends the convenience of pellets with the flavor depth of real chunks. The smartest move is control: you can shift from a light kiss of smoke for fish or nuts to a deeper profile for brisket and pork shoulder. And at higher temperatures—think 350 to 400 degrees—the smoke fades and the cooker behaves like a clean, wood-fired oven. That’s why pies, cookies, and pizzas emerge with heat-driven texture, not smoke-overload. Let's not forget the Sidekick, which turns one unit into a complete station: flat top griddle, pizza oven, grill box, or classic skillet. That flexibility matters at camps, holidays, and weeknights when you need a quick sear after a gentle smoke.
 
The brand’s community piece is more than marketing. The Guy’s Heroes campaign w/ Guy Fieri spotlights veterans, first responders, and everyday helpers, gifting flat tops and sharing stories that actually mean something. That authenticity mirrors Camp Chef’s resource hub: recipes, maintenance guides, cleaning tips, and even natural gas conversion help. It’s hard to overstate how much a clean, well-running cooker affects your willingness to cook often. Positive experiences build habits, and habits build family traditions.
 
Brooks puts it simply: two things bring people together—fire and food. With a modern stove or pellet system, you get both, wrapped in control, consistency, and the freedom to focus on friends and family. That’s the real value of good gear: it disappears into the moment while elevating everything on the plate.

Learn more:
CampChef.com
SonofaBlitch.com

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You do not want to miss this podcast with Matty Nelson, former Green Beret, with Seekins Precision, to talk about their latest and greatest design, the SIC rifle.

Precision shooters, competitors, and professionals have long chased a rifle that balances brute strength with fast modularity and repeatable zero. The Seekins Precision SIC (Seekins Interchangeable Caliber) rifle aims straight at that problem with an architecture that rethinks how a rifle is built, not just how parts bolt together. 

Instead of a traditional action dropped into a chassis, the SIC uses a massive receiver that integrates what most platforms spread across multiple components. The result is a tool‑free, on‑the‑fly caliber change system that preserves alignment and reduces the usual weak points where screws back out and tolerances drift. From short action favorites like 6.5 Creedmoor to long action hammer rounds like 300 Norma and 338 Lapua, the platform transforms without turning your bench into a parts yard.
 
What makes this design compelling is the way it manages interfaces. Dedicated, caliber‑specific magazine wells drop into the receiver so you avoid unreliable spacer hacks, and a larger‑diameter bolt body carries a tool‑less, swappable bolt head. That change mirrors the proven Seekins approach to barrel swaps, bringing their “HIT” methodology inside the SIC’s core. Two takedown pins—think AR upper and lower—separate the receiver, magwell, and trigger group for maintenance and role changes. Add a folding stock, full‑length Arca, and M‑LOK throughout and you get a rifle that moves from ELR hillside hides to competition barricades with minimal compromise. Demand from special operations drove the brief, but the civilian interest is obvious: one rifle, multiple missions, repeatable performance.
 
Rail integration is smarter than it looks. The 20 MOA Picatinny rail keys into a beveled handguard channel and installs from the front, preventing movement from top‑down torque and eliminating the micro shifts that plague thermal and night vision setups. Mount a dedicated rail section to your thermal, slide it into the handguard’s keyed track, and your return‑to‑zero stays true because the geometry, not just screws, enforces position. Reports from high round counts show no meaningful zero shift across classes, even after drops, heat cycles, and abuse that would out a lesser build.
 
Ergonomics follow a “supercar” philosophy: close your eyes, shoulder the rifle, and controls should fall exactly where your hands expect. The ambidextrous safety doubles as a true thumb shelf, fixing a common gripe with precision stocks and improving grip tension without torquing the rifle. Length of pull and cheek height adjust quickly, and a flywheel lets you shift the buttpad up, down, or cant it to clear armor, antennas, or pack straps. For operators who tune kit to the mission—or competitors contorting over obstacles—those micro adjustments translate to cleaner natural point of aim, less wobble, and fewer forced shots. 
 
Performance has been off the charts amazing, as you come to expect from Seekins Precisions. The SIC feels less like a new model and more like a blueprint for how modular precision rifles should and will be built.

Make sure to visit the following links when you can:

SeekinsPrecision.com
IG: "seekinsprecision_official"
IG: "matty__nelson

George Blitch (host)
IG: "thesonofablitch"
YouTube.com/@SonofaBlitch