Category: Archeology

I Didn’t Want To Be That Guy: The Influence of Non-Human Intelligence on the Ohio, Newark Holy Stones

I had waited years for this…………………………………….

In January 2020, a UFO was filmed directly over the Newark Earthworks. L.A. Marzulli posted about the video, calling it no coincidence. He sees the site as tied to the Nephilim and fallen angels, pointing to the advanced 18.6-year lunar cycle built into the Octagon as evidence that the knowledge couldn’t have come from the local people alone. To him, the sighting proved a direct link between these ancient mound complexes worldwide and the modern UFO phenomenon.  And this story points to a deeper issue: that people like Marzulli have lost any trust in any institutional contributor, and what that means for the continuation of civilization itself.  After all, I did have a UFO experience myself, which I attribute more to occult practice than physical contact, which makes the Holy Stones of that region much more interesting and important than they otherwise would be.  Because of this and many similar controversies, I am slightly obsessed with how non-human intelligence, whether it be overt demons or aliens from outside of Earth’s gravity imprint, has shaped human civilization in ways that institutional archaeology cannot deal with, because they don’t have the current means, which is exactly why I sat down to write The Politics of Heaven.  I was always inspired by Frazer’s Golden Bough and how it created the field of anthropology, and for my own work, I want to contribute to the continued evolution of the vast dialogue of that subject matter: how much non-human intelligence has shaped human society from the very beginning, not with just conspiracy theory consideration, but with hard, observable science. 

I’ve been thinking along similar lines, though I come at it from a different angle. The Newark Earthworks aren’t just ceremonial or astronomical in the usual sense. I propose that they function like a giant horizontal clock laid flat on the ground, precisely tracking the moon’s complex 18.6-year nodal cycle. That’s not casual observation — it’s sophisticated long-term record-keeping.

Here’s where it gets interesting to me: if you have entities traveling from outside our normal frame of reference, experiencing time dilation, these massive, visible-from-the-air geometric earthworks would make perfect navigational markers not just for where you are, but for when you are. The stars and moon shift over centuries. A culture that can leave and return after what feels like a short trip to them might need reliable ground references to calibrate exactly which phase of earthly time they’ve arrived in. The Newark complex, with its perfect lunar alignments, would serve that purpose beautifully — like tying ribbons on trees in a forest before GPS existed to keep from getting lost, except on a monumental, landscape scale.

My own Middletown UFO sighting, where I essentially challenged it to show up, and it did a couple of days later, fits the pattern too. These appearances often feel responsive, almost ritualistic. Whether you call them non-human intelligence, watchers, or something else, the connection between these ancient precision sites and modern UAP activity keeps showing up.

It’s one more piece suggesting the story of these earthworks — and the Holy Stones found nearby — is far from settled. The more we learn about UAPs, the more the old archaeological assumptions look incomplete.

For decades, I had known about the Johnson-Humrickhouse Museum up in Coshocton, the small but remarkable place that holds the Newark Holy Stones—the Decalogue Stone with its figure and Hebrew inscriptions, the Keystone, the associated pieces. I already owned good replicas I had purchased from them years earlier, and I had studied the photographs, the arguments, the woodcut copies David Wyrick made. But I had never stood in front of the actual stones in their case. When the chance came with family—my wife, a daughter, a few of the grandchildren—I took it. We drove out on a day when the museum opened at noon. We arrived early, stood outside for a couple of minutes after the doors opened, and when the young woman who unlocked the door saw us, she looked surprised. They do not get many visitors on an average weekday. I told her I had come a long way to see the Holy Stones. She let us in.

The museum sits in a quiet stretch of central Ohio, not far from the great Newark Earthworks complex that spreads across what is now the city of Newark and the surrounding countryside. Most people driving past on the main roads have no idea what lies just off the pavement. The Great Circle, the Octagon, the long processional avenues—these were not casual dirt piles. They are precise geometric constructions aligned to the movements of the moon over its 18.6-year nodal cycle. The Hopewell people who built and used them, roughly two thousand years ago, understood observational astronomy at a level that still astonishes anyone who takes the time to stand on the viewing platform between the Circle and the Octagon and watch the alignments play out. Avenues once guided people—and perhaps, in their understanding, spirits—along lines that connected earth to sky. Much of it is gone now. Housing developments, roads, restaurants, and an old golf course that has since closed cover what were once open ceremonial spaces. The main highway cuts through what was once part of the complex. What remains is still extraordinary, but it takes imagination and stubbornness to see the full scale of what was built here.

Inside the museum, I wandered through the gift shop first, as I always do in places like this. I was not expecting to find anything new. I already had the Holy Stones replicas at home. Then I saw three flat sandstone pieces sitting among other small items. No price tag stood out. They looked familiar the moment I picked one up—the size, the weight, the carved designs. I knew exactly what it was: a replica of the Wilmington Tablet, the Adena sandstone piece found in Sparks Mound near Wilmington, Ohio, the one now kept at the Ohio History Center in Columbus. The young woman at the counter thought they were coasters. She had to call someone to find a price. Five dollars. I bought one without hesitation. I had been looking for a good replica of that tablet for a long time. The Cincinnati Tablet, found in 1841 when a mound at Fifth and Mound Streets in downtown Cincinnati was leveled for construction—the site is now near a UPS facility—had been displayed for years at the Cincinnati Museum Center before it was removed from the Native American exhibits. It did not fit the prevailing story comfortably. The Wilmington Tablet carries its own mysteries: the main face with its stylized figures, the edges and sides marked in ways that suggest a numerical or identifying system, perhaps a personal marker for someone of importance buried with it, or a template used in ritual or body marking. Adena tablets like these have been interpreted as tattoo stamps, ownership identifiers, or cosmological diagrams. Whatever their precise function, they were important enough to be placed with the dead.

I carried the new replica with me into the exhibit area and sat down in front of the Decalogue Stone. The case holds the stone itself along with its sandstone box. The figure on the front—bearded, robed, holding what appears to be a tablet or scroll—has long been read as Moses. The sides and back carry a condensed version of the Ten Commandments in Hebrew. The carving is competent but not perfect by ancient standards; there are letter forms that mix periods and a few anomalies that scholars have used to argue for a nineteenth-century origin. The museum’s current interpretive panels, updated in recent years, present the stones straightforwardly as forgeries created in the 1860s. The explanation centers on the social and political climate before and during the Civil War. Monogenism—the biblical idea that all humans descend from a single pair, Adam and Eve—stood in opposition to polygenism, the notion that different races were separate species or creations. Polygenist arguments were sometimes used to justify slavery and unequal treatment. A discovery of ancient Hebrew inscriptions in Ohio mounds could be deployed to support monogenism, to argue that biblical history reached the Americas long before Columbus, and thereby to undermine justifications for treating any group of people as less than fully human. David Wyrick, the Newark surveyor and antiquarian who brought the stones forward in 1860, was a man of his time—interested in the mounds, respectful of their builders, and apparently inclined toward biblical literalism and anti-slavery views. His reputation suffered after the findings. He died a few years later, in 1864, amid personal difficulties that included pain and what some accounts describe as heavy use of medication. Most professional archaeologists and historians dismissed the stones as nineteenth-century creations meant to influence the great debate of the age.

David Wyrick died on April 16, 1864, at the age of 57. Contemporary newspaper accounts reported that he died suddenly from an overdose of laudanum, a common opium-based painkiller he had been taking regularly for a long-term painful illness, most likely severe rheumatoid arthritis.

Local records and the original reporting did not list his death as suicide. The official cause was listed as “rheumatism” in some documents, and the newspaper noted the overdose without claiming it was intentional. However, the intense controversy surrounding the Holy Stones, combined with his financial troubles, led later writers to describe it as suicide. That narrative stuck in many books and articles for decades, even though the primary sources from 1864 do not support it.

The stress from the backlash clearly took a heavy toll on him physically and mentally. Still, the evidence shows he was managing chronic pain with medication that ultimately proved fatal. I would propose that it granted non-human intelligence access to his mind under duress, a move that proved catastrophic. 

The image in the visitor center is David Wyrick’s 1860 survey map of the Newark Earthworks. It’s a detailed, hand-drawn overhead plan showing the full layout of the Great Circle, the Octagon, the parallel walls connecting them, and the surrounding landscape as it existed at the time. It includes roads, the Ohio and Erie Canal, railroad lines, and even the Great Circle, which was used as the Licking County Fairgrounds.

It’s widely considered one of the most accurate early maps of the site, which is why Ohio History Connection still displays and references it. It’s not an artistic painting; it’s a surveyor’s technical drawing — clean, precise lines with measurements and labels.

I sat there longer than I expected. The grandchildren moved around the room, patient, as children are when grandpa gets quiet in front of old things. My daughter kept the camera ready because she knows the look I get when something lands hard. I felt a familiar weight settle in. I have spent most of my life being the person who says the thing that makes a room go quiet. I do not enjoy it. I would rather study, walk the sites, read the reports, and keep my thoughts to myself. But the pattern forming in my mind as I looked at the Holy Stones and read the museum’s careful, institutionally approved explanation would not stay quiet. The stones may indeed be nineteenth-century work. The letter forms, the timing with Lincoln’s election, the social circles Wyrick moved in—all of that can be documented. Yet the question “why would someone go to this much trouble?” still sits there. The mainstream answer is political and religious motivation in a divided country. That answer is not wrong on its face. It is incomplete.

What struck me, sitting in that chair, was how little room the current framing leaves for the possibility that Wyrick himself was not the originator of the content, or that, even if he carved or commissioned the stones, the impulse and the specific knowledge came from elsewhere. Pain medications of the mid-nineteenth century were not inert. Some had properties that alter consciousness. Wyrick was a man under strain, already deeply engaged with the mounds and their meanings, moving through a landscape where indigenous knowledge and biblical imagination were colliding in real time. Across human history, people in altered states—whether through plants, fasting, ritual, or substances—have reported contact with intelligences that are not their own. They have returned with precise information about astronomy, geometry, architecture, and moral order. The Newark Earthworks themselves demonstrate exactly that kind of precise knowledge: alignments that track the moon’s complex cycle, geometry that rivals anything built in the Old World at the same period. The Hopewell culture that maintained and expanded these sites was part of a vast interaction sphere that moved copper from the Great Lakes, mica from the Appalachians, and ideas across hundreds of miles. They were not isolated. They were connected.

The possibility that non-human intelligences have interacted with human beings across deep time is no longer the fringe claim it once was. Government releases on UAPs in recent years have normalized the conversation in ways that would have been impossible even a decade ago. Films like Disclosure Day and public discussions now explore themes of possession, mind influence, and non-human entities operating through human agents. Some of these portrayals treat the phenomenon as technological or biological. Others, including certain narratives that reached wide audiences, frame it in explicitly spiritual terms—entities that seek to override human sovereignty, countered by faith, symbol, and will. I watched one such portrayal not long before this visit and recognized the pattern immediately. The same dynamic appears in ancient accounts worldwide: shamanic traditions in which practitioners enter altered states to receive knowledge from “the gods” or spirits; biblical descriptions of encounters at burning bushes, on mountaintops, or in temples complete with high place drug use, to a modern eye familiar with high-speed travel and gravitational effects, like interactions with non-local intelligences; the global recurrence of similar architectural and astronomical knowledge appearing in places separated by oceans and centuries.

If non-human intelligences have been present and active, they would not need wooden ships or land bridges to move knowledge. They would need markers. The Newark Earthworks, with their lunar clock and visible geometry, serve perfectly as reference points that can be read from above or used by people on the ground to synchronize time over long intervals. Time dilation is not science fiction; it is a measured fact. Travelers moving at relativistic speeds or operating near significant gravitational gradients experience time differently from observers on Earth’s surface. A short subjective journey for them could correspond to centuries or more here. Upon return, they would need fixed, durable references—alignments to stars and moon, geometric figures visible from altitude, places where the calendar could be read without ambiguity. The Hopewell and Adena landscapes contain exactly those features. So do other ancient sites that display sudden leaps in mathematical and observational sophistication. The question is not whether the knowledge appears; it is where it came from and why it appears in the patterns it does.

The Wilmington Tablet I now own a replica of fits into this larger question. It was buried with someone important enough that their personal marker was placed in the mound. The edge markings that catch the eye when you turn the piece over suggest a system—numbers, ownership, affiliation, or ritual status. Similar tablets from the Adena sphere have been found with red ochre residue consistent with use as printing or stamping devices, possibly for body art that identified lineage, achievement, or spiritual standing. If these were “ID cards” for the dead, they imply a society that tracked individual identity and status with precision across generations. That level of organization recurs in mound-building cultures of the Ohio Valley and beyond. It does not require external input to exist, but the sudden appearance of specific symbolic and mathematical systems in multiple places at roughly the same horizon of development invites the question of common inspiration.

I do not claim the Holy Stones are ancient. The evidence the museum presents for a nineteenth-century creation is substantial and has been reinforced by careful recent work. What I am willing to say, after sitting with the stones and walking the remnants of the earthworks, is that the story we are told about why they exist is too tidy. It reduces a complex man and a complex moment to a simple political hoax. It leaves no room for the possibility that Wyrick, already immersed in the mounds and carrying his own burdens, encountered something—an idea, an image, a compulsion—that felt as if it came from outside himself. That experience would not make the stones ancient. It would make them artifacts of contact, whether the contact was spiritual, psychological, or something we do not yet have language for. The same pattern appears in other times and places where precise knowledge falls into the hands of people under stress or in altered states: the biblical prophets, the builders of megalithic monuments, the medicine people who maintained alignments and oral calendars over centuries.

The destruction of the physical evidence compounds the problem. Newark itself was built over and through one of the most significant ceremonial landscapes in North America. Miamisburg Mound sits in a town that grew around it. Countless smaller mounds were plowed flat or bulldozed for roads and foundations before anyone could record what they contained. The Windover Pond site in Florida, with its 8,000-year-old burials preserving brain tissue and some of the oldest textiles in the Americas, revealed people whose material culture and genetic signals do not fit neatly into later narratives of isolation and simplicity. Bones and artifacts continue to be reburied under policies that prioritize contemporary tribal affiliation over scientific study, even when the genetic and cultural distance is vast. Every time we pave or rebury without full documentation, we remove data that might clarify whether the knowledge visible in these sites was generated locally, transmitted through ordinary human networks, or introduced through less conventional channels.

Archaeologists do the hard, necessary work of excavation, mapping, and dating. I respect that labor. What I question is the institutional reluctance to entertain hypotheses that fall outside the current consensus, especially when the consensus itself rests partly on the absence of evidence that has been destroyed or never collected. The same scholars who correctly note that the Holy Stones’ Hebrew shows characteristics of nineteenth-century Bibles are often the first to dismiss any suggestion that pre-Columbian contact or non-local inspiration could explain other anomalies. The stones become a cautionary tale about forgeries rather than a prompt to ask why a surveyor in 1860 would risk everything to place Hebrew commandments inside a Hopewell-era mound. The answer “politics” is available. The answer “something spoke to him in a way that felt authoritative” is not, because it opens territory that academic archaeology has largely ceded to other disciplines or to popular writers.

My own work, particularly the book I have been completing, looks to hold both the documented record and the larger pattern in view. The Politics of Heaven is not an attack on archaeology. It is a dedicated effort to reconnect what we can see on the ground—earthworks, tablets, alignments, sudden appearances of sophisticated knowledge—with the possibility that non-human intelligences have been active participants in human affairs for a very long time. That possibility does not require rejecting indigenous achievement. It expands it. The people who built and used the Newark complex were sophisticated observers and engineers. They also lived in a world where altered states, visionary experience, and communication with non-ordinary intelligences were part of the cultural toolkit. The same toolkit appears in the ancient Near East, in Britain, in Mesoamerica, and in the shamanic traditions that persist today. The content of what comes through those channels varies, but the mechanism is recurrent.

Sitting in the museum that afternoon, I realized again why I have to write what I am writing. The stones are on display. The earthworks are still there in fragments. The UAP files are coming out. The cultural conversation has shifted enough that a person can say, without immediate professional ruin, that the old categories—isolated continents, purely local invention, no external intelligences—are no longer sufficient to explain the full record. David Wyrick may have been a forger, a dupe, a sincere man who encountered something he could not fully explain, or all three at different moments. He was an abolitionist, like Lincoln, opposed to slavery, and I think he was a pretty good person.  The stones he brought forward remain touchstones. They force us to ask what counts as evidence and whose stories get to shape the past. The Wilmington Tablet replica now sits on a shelf in my house. It is not ancient. It is a modern copy of an ancient object that, in turn, raises questions we have not yet answered. When I look at it, I think about the person it once identified or accompanied, the culture that made it important enough to bury, and the long chain of curiosity that brought a replica into my hands on an ordinary afternoon in Coshocton.

The grandchildren eventually pulled me toward the door. We stopped at a small tavern down the road for fish and chips. I set the tablet on the table for a moment and joked that it needed to eat too. The absurdity made them laugh, which was the point. Later, driving home through the Ohio countryside, I kept returning to the image of the Decalogue Stone in its case and the museum’s careful panels explaining its modern origin. They are not wrong about the carving. They are incomplete about the context. The full story of these places and these objects will require more than one discipline and more than one kind of evidence. It will require the willingness to sit with anomalies instead of explaining them away, to walk the remaining earthworks at moonrise, to hold a tablet in your hands and ask what it was for, and to consider that the intelligences our ancestors called gods, spirits, or watchers may have been something we are only now beginning to name again.

I did not want to be the person who has to say these things out loud in public. I still do not. But the pattern is there, the sites are there, the disclosures are happening, and the stones continue to ask their questions. The Johnson-Humrickhouse Museum did its job. It preserved the objects, updated the interpretation, and let a visitor sit quietly in front of them long enough for the next layer of the story to become visible. That is what good museums do. The rest is up to those of us who walk out the door still carrying the questions.

The mainstream interpretation encountered at the museum and the broader synthesis regarding non-human intelligence, time dilation, archaeoastronomy, spiritual influence, and the need to re-evaluate assumptions in light of emerging data. Personal observations and opinions are rendered in the first person throughout. Background on the Newark Earthworks, Hopewell/Adena contexts, Wyrick controversy, specific tablets, and institutional shifts is woven into the narrative rather than presented as separate sections. A bibliography of key sources for further reading follows.)

Selected Sources and Further Reading.  But in essence, this is why I wrote The Politics of Heaven, to explore some of these out-of-the-box issues and put them in a useful, modern context.

•  Johnson-Humrickhouse Museum, Coshocton, Ohio. Exhibit materials and presentations on the Newark Holy Stones (updated circa 2020–2022), including work by museum staff and archaeologist Brad Lepper. The museum website and related publications detail the stones’ history and current interpretation as nineteenth-century artifacts that reflect monogenist/polygenist debates.

•  Wikipedia and scholarly summaries on the Newark Holy Stones (cross-referenced with primary accounts): consensus view as likely a hoax or planted artifacts from 1860, with discussion of Wyrick’s role, letter-form anomalies, and social context pre-Civil War.

•  Ohio History Connection / Ohio History Center resources on the Wilmington Tablet (Sparks Mound, Clinton County) and Cincinnati Tablet (Fifth & Mound Streets discovery, 1841). Adena culture context for engraved sandstone tablets.

•  Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks (UNESCO World Heritage Site documentation) and Newark Earthworks visitor resources: lunar alignments, 18.6-year cycle, geometric precision, Hopewell interaction sphere.

•  Ross Hamilton, The Mystery of the Serpent Mound (and related works on Ohio earthworks geometry and astronomy).

•  Graham Hancock’s publications on ancient civilizations, consciousness, and alternative historical frameworks (for engagement with entheogen and non-local influence hypotheses; contrasted in the essay with sovereignty concerns).

•  Biblical Archaeology Review (long-term reference for comparative ancient Near Eastern and American contexts).

•  Primary historical accounts of David Wyrick’s discoveries (1860–1861 pamphlets and contemporary reports) and later analyses (e.g., Whittlesey, Lepper, and others on authenticity debates).

•  UAP-related government releases and congressional records (post-2017 onward) for the shifting public and official conversation on non-human intelligence.

•  Additional context on Adena/Hopewell tablets, Windover Pond site (Florida), time dilation in relativity, and global parallels in archaeoastronomy and altered-state traditions can be found in standard archaeological syntheses and peer-reviewed journals on those topics.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

Rich Hoffman is an author, political consultant, and strategic advisor based in Cincinnati, Ohio, and the creator of The Politics of Heaven—a unique framework that connects biblical theology, ancient history, and modern power structures to explain how moral alignment and spiritual forces shape global events. Blending real-world political experience with deep research into archaeology, UFO phenomena, and suppressed historical narratives, Hoffman offers compelling commentary on topics ranging from ancient civilizations and the Dead Sea Scrolls to modern populist movements, paranormal continuity, and leadership strategy in chaotic environments. As the author of The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business and the forthcoming Politics of Heaven, he brings a grounded yet provocative voice to media discussions, supported by firsthand experiences and a cross-disciplinary approach that bridges science, history, and theology. For interviews, speaking engagements, or expert analysis, visit richhoffmanbooks.com or contact directly via phone at 513-307-5815 or email at rhoffman@richhoffmanbooks.com.  If you’ve seen the movie, Disclosure Day and want to talk about it and the implications of Presidnet Trump’s UAP disclosures, let me know and we can bring some color to your coverage. https://richhoffmanbooks.com/media-inquiries-broadcast-topics-and-contact-info/?frame-nonce=ad51e7ecba I do have a firsthand UFO encounter to discuss.

The Treasure of Ownership: Personal Music, Vinyl Resurgence, and the Human Hunger for Things That Are Truly Ours

A few years ago, the World Economic Forum floated this vision of the future captured in the phrase “you’ll own nothing and be happy.”¹ It sounded like one of those slick marketing pitches that ignores human nature entirely. People don’t like it. They push back in quiet, stubborn ways that reveal something deep about who we are as human beings wired for possession, autonomy, and legacy. I saw it clearly the other day when I was taking someone in their twenties to lunch in my car. They glanced at the dashboard and asked what that strange slot was. It was the CD player. My car isn’t ancient—I tend to drive vehicles for a decade or more—and yet to this young person, it was an artifact from another era.²

I explained that compact discs were once revolutionary. Developed through a collaboration between Philips and Sony starting in the late 1970s, with key demonstrations in 1979 and a commercial launch in 1982, CDs promised perfect digital sound without the pops, scratches, or degradation of vinyl records or the hiss of cassettes.³ By the late 1980s and throughout the 1990s, they dominated the market. I remember the excitement vividly. You could pop one in, skip tracks instantly, and take your music anywhere without worrying about needles or tape wear. I had built plenty of playlists on cassettes by recording songs off vinyl albums in the order I wanted, but CDs made sequencing seamless. You owned it outright. You could drive down the road at highway speeds—through Ohio’s potholes, storms, or whatever the Great Miami River valley threw at you—and the music played reliably. No internet required. No monthly subscription draining your account. No dependency on someone else’s servers.⁴

That young person couldn’t wrap their mind around it. Subscription services like Apple Music and Spotify have shaped their entire adult life. They rent access to a vast library that lives on someone else’s servers. Lose the subscription, the connection, or the company’s goodwill, and it vanishes. I told them that Walmart still carries CDs, though in smaller sections now, and that Cracker Barrel gift shops across the country have racks of vinyl albums selling briskly. People are buying physical music again. They want to own it—put it on the shelf, hold it in their hands, play it whenever they want without begging permission from a corporation. My grandkids notice the library of CDs on our entertainment center. They see the difference between something solid and tangible versus rented pixels in the cloud.⁵

The vinyl resurgence is one of the most astonishing cultural shifts I’ve witnessed. I grew up with LPs. They seemed archaic once CDs arrived with their superior convenience and durability for travel, but now younger generations are embracing records again. According to the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), vinyl has grown for 19 consecutive years. In 2025, U.S. vinyl sales surpassed $1 billion for the first time in decades, selling about 46.8 million units and generating nearly three times the revenue of CDs (which sold around 29.5 million units).⁶ Artists like Taylor Swift have driven special editions, but the trend runs deeper. Gen Z and millennials seek that tactile connection in a digital world. I’ve seen it at Target, Walmart, and Cracker Barrel during RV stops. People are hungry for ownership.⁷

This isn’t mere nostalgia. It’s a rejection of the rental economy pushed by globalist visions. The WEF’s 2016 essay by Ida Auken envisioned a 2030 where everything—housing, transportation, entertainment—is rented as a service, delivered conveniently, with no personal clutter of ownership.⁸ Critics rightly called it an attack on human dignity. We are not wired to be perpetual renters. We want our own refrigerator stocked with food we chose, our own yard to tend, our own spouse and children to raise as ours, our own books on the shelf that we can touch and mark. In my family, that physical library of CDs represents more than music—it represents independence.⁹

I remember the full arc of these formats. Vinyl offered warmth and ritual—the act of placing the needle, flipping sides, experiencing the album as intended. But it had drawbacks: bulk, susceptibility to warping, scratches, and the need for careful handling. Cassettes enabled homemade mixtapes and portability in cars, but their quality degraded. CDs felt like liberation when they emerged. Philips and Sony standardized the 12 cm disc to fit Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony entirely, about 74 minutes. The technology used laser reading for error correction, making it robust for travel. You could carry dozens in a slim case. I loved loading them into the car player and having on-demand music without internet or subscriptions.¹⁰

Then the market shifted dramatically. Streaming services offered convenience and unlimited access, but at the cost of true ownership. Apple Music has an enormous catalog—I appreciate the discovery aspect—but I despise the model. You pay monthly forever. Stop paying, and your library disappears. The same happened with movies. Remember rushing to buy the new release on DVD or Blu-ray and building a collection? Now it’s Netflix, HBO Max, or whichever service holds rights that month. Physical sales plummeted as streaming cannibalized them. Yet when content rotates off platforms, demand for ownership spikes again.¹¹

The push toward renting everything ties into deeper political desires for control. Centralized powers—global forums, big tech, financial interests—prefer recurring revenue and dependency. If you own it, you have sovereignty. If you rent, they can change terms, censor content, raise prices, or cut you off. This mirrors broader patterns I’ve seen in politics, aerospace, and culture. In The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, I discuss self-reliance and imposing your will on circumstances rather than leasing your life from others.¹² The same principle applies here. Look at the excitement around SpaceX’s IPO. People want to own a piece of something real, not just subscribe to access.¹³

During RV travels with my wife across the country—to the Space Coast, Gettysburg, or anywhere the road takes us—I’m reminded why ownership matters. There’s nothing like having your own bed, your own refrigerator with cold drinks and snacks, your own clean bathroom instead of relying on gas station facilities. You rent the campsite, but your stuff is yours. It provides a sense of autonomy even while moving. The same goes for books. I own physical copies. I like touching them, flipping pages, keeping them in my personal library. Downloading or using Audible has its convenience, but it lacks permanence. I’m not a fan of leasing intellectual or cultural space.¹⁴

Power outages here in Ohio—whether from big storms rolling up from the Gulf, tornadoes, or winter events—highlight another advantage. With a generator, you could still play a DVD, Blu-ray, or CD. Streaming dies without connectivity. Personal libraries provide resilience. Vinyl’s comeback, despite being larger and more fragile than CDs, shows the depth of this desire. Records take up space, can warp or scratch, and require more care, yet people buy them enthusiastically.¹⁵

The speed of change amazes me. My car still has a working CD player, yet new vehicles rarely include them. Manufacturers followed the connectivity and subscription trend. But the backlash is real. Who still makes CDs? Companies like Disc Makers and Bison Disc continue short-run and replication services for artists and collectors. Demand persists for reissues, independent releases, and audiophile formats. Given vinyl’s proof of concept, a modest CD revival is plausible—especially for durability, portability, and offline use. Collectors value the format’s sound quality and convenience over vinyl’s ritual.¹⁶

This hunger extends beyond music to the core of human nature. Americans especially cherish property rights. We want our homes, cars, guns, private spaces, and cultural artifacts that reflect our identity. Progressive globalist ideas of shared everything clash with that reality. Socialism’s communal experiments fail because they ignore our drive to build legacies. Music is deeply personal. The songs that shaped your youth, the albums discovered on your own—they become part of you. Renting them feels like renting your memories.¹⁷

I explained all this to that young person over lunch. They had recently bought a vinyl album at Target and were intrigued by the concept of true ownership. CDs seemed novel again. It’s not about rejecting technology—streaming has its place for discovery and variety. But the default shouldn’t be perpetual rental. Ownership provides resilience, no algorithmic control over your playlist, and the satisfaction of pointing to a shelf and saying, “That’s mine.” During family trips, we play our own music without signal drops or interruptions from navigation or texts.¹⁸

The WEF vision assumes adaptation to renting. Evidence suggests otherwise. Vinyl’s 19-year growth streak, physical media’s persistence, and resistance to woke content in Hollywood all signal a market shift. Big tech and entertainment pushed subscription models and certain narratives, alienating audiences. People retreat to what they can control.¹⁹

In my own life, this philosophy runs deep—from early experiences in Cincinnati to aerospace program management. Consultants and rented expertise come and go, but teams that own the mission endure—the same with culture. We want music, books, and stories that belong to us. In The Politics of Heaven, I explore these threads of spiritual, cultural, and economic sovereignty. Ownership isn’t greed; it’s dignity and agency.²⁰

There’s room for balance. Physical formats like vinyl and CDs offer tangible connection. Digital provides access. But forcing everything into rental models driven by political control rather than pure market demand has backfired. The serpent of ownership uncoils in the face of forced renting. People choose it every time they buy a record, a CD, a book, or build their own space. That’s the real future—not a 2030 rented utopia, but timeless human nature asserting itself.

I still pop in a CD when I drive. It works perfectly. And it’s mine. That feeling matters more than any subscription pitch. As I dictate this overlooking the Great Miami River or from the RV, I’m reminded how personal autonomy anchors everything. The market is speaking loudly. Vinyl proves it. CDs could follow. And humans will keep choosing what they can truly call their own—making tomorrow a better day through ownership, not rental.²¹

Footnotes

¹ World Economic Forum / Ida Auken essay “Welcome to 2030” (2016).

² Personal observation from recent interaction.

³ Philips/Sony CD development history, 1979–1982 standardization.

⁴ CD advantages for portability and reliability.

⁵ Retail observations at Walmart, Cracker Barrel, and Target.

⁶ RIAA 2025 Year-End Report: Vinyl $1B+, 46.8M units vs. CDs 29.5M.

⁷ Gen Z/millennial trends in tactile media.

⁸ WEF ownership predictions and criticism.

⁹ Family library of CDs.

¹⁰ Technical history of CD format.

¹¹ Streaming impact on physical media sales.

¹² The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business Principles.

¹³ SpaceX IPO and ownership desire.

¹⁴ RV travel and book ownership reflections.

¹⁵ Vinyl drawbacks vs. appeal.

¹⁶ Current CD manufacturing (Disc Makers, etc.) and revival potential.

¹⁷ Human nature and property rights.

¹⁸ Conversation with a young person.

¹⁹ Cultural and market backlash.

²⁰ Ties to The Politics of Heaven.

²¹ Closing personal philosophy.

Bibliography

•  Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). 2025 Year-End Recorded Music Revenue Report.

•  World Economic Forum. Ida Auken, “Welcome to 2030” (2016).

•  Philips/Sony historical documentation on CD development.

•  Rich Hoffman, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business and The Politics of Heaven.

•  Industry reports on physical media trends (Disc Makers, retail observations).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

Rich Hoffman is an author, political consultant, and strategic advisor based in Cincinnati, Ohio, and the creator of The Politics of Heaven—a unique framework that connects biblical theology, ancient history, and modern power structures to explain how moral alignment and spiritual forces shape global events. Blending real-world political experience with deep research into archaeology, UFO phenomena, and suppressed historical narratives, Hoffman offers compelling commentary on topics ranging from ancient civilizations and the Dead Sea Scrolls to modern populist movements, paranormal continuity, and leadership strategy in chaotic environments. As the author of The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business and the forthcoming Politics of Heaven, he brings a grounded yet provocative voice to media discussions, supported by firsthand experiences and a cross-disciplinary approach that bridges science, history, and theology. For interviews, speaking engagements, or expert analysis, visit richhoffmanbooks.com or contact directly via phone at 513-307-5815 or email at rhoffman@richhoffmanbooks.com.  If you’ve seen the movie, Disclosure Day and want to talk about it and the implications of Presidnet Trump’s UAP disclosures, let me know and we can bring some color to your coverage. https://richhoffmanbooks.com/media-inquiries-broadcast-topics-and-contact-info/?frame-nonce=ad51e7ecba I do have a firsthand UFO encounter to discuss.

The Way to Win for Republicans: Voters like people who fight back, not people who play nice

There is a growing controversy surrounding Amy Acton’s campaign as it attempts to distance itself from the COVID-era lockdown decisions that defined her tenure as Ohio’s health director. That strategy faces a fundamental problem: the record is well known, and voters remember. Governor Mike DeWine may have held executive authority, but Acton was not a passive figure—she was the central public voice and policy driver behind the state’s pandemic response. Day after day, she appeared before Ohioans, advocating aggressive mitigation measures, including shutdowns, mask requirements, and restrictions on gatherings. Those policies were not abstract recommendations; they were implemented in real time under the administration she helped guide.

Attempts to shift responsibility now—whether onto the governor or broader circumstances—risk undermining credibility. Acton was appointed to provide expert guidance, and by all observable accounts, DeWine relied heavily on that guidance. In that sense, the administration’s decisions were inseparable from her influence. The argument that these policies were solely political or that they emerged independently of her leadership is difficult to reconcile with the public record of her daily briefings, national media presence, and close alignment with federal health leadership at the time.

Politically, the sensitivity of this issue suggests vulnerability. The campaign’s effort to reframe or soften Acton’s role indicates awareness that the lockdown period remains deeply polarizing, particularly among voters who experienced economic disruption, job loss, or prolonged social restrictions. Efforts to draw comparisons between Acton and her opponents, including Vivek Ramaswamy, may reflect a broader defensive strategy—one intended to diffuse criticism rather than directly confront it. But such comparisons also risk backfiring if voters perceive them as evasive.

Another point of criticism centers on Acton’s departure from her role in 2020. She resigned amid mounting public pressure and protests, at a time when tensions around lockdown policies were intensifying. For critics, this moment reinforces a narrative of incomplete accountability—that she helped shape sweeping policies and then exited before the long-term consequences fully unfolded. Supporters may interpret her resignation differently, but politically, the timing continues to factor into how her leadership is judged in retrospect.  She is very vulnerable to the lockdown issue.  She dragged Jon Husted into her mess, as well as DeWine.  They were too nice to say no to her. David Pepper and the national Democrats think Republicans won’t expose her because of complicity.  Jon Husted will not take friendly fire if Republicans destroy Amy Acton with her lockdowns.  It’s easy to defend.  Her stupid policies were some of the dumbest things ever to be done in politics. And she completely owns it.

I was out in the driveway the other day, swapping tires on the RV after blowing a couple on our recent trip, sockets in hand, going back and forth to the garage. The rain was coming down, so I had WLW on for some background noise 12 to 3 on Saturday afternoon, right before the Cardinals game. I didn’t catch every word. I was in and out, focused on the work, but I heard enough. It was Kim Brew hosting, with Jim Renacci as a guest, discussing Ohio politics, John Husted, Vivek Ramaswamy, and the path forward for Republicans. 

What I heard didn’t surprise me, but it reinforced exactly why I’ve distanced myself from that station over the years. They used to have more Tea Party energy, real conservative voices in the programming and talent. But as Clear Channel evolved into the corporate middle-road sports-and-news machine, the anti-Trump corporate types gained the upper hand. Cunningham hasn’t been outright hostile, but Scott Sloan and others have leaned that way for a long time. Even Tucker Carlson types shifted toward stronger support for Trump over the years, but the station’s overall direction felt like it was cracking down on anything too disruptive to the ad-revenue model. I usually keep a radio on in the garage while I’m working on projects around the house—cars, the RV, whatever needs fixing. I catch snippets, but I don’t live by them. That Saturday was no different. 

They were discussing campaigns, and the guest was pushing the idea that candidates like Vivek and Jon need to distance themselves from Trump because he’s “baggage.” That was one of the dumbest pieces of advice I’ve heard in years. I’ve seen this game up close. I came out in favor of Jim Renacci in his races. I told him, straight after a Miami University event where he debated Sherrod Brown, that you left too much on the table. You were too nice. You didn’t hit hard enough on the things that matter—attack, attack, attack. That’s how you give voters something to show up for on Election Day. Not nice-guy politics. Voters don’t reward playing defense or hoping for fair coverage. They reward fighters. 

I remember sitting down for lunch with Bernie Moreno during his campaign. Smart young guy, full of energy. First question out of his mouth: “What do you think about Sherrod Brown?” I told him the truth. Bernie listened better than some. Trump endorsed him even from political exile at one point, and Bernie won. That’s the model. Trump showed the country you don’t win by playing the corporate media game, spending millions on traditional ad slots, and hoping the gatekeepers treat you fairly. He built his own platform, dominated podcasts, went directly to the people on YouTube, Rumble, X—free or low-cost reach that bypasses the old gatekeepers. 

That’s exactly what I heard critiqued on WLW that day. The narrative was that Republicans are in trouble in the polls, so they better spend more on ad revenue with stations like this one to close the gap. It’s the same old revenue-driven thinking. I know how radio works from the inside—I bought ads, I even hired Bill Cunningham back in the 90s as a spokesman for a project. They’ve got the big sales floor, the WLW 55KRC on the desk, and cubicles full of people chasing revenue. The belief is that if you don’t outspend Democrats on their airwaves, you won’t get fair play. But that’s nonsense. Trump broke the mold. He won without playing their game. He attacked relentlessly, defined the opposition, and created his own media reality. Elon Musk’s changes to X further eroded the old suppression model. Corporate media wants you scared into buying their slots. 

Look at the current Ohio landscape as we head toward November 2026. Vivek Ramaswamy crushed the Republican primary for governor with over 82% of the vote. Amy Acton, the former Health Director under DeWine during COVID, won the Democratic side unopposed. Polls have been tight—some showing Acton with a slight edge or dead heat, others giving Ramaswamy the advantage. But the fundamentals favor aggressive conservatism. 

Acton’s record is vulnerable. She was central to the lockdowns—closing schools and businesses, restricting gatherings, and even pushing to postpone the primary. Protesters showed up at her house. Republicans remember the economic pain, the overreach, the mutiny against the restrictions. She left the position in mid-2020 amid backlash. There’s plenty to attack there: the human cost of those policies, the constitutional questions, the long-term damage to kids’ education and small businesses. Playing nice or treating her as some neutral public servant won’t cut it. Voters respond to reminders of why these approaches failed. 

Jon Husted (often referenced in these discussions) has his own path, whether in the Senate or in other roles, but the principle is the same. Distancing from Trump is terrible advice. Trump remains enormously popular with the base. People still love him for what he represents—fighting the establishment, delivering results, refusing to bow. Running away from that energy is how you lose enthusiasm. Embrace it. Remind voters why the alternatives are worse. 

My friend Senator George Lang is a perfect example of what works. He’s won repeatedly in his district by being aggressive when challenged. He’s a nice guy personally, but he doesn’t hesitate to go after opponents metaphorically—hard. That’s how you deter challenges and win decisively. I’ve watched him rise because he understands the arena. Same with Trump: attacked from every direction, impeachments, lawfare, assassination attempts, and he keeps fighting back. That resilience resonates. Jim Renacci, for all his strengths, played too nice against Sherrod Brown, and it showed. I told him as much in the parking lot after that debate. You can’t leave domestic issues, policy failures, or character questions on the table. 

Corporate radio personalities like the ones I heard that day know how to stay employed. They tow a line that keeps the ad dollars flowing and the golf invitations coming from the “titans of industry” crowd. Many in corporate media have migrated toward softer, more socialist-friendly positions because control through authority and supply chains appeals to the management mindset. They want to be like Fox or MSNBC in their own way—mouthpieces that don’t rock the boat too much. Podcasts and independent platforms threaten that. That’s why you hear the suppression polls and the fear-mongering about Republican chances unless they buy more airtime. 

I’ve lived this for decades in Butler County and the Cincinnati area. From my time as a young man handling logistics in some rough circles—Newport and Sharonville—learning coded signals, plausible deniability, and how power really operates, to my days deeply involved in downtown Cincinnati politics and infrastructure projects. I’ve seen the game from multiple angles. The lesson is consistent: nice guys finish last when the other side plays for keeps. Democrats attack relentlessly. They use lawfare, media allies, every tool—Republicans who mirror that energy and define the contrast win.

The data backs the fighter approach. Trump’s 2024 victory, Bernie Moreno’s success against Brown, the enthusiasm in grassroots circles—these come from unapologetic messaging. In Ohio, with its mix of suburban, rural, and working-class voters, reminding people of the failures of lockdown policies, high taxes, and education issues in places like Lakota, as well as the broader cultural drift, works. Vivek brings energy, business success, and a willingness to challenge the status quo. Pair that with relentless attacks on the opposition’s record, and the path is clear. 

This is bigger than one radio segment. It’s about the shift in media and politics. Traditional outlets are losing ground because people see through the bias. Podcasts like mine, independent voices, direct communication—these are where real conversations happen. I dictate these essays as first-person narratives because that’s authentic. No scripts, no corporate filters. Just truth as I’ve lived it, backed by history, personal experience, and observation.

My book The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business lays out similar principles: impose your will on circumstances, prepare relentlessly, strike decisively. The same ethos applies to politics. The whip I carry as a symbol—discipline, precision, deterrence—fits here too. You don’t win by being soft. You win by being ready.

As we move through 2026, I’ll keep helping where I can—locally in Butler County, supporting strong candidates who understand the fight. Republicans don’t need to defend or chase poll-driven ad spend endlessly. They need to attack the vulnerabilities: Acton’s COVID record, the broader Democrat policy failures, the corruption and two-tier systems we’ve seen. Democrats haven’t been “too smart to get caught”; they’ve benefited from institutional protection and media cover. Expose it.

Don’t listen to the Saturday afternoon analysis that tells you to run from Trump or play nice. Attack. Destroy the arguments. Give voters a reason to show up. That’s how Vivek Ramaswamy wins the governorship, how Jon Husted and others secure their seats, and how Ohio stays on the right track. Trump proved it nationally. George Lang proves it locally. History proves it repeatedly.

I’ve shared these thoughts before in various forms—on the podcast, in writings, in conversations with candidates. The response from people who get it is strong. The Overmanwarrior approach isn’t about blind aggression; it’s about moral clarity, preparation, and the will to impose order on chaos. Whether it’s troubleshooting a rocket launch with my grandson in bad weather or navigating political storms, the mindset is the same: adapt, strike, prevail.

Corporate media will keep pushing the narrative that fits their business model. Ignore it. The future belongs to those who build their own platforms and fight without apology. That’s the lesson from that rainy Saturday in the driveway, and it’s the one Ohio Republicans should heed as they head into November.

Further Reading / Bibliography (partial, expandable):

•  Ohio Secretary of State election results and polls.

•  Coverage from Ohio Capital Journal, AP, Wikipedia summaries on candidates.

•  Trump campaign analyses, Moreno Senate race reporting.

•  Personal works: The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, Tail of the Dragon.

•  Broader: Books on political strategy, corporate media influence, COVID policy impacts.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.

He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.

Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events

The Safety Marxists and The Right Stuff: Don’t let the New Glenn Explosion Slow Down Space Development

The explosion of Blue Origin’s New Glenn rocket on the evening of May 28, 2026, at Launch Complex 36 in Cape Canaveral Space Force Station sent a massive fireball into the Florida night sky, visible for miles across the Space Coast. The incident occurred during a static-fire test of the vehicle’s seven BE-4 methane engines as preparations advanced for the planned launch of Amazon Project Kuiper satellites. No injuries were reported, and the payload satellites had not yet been integrated, yet the blast destroyed the first stage, damaged the second stage, and inflicted significant harm on the launch infrastructure, including collapsed lightning towers and compromised ground systems. 

This event, while dramatic and costly in the short term, fits into a long pattern of challenges that have defined human spaceflight from its earliest days. The Space Coast, with its rich history of ambition and setback, absorbed another chapter in that story. Observers familiar with the area—its restaurants, beaches, and the electric atmosphere that builds before night launches—could imagine the shock felt by those gathered on Cocoa Beach with lawn chairs, expecting a spectacular light show but witnessing an uncontrolled conflagration instead. The infrastructure at Cape Canaveral has always accounted for such possibilities by deliberately spacing the pads, allowing continued operations even amid localized damage. Indeed, within hours, SpaceX successfully launched a Falcon 9 from a nearby complex, underscoring the resilience built into modern commercial space operations. 

The development of heavy-lift rockets has never been without risk. Blue Origin’s New Glenn, standing roughly 320 feet tall and designed as a reusable two-stage vehicle powered by innovative BE-4 engines, represents a serious contender in the emerging space economy. Its setback comes as the company works to close the gap with established players while contributing to NASA’s Artemis program, which aims to return humans to the Moon and establish a sustained presence there. Historical parallels abound. In the 1960s, the Apollo program endured multiple failures, including the tragic Apollo 1 fire that claimed three astronauts’ lives during a ground test. Engineers learned from those events, iterating rapidly under intense pressure. Similarly, the Space Shuttle era saw the 1986 Challenger disaster and Columbia’s loss in 2003, both rooted in technical vulnerabilities exposed under operational stress. These tragedies slowed momentum temporarily but ultimately reinforced the necessity of pushing boundaries rather than retreating into excessive caution. 

The phrase “The Right Stuff,” popularized by Tom Wolfe’s account of the Mercury Seven astronauts, captures the blend of courage, technical skill, and calculated risk that propelled early space exploration. Yet that era also demonstrated that safety in its purest form—zero tolerance for any anomaly—would have halted progress entirely. Test pilots and engineers accepted that prototypes and new systems carried inherent dangers. Leaks in propellant lines, valve failures, and unexpected combustion events were common during the frantic pace of the Space Race. Today’s commercial sector echoes this reality. SpaceX itself experienced numerous Falcon 1 failures before achieving orbital success and endured Starship test explosions that became public spectacles before rapid iterations led to operational reliability. These events highlight a core truth: progress in extreme engineering environments demands tolerance for learning through failure, especially when no crew is aboard.

In the case of the New Glenn incident, the anomaly likely stemmed from complexities in the fueling and pressurization systems—long runs of piping that transfer cryogenic propellants under high pressure. Such setups involve numerous seams, valves, and sensors where even minor imperfections can cascade. Static fire tests exist precisely to uncover these issues on the ground, far preferable to in-flight catastrophes. Blue Origin had achieved prior successes with earlier New Glenn vehicles, demonstrating the maturity of much of the architecture. The company’s track record before this event showed methodical advancement, free of major public mishaps. The response from leadership emphasized thorough investigation and a commitment to recovery, a stance aligned with the industry’s need to maintain cadence. 

Broader implications extend far beyond a single launchpad. The space economy promises transformative growth. Estimates suggest that extracting rare minerals from the Moon, asteroids, and Mars could unlock trillions in new value. Zero-gravity manufacturing offers advantages in producing flawless crystals, advanced alloys, and pharmaceuticals that are impossible to replicate efficiently on Earth. Orbital facilities, potentially spanning hundreds of thousands of square feet and serviced by autonomous systems, could host heavy industry where massive components are maneuvered with minimal force. Power generation from solar arrays in continuous sunlight, combined with vacuum conditions ideal for certain processes, positions space as the next frontier for economic expansion. Blue Origin, SpaceX, and others are laying infrastructure for this vision, with New Glenn intended to complement smaller vehicles in delivering heavy cargo for lunar bases and satellite constellations.

Critics who view such explosions as reasons to slow or more strictly regulate the sector often overlook historical precedent and economic logic. Overly restrictive safety regimes, sometimes influenced by broader societal trends favoring precaution over innovation, risk stifling the very dynamism required for breakthroughs. During the COVID-19 period, widespread shutdowns illustrated how prioritizing absolute safety can contract economic activity. Similar dynamics appear in debates over infrastructure projects, energy development, and now space. Proponents of rapid iteration argue that autonomous systems and robotic precursors should shoulder initial risks, allowing humans to follow once reliability improves. This approach mirrors early aviation and automotive industries, where rapid prototyping and field failures drove safety improvements over time.

The competition between Blue Origin and SpaceX exemplifies healthy market forces. New Glenn’s development has been watched closely as a potential counterbalance, encouraging faster innovation across the board. Setbacks for one player do not equate to industry-wide failure; rather, they test organizational resilience. SpaceX’s ability to launch the day after the New Glenn event demonstrated asset isolation and a rapid operational tempo. Blue Origin possesses additional vehicles in various stages of assembly. Activating parallel production lines, implementing extended shifts where feasible, and focusing engineering resources on root cause analysis could help compress recovery timelines. Historical examples support this: After Virgin Galactic’s 2014 SpaceShipTwo accident, the company rebuilt, iterated, and advanced toward commercial operations. Similar recoveries followed other high-profile incidents.

Calls to maintain schedules for Artemis-related missions reflect urgency around lunar return timelines targeted for the late 2020s. Delaying hardware availability could cascade into broader program slips. Sustained public and investor enthusiasm requires visible progress—regular news of launches, landings, and new capabilities. Filing necessary regulatory documentation with the FAA promptly, conducting transparent reviews, and returning to test campaigns signal commitment. The Space Coast community, long accustomed to the rhythms of launch windows, benefits from this continuity. Local economies tied to tourism, engineering talent, and supply chains thrive when activity remains high.

Robotics and artificial intelligence will play central roles in mitigating human risk during expansion. Tesla Optimus-style systems and advanced autonomy can handle hazardous assembly, refueling, and initial exploration tasks. Concerns about job displacement on Earth—exacerbated by wage policies that reduce hiring incentives—find partial resolution in new high-skill opportunities created by space infrastructure. Staffing orbital manufacturing would require oversight roles, maintenance expertise, and creative problem-solving that complement rather than replace human labor. The vision of floating facilities between Earth and Moon, processing lunar regolith into construction materials or extracting platinum-group metals, represents a multi-trillion-dollar opportunity that rewards those who move decisively.

Critics sometimes celebrate such explosions as brakes on capitalism in space, preferring centralized control or slower pacing aligned with terrestrial priorities. Yet the data suggests otherwise. Reusable architectures have already driven launch costs down dramatically, enabling constellations like Starlink that deliver global connectivity. Further reductions through heavy-lift vehicles will accelerate science, communications, Earth observation, and eventual off-world settlement. Mining asteroids could supply resources without the terrestrial environmental trade-offs associated with some mining operations. The long-term payoff justifies accepting manageable risks during development phases.

Learning from past programs remains essential. NASA’s early days involved accepting higher failure probabilities to achieve national goals. Private industry now carries much of that mantle, operating under market accountability that incentivizes efficiency. Blue Origin’s facility near the Space Coast showcases impressive engineering infrastructure. Leveraging that base, combined with lessons from the recent anomaly, positions the team for a rebound. Recommendations include prioritizing redundant systems in propellant handling, enhancing sensor density for early leak detection, and maintaining aggressive parallel development of follow-on vehicles.

The cultural dimension cannot be ignored. Narratives framing innovation as inherently dangerous sometimes serve to justify regulatory expansion rather than technical solutions. Balancing legitimate safety with progress requires distinguishing between reckless disregard and the informed risk inherent to frontier work. Test pilots of the 1950s and 1960s embodied the latter; modern rocket engineers continue that tradition. Public fascination with space endures because of visible achievement, not perfect safety records. Night launches lighting up the sky over Cocoa Beach remind onlookers of humanity’s reach beyond the planet.

In reflecting on the New Glenn event, several practical steps emerge for stakeholders. First, conduct a swift yet comprehensive investigation and share non-proprietary findings to benefit the industry. Second, repair and upgrade the launch complex while constructing contingency capabilities. Third, accelerate manufacturing of replacement hardware through multi-shift operations where workforce conditions allow. Fourth, engage regulators constructively to resume testing promptly. Fifth, communicate progress transparently to maintain confidence among partners like NASA and Amazon. These actions align with best practices observed in successful recovery cases.

The space economy’s trajectory points toward exponential growth. Initial billions in revenue from launches and services will expand into trillions as resource utilization scales. Manufacturing in microgravity could revolutionize materials science, producing superior semiconductors, fiber optics, and medical isotopes. Robotic precursors will establish outposts, followed by human crews supported by advanced life-support and propulsion systems. Starship-class vehicles are expected to serve as foundational transport, with complementary systems like New Glenn providing specialized heavy-lift capacity. Competition drives down costs and spurs ingenuity.

Skeptics who hoped the explosion would dampen momentum underestimate the sector’s adaptability. The isolation of launch infrastructure, proven redundancies, and private capital’s risk tolerance all favor continuation. For those invested in humanity’s multi-planetary future, the message is clear: analyze, adapt, and advance. The fireworks of May 28, 2026, while startling, illuminated both the challenges and the enduring allure of reaching for the stars.

Expanding on historical context, one must consider the Soviet N1 rocket program during the Moon race. Multiple catastrophic explosions on the pad during static tests delayed ambitions but provided data that informed later designs, even if political factors ultimately curtailed the effort. American Saturn V development faced engine instabilities and structural issues, which were resolved through iterative ground testing. Each failure refined understanding of combustion dynamics, materials under extreme loads, and control systems. Modern simulations and sensors offer greater insight, yet physical testing remains irreplaceable for uncovering subtle integration problems.

Economically, the multiplier effects of space activity extend deep into supply chains. Florida’s Space Coast employs thousands directly and indirectly. Tourism spikes around launches, while high-tech manufacturing attracts talent. A slowdown would ripple through these ecosystems. Maintaining tempo supports broader goals like climate monitoring satellites, disaster response, and technological spin-offs that improve daily life on Earth.

Philosophically, the tension between safety absolutism and exploratory daring echoes debates in other domains. Aviation advanced despite early crashes. Nuclear power improved safety records through experience despite accidents. Space demands similar maturity. Overemphasis on “safety tyrants”—those prioritizing zero incidents above all—can paralyze organizations, leading to bureaucratic bloat and opportunity costs. Instead, layered risk management, in which ground tests absorb early failures, allows for safe progression toward crewed missions.

Blue Origin’s path forward involves embodying that balanced approach. With vehicles in production, experienced teams, and strong backing, recovery is feasible within compressed timelines. Targeting return-to-flight before year’s end, while supporting Artemis milestones, would demonstrate resolve. The industry watches not just for technical fixes but for cultural signals: whether setbacks become excuses for delay or catalysts for acceleration.

In the end, the New Glenn explosion of late May 2026 joins a distinguished lineage of events that test character and capability. Those who treat it as temporary, learn its lessons, and press onward will shape the coming era of space industrialization. The fireball may have lit the sky briefly, but sustained effort will illuminate a future of expanded human presence beyond Earth. The Space Coast, with its resilient vibe and storied past, stands ready for the next chapter.

1.  Details drawn from contemporary reporting on the May 28, 2026, static fire anomaly.

2.  Tom Wolfe, The Right Stuff (1979), for cultural framing of risk in aerospace.

3.  NASA historical records on Apollo and Shuttle programs.

4.  Industry analyses of reusable rocket economics, including SpaceX flight cadence data.

5.  Projections on space resource utilization from various economic studies (e.g., asteroid mining valuations).

Bibliography

•  Wolfe, Tom. The Right Stuff. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1979.

•  NASA. “Apollo Program Summary.” Historical archives.

•  Spaceflight Now and Reuters coverage of the 2026 New Glenn event.

•  Economic reports on space mining potential (various sources, 2020s).

•  Virgin Galactic post-accident recovery documentation.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.

He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.

Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.

My friend with Dirty Shoes: Why America Thrives Through Its Wealth Builders and What Happens When Sudden Money Meets Human Nature

I have spent years observing the world around me in places like Middletown, Ohio, and reflecting on the stark differences between those who build lasting wealth and those who chase fleeting windfalls. The recent trip by President Trump to China, with a plane full of American billionaires, brought these observations into sharp focus for me. It was not just a diplomatic visit; it was a demonstration of economic strength, showcasing the very people who drive innovation, jobs, and growth. Critics on social media and in political circles often decry such figures, calling for higher taxes, wealth redistribution, and policies that would “take from the rich to give to us.” Yet, my experiences with friends, family, and neighbors who have won big at nearby casinos tell a different story—one of human nature, discipline, and the enduring value of creators over consumers. 

Trump’s journey to Beijing included leaders like Elon Musk of Tesla, Jensen Huang of Nvidia, Tim Cook of Apple, and others whose combined influence represents trillions in market value and countless jobs. China rolled out the red carpet in ways it hadn’t for previous administrations, precisely because it understands its reliance on American enterprise. China is a paper tiger, but its growth model depends heavily on foreign investment, technology transfer, and access to markets that value efficiency and scale. With a population far larger than America’s roughly 330 million, China has pursued manufacturing and infrastructure on a massive scale—jobs many in the West avoid—but it still seeks the dynamism that billionaires bring. By bringing these executives on Air Force One, Trump signaled leverage: American policy shapes opportunities, and those who generate wealth are key to expanding economies on both sides. 

This isn’t abstract theory. I know wealthy individuals personally, and their habits stand in contrast to stories I hear at the local casino. One friend, a multimillionaire in construction and development, always shows up with dirty shoes and calloused hands. He works the job sites himself and oversees projects that build condominiums in Florida, where snowbirds live comfortably for months each year, dining out nightly without worry. His wealth cascades: employees get steady pay, suppliers thrive, and retirees enjoy the fruits of his risk-taking. He doesn’t chase flashy displays; he reinvests to create more. This pattern repeats among true wealth creators. They treat money as a tool for expansion, not a ticket to indulgence. 

Contrast this with lottery and casino winners I have known. Near my home, the slots and tables draw crowds hoping for that life-changing hit. Some walk away with $15,000, $25,000, or even $100,000 checks. The stories that follow are depressingly familiar. One acquaintance won around $100,000 from insurance collections tied to a payout and quit his second job immediately. Overtime vanished. Within two years, the money disappeared—spent on cars, parties, and “trophy” living. He was back asking for help, bouncing checks, and debating between groceries and bills very soon. Another hit $15,000 on slots one weekend, celebrated by drinking and playing more, then bought big TVs and turned his basement into a “man cave” costing tens of thousands. Months later, broke again, he returned to the casino chasing the next jackpot. These aren’t isolated cases. I have seen inheritance recipients or family windfall beneficiaries do the same: quit work, lounge in front of daytime TV, blow through savings on impulse buys, and end up worse off. 

Statistics bear this out, adding sobering color. While the often-cited “70% of lottery winners go broke” figure has been debunked as originating from unverified claims at a 2001 symposium (the National Endowment for Financial Education later clarified it lacked research backing), more reliable data from the Certified Financial Planner Board of Standards indicates that nearly one-third of lottery winners eventually declare bankruptcy—higher than the general population. Many face this within 3-5 years. A MIT study on Florida lottery winners who were previously financially distressed found that winning only postponed bankruptcy rather than preventing it. Stories abound: Bud Post won $16.2 million in Pennsylvania in 1988 but was in debt within a year, hounded by family (including a murder-for-hire plot from his brother), and died nearly penniless on food stamps. Suzanne Mullins won $4.2 million in Virginia, yet lost it to loans and medical bills. Callie Rogers in the UK squandered her winnings on parties and surgery. The pattern is consumption without creation. 

Why does this happen so frequently? Psychology offers insights. Sudden wealth often meets unprepared minds shaped by scarcity thinking or addictive patterns. Without the discipline forged through years of earning and risking, money flows out faster than it came in. Social pressures mount—friends and relatives appear with hands out. Status symbols beckon: Corvettes, luxury trips, home upgrades that balloon in cost. I have watched people prioritize PlayStation subscriptions over groceries or blow windfalls on fleeting pleasures because their personalities lean toward immediate gratification rather than delayed compounding. Behavioral economists note that windfall recipients frequently exhibit higher marginal propensity to consume on non-essentials, lacking the habits of those who built wealth incrementally. 

Wealth creators operate differently. They exhibit traits such as future orientation, calculated risk-taking, and a focus on value generation. Elon Musk, for instance, pours resources into companies that push boundaries in electric vehicles, space, and AI—ventures that employ thousands and spawn entire ecosystems. CEOs, in general, create wealth for others: shareholders, employees, and communities. Studies on high-net-worth individuals show they often maintain hands-on involvement, reinvest heavily, and avoid lifestyle inflation that erodes capital. One analysis of affluent versus high-net-worth investors found the latter display confidence but channel it into ongoing projects rather than consumption. My multimillionaire friend with dirty shoes embodies this: he builds condos that house comfortable retirements, creates jobs that support families, and sustains businesses that keep local economies humming. Billionaires scale this principle globally. 

This distinction matters profoundly for policy. Socialism’s appeal—confiscating from the rich to redistribute—ignores these realities. Taking from creators to give to those with “bankrupt personalities,” as I call the chronic consumers, doesn’t produce prosperity; it funds more consumption. Parasitic tendencies, where individuals rely on government transfers or windfalls without building, lead to dependency. Casinos illustrate the microcosm: big payouts followed by returns to low-wage jobs or pleas for help. Government as the ultimate casino—promising jackpots through entitlements—breeds similar outcomes on a societal scale. Democrats and figures like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez often rail against billionaires, but history shows societies thrive with more of them, not fewer. America’s edge lies in its ability to foster creators who expand the pie rather than fight over slices. 

China’s economic story reinforces this. Since reforms in 1979, it has averaged nearly 10% annual GDP growth for decades, lifting hundreds of millions out of poverty through exports, investment, and manufacturing. Yet it remains hungry for American capital and know-how. Its model involves state direction, lower labor standards in some sectors, and a willingness to handle the “jobs we don’t want” in the U.S.—polluting industries, assembly lines, and resource extraction. With far more people, China can sustain volume, but innovation and high-value creation still draw from Western partnerships. Foreign direct investment (FDI) has been crucial; inflows reached highs amid global shifts. Trump’s delegation signaled that U.S. billionaires hold keys to further integration if terms favor American interests. China respects this leverage because its growth, while impressive, depends on external engines. U.S. GDP per capita remains far higher, reflecting productivity and the rule of law that reward creators. 

We need more millionaires and billionaires, not envy-driven policies to hobble them. More CEOs mean more opportunities cascading downward. Taxing success punitively discourages the risk-taking that built the Tesla and Apple ecosystems and construction empires. Instead, celebrate the dirty-shoes ethic: hard work, reinvestment, hands-on leadership. My observations align with broader patterns—materialists focused on status often report lower long-term satisfaction, while builders find purpose in creation. 

Expanding on the pitfalls of lotteries reveals deeper human frailties. Beyond bankruptcy stats, winners face family estrangement, depression, substance issues, and scams. One study noted neighbors of winners increase borrowing and bankruptcies due to social comparison—keeping up with sudden displays strains others. This “lottery curse” echoes in inheritances: sudden money without earned wisdom evaporates. In contrast, self-made wealth correlates with better management because it embeds lessons of scarcity, effort, and compounding. 

Consider Florida’s snowbirds again. Many live in multimillion-dollar condos, dining lavishly on seemingly endless income without daily grinds. Who enables this? Developers like my friend, whose projects multiply value. Scaled up, billionaires do the same nationally and internationally. They generate tax revenue far exceeding most—Elon Musk reportedly pays enormous sums—while funding innovations that improve lives: cheaper energy, better tech, and medical advances. Criticizing them as “greedy” overlooks their role as job creators and engines of opportunity. 

Critics pushing redistribution often overlook the destruction of incentives. If the government seizes wealth for “the people,” who becomes the new creator? Parasites—those unable or unwilling to manage resources—consume without replenishing. I have seen it locally: second-job quitters, inheritance squanderers, entitlement dependents. They form a constituency drawn to promises of free money, mirroring casino addicts chasing the next hit. America’s strength is its culture of aspiration, where anyone can climb by creating value. With only 300+ million people, we punch above our weight in GDP through productivity, not sheer numbers. Encouraging more creators expands this. 

Trump’s visit to China highlighted mutual dependence. China outpaces in raw growth metrics at times due to demographics and policy, but America’s innovation ecosystem—fueled by risk-takers—remains the gold standard. Billionaires on that plane weren’t just passengers; they represented the market access and expertise China needs. Respect shown to Trump reflected recognition of this dynamic. Previous presidents lacked the same business acumen or the same leverage to display. 

Personal reflection deepens my conviction. Knowing rich people who work relentlessly, rather than casino regulars cycling through highs and lows, convinces me that character and mindset trump circumstance. Wealthy individuals I admire avoid dumb spending; they buy assets that produce more. Consumers chase experiences or goods that depreciate instantly. This gap explains societal outcomes. Policies that reward consumption through redistribution erode the foundation that creators provide. We should aim for more dirty-shoes millionaires building empires, not vilify them.  Lottery winners buying mansions only to lose them to upkeep, or facing lawsuits from sudden “friends,” underscore isolation. One winner built a bowling alley that drained funds. Another’s family demanded shares, leading to rifts. Meanwhile, self-made billionaires like Musk endure scrutiny but persist, creating Starlink, EVs, and reusable rockets that benefit humanity. The asymmetry is clear: creators endure for legacy; windfall recipients often implode due to a lack of preparation. 

The Trump China trip with billionaires celebrated American dynamism. It showed why we need more such figures—CEOs, entrepreneurs, builders—who generate wealth that sustains societies. Lottery lessons warn against easy-money illusions. Human nature favors discipline and creation over consumption. Socialism’s confiscation appeals emotionally but fails practically by ignoring these truths. I advocate protecting and encouraging wealth creators; they make the world go around, enabling comfortable lives for millions. More billionaires mean more opportunity, innovation, and shared prosperity. America’s secret sauce is its producers. Cherish them, emulate their habits, and watch economies flourish. 

Footnotes

1.  Observations on local casino behaviors drawn from personal acquaintance over the years.

2.  Data on bankruptcy rates from CFP Board and related studies.

3.  Details on Trump’s delegation from public reports.

4.  China’s economic reliance on FDI from the World Bank and trade analyses.

5.  Psychological insights from consumer behavior research.

Bibliography

•  Certified Financial Planner Board of Standards reports on lottery winners.

•  MIT study on Florida lottery bankruptcy postponement.

•  NEFE clarification on 70% statistic.

•  CRS Report on China’s Economic Rise.

•  Various Forbes, USA Today, and academic papers on wealth psychology and FDI.

•  Public news on Trump’s China visit (PBS, Fox, etc.).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.

He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.

Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.

‘Melania,’: The Billie Jean of Politics

The recent release of the documentary film Melania, directed by Brett Ratner and distributed by Amazon MGM Studios, offers a compelling behind-the-scenes glimpse into the life of First Lady Melania Trump during the pivotal 20 days leading up to President Donald Trump’s second inauguration in January 2025. This project, which followed her 2024 memoir Melania (published by Skyhorse on October 8, 2024), extends the intimate, personal narrative she began in print, providing viewers with unprecedented access to her daily routines, family moments, White House transition preparations, and interactions at locations like Mar-a-Lago and Trump Tower.

The film arrives at a time when Melania Trump has stepped more visibly into the public eye, leveraging her platform to advocate for causes such as children’s welfare, anti-bullying initiatives (echoing her earlier Be Best campaign), and upward mobility. Her memoir, released just weeks before the 2024 election, framed her perspective on life in the spotlight, her Slovenian roots under communism, her modeling career, her marriage to Donald Trump, and her priorities as a mother and wife. The documentary builds on this, presenting her as a grounding influence on her husband—someone who brings elegance, class, and a measured outlook to the often chaotic world of politics. Observers familiar with her world note that her background, roughly aligned with those who came of age during the Reagan era, informs her values: a blend of capitalist ambition forged from escaping a communist system, combined with a deliberate choice to prioritize family over constant public engagement.

Attending the film’s opening day in a local theater proved surprisingly challenging; despite assumptions that theaters would be empty amid streaming dominance and polarized politics, the showing was packed, forcing seats in the handicap-accessible section to sit together. This turnout reflects broader enthusiasm among supporters, who view the project as more than mere entertainment—it’s a cultural artifact capturing a unique historical moment. Box office figures underscore this interest: the film opened to approximately $8 million domestically, marking one of the strongest theatrical debuts for a non-concert documentary in over a decade, far exceeding initial low projections of $3-5 million in some estimates.

The production’s scale has drawn scrutiny. Amazon MGM Studios acquired rights for a reported $40 million—the highest ever for a documentary—with additional tens of millions in marketing, leading to speculation about motives, including potential alignment with the administration given Amazon founder Jeff Bezos’s past criticisms and recent shifts in media coverage. Melania Trump has described the work not strictly as a documentary but as an entertainment piece—a creative, observational portrait akin to a painting, allowing audiences to sit with her character amid major events. This framing emphasizes its artistic merit over pure journalism, offering a positive, aspirational view of leadership, family, and personal resilience.

Critics from the left have responded with notable aggression, including campaigns to suppress attendance or mock empty screenings in certain areas, echoing longstanding animosity toward Melania Trump. Much of this stems from her choices: a former fashion model who opted for a private life, raising her son as a dedicated homemaker while married to a billionaire, rejecting the societal push for constant careerism or public activism. Her beauty, poise, and “golden tower” existence—insulated yet purposeful—provoke resentment among those who see it as unattainable or unfair. Radical elements decry her as out of touch, yet her narrative promotes unity, positive thinking, and bridging divides, ideals she hopes to advance in her second tenure as First Lady.

This backlash reveals a deeper divide: one side embraces high standards, personal responsibility, and optimism, while the other clings to victimhood narratives shielded by government dependency or lowered expectations. The film’s positive portrayal—reliving inauguration day from an insider’s view, showcasing Mar-a-Lago elegance, and highlighting mutual respect in the Trumps’ partnership—challenges that. It suggests Donald Trump’s success owes much to Melania’s stabilizing influence; their union combines his bold energy with her grace, creating a dynamic suited to executive leadership.

Ultimately, the documentary and memoir together solidify a vision of America aspiring upward. They invite viewers to witness a high bar of excellence—strong families, positive momentum, and unapologetic success—and ask whether reconciliation across divides is possible without compromising those standards. History shows that extending hands has often meant lowering expectations to appease radicals, but this era signals a rejection of that path. The enthusiastic reception, despite polarized reviews, indicates many Americans are drawn to this message of inspiration over grievance.

Walking out of the theater after viewing the documentary Melania, the underlying reasons for our societal divisions became starkly apparent, revealing why true reconciliation may be impossible. Melania Trump, through this film, embodies a philosophy aligned with her husband’s lifelong approach: showcasing personal success as a beacon for others. She presents her life—marked by elegance, family devotion, and achievement—as a high bar, inviting viewers to aspire to similar heights. “Look at what I’ve accomplished,” the narrative implies, “and let me show you how you can do it too.” It’s an optimistic, empowering message rooted in positive thinking and upward mobility, offering a behind-the-scenes glimpse into a world of high standards and mutual respect within the Trump family.

Yet, this vision clashes irreconcilably with the core tenets of left-wing politics, which thrive on below-the-line thinking and perpetual victimization. Progressive ideologies prioritize lowering expectations across all facets of life, from labor unions that resist performance-based accountability to broader policies that dismantle judgments on behavior. The goal is a society where “anything goes,” shielded from scrutiny or consequences, allowing individuals to avoid the discomfort of striving. In this worldview, high achievers like Melania—beautiful, poised, and unapologetically successful—become targets of resentment. Her choice to live insulated in a “golden tower,” prioritizing motherhood and privacy over relentless public engagement, is seen not as inspirational but as an affront to those who demand equality through diminished standards.

The hatred directed at the film, the Trumps, and conservative politics stems precisely from this refusal to embrace low bars. Critics on the radical left reject any invitation to elevate themselves, viewing expectations as oppressive. They weaponize peer pressure, media campaigns, and even violence to maintain a status quo of minimal accountability, relying on expansive government to protect them from life’s demands. No amount of kindness or outreach can bridge this gap; as long as one side insists on stripping away standards while the other upholds them, division persists. This dynamic ensures ongoing discontent, where unity requires conservatives to compromise their values—a concession that history shows only erodes societal progress. Melania’s documentary, in highlighting this high-bar ethos, underscores that true advancement demands forcing elevation, not appeasement, even if it invites backlash from those unwilling to rise.  Which makes this a uniquely valuable work of art that everyone should see.

Beyond its political and cultural insights, Melania stands as a genuine work of art, masterfully capturing a singular perspective on life in the United States during one of its most transformative periods. The film peels back layers of privacy with deliberate, cinematic flair, offering intimate access to Melania Trump’s world while maintaining an aura of grandeur and mystique. The setup shots—particularly those at Trump Tower, the seamless transitions into motorcades, and the fluid movement through opulent spaces—evoke a sense of controlled revelation, where the viewer is invited in but never fully overwhelms the subject’s carefully guarded essence.

This approach strikingly recalls how Michael Jackson promoted his iconic videos and shared glimpses of his private life in documentaries like those surrounding Thriller or his personal specials. Jackson, too, balanced extreme fame with deliberate barriers—veils of security, secluded estates, and a projected image of positivity—to protect himself from constant intrusion while uplifting audiences through aspirational artistry. He let people peek behind the curtain just enough to humanize the icon, fostering connection without sacrificing enigma. In Melania, similar techniques unfold: the film grants behind-the-scenes access to high-stakes moments, yet it preserves her poise and detachment, turning personal vulnerability into inspiration.

A particularly revealing moment underscores this parallel. In the car during one of her travels, Melania shares that Michael Jackson is her favorite artist, with “Billie Jean” as her top song (alongside “Thriller”). The track plays, and she sings along quietly, even briefly, in a rare, unguarded display—echoing the Carpool Karaoke-style intimacy Jackson sometimes allowed in his own media moments. She recalls meeting him once with Donald Trump, describing him as “very sweet, very nice.” This scene isn’t mere filler; it humanizes her, showing a shared appreciation for Jackson’s method of blending private authenticity with mass appeal. By channeling that same strategy—projecting positivity, offering selective insight, and inviting upliftment—Melania crafts a presentation that feels wholesome and enduring.

Ultimately, this Michael Jackson-inspired approach to marketing her lifestyle and perspective proves remarkably effective. It transforms what could have been a dry political portrait into something engaging and aspirational, likely contributing to the film’s success in theaters and its anticipated streaming draw. Melania isn’t just a documentary; it’s a thoughtfully composed invitation to see excellence up close, much like Jackson’s legacy of turning personal narrative into global inspiration. Everyone should see it—it’s a compelling, artful reminder of how high standards and positive projection can resonate in turbulent times.

For those interested in exploring further:

•  Melania Trump’s memoir Melania (Skyhorse Publishing, 2024) provides the foundational personal account.<sup>1</sup>

•  Coverage of the film’s production and release details Amazon’s involvement and box office performance.<sup>2</sup>

•  Analyses of public reactions and political context offer broader insights into cultural divisions.<sup>3</sup>

The work stands as a testament to individual agency in turbulent times, reminding us that true unity requires elevation, not concession.

<sup>1</sup> Wikipedia entry on Melania (memoir), confirming October 8, 2024 release.

<sup>2</sup> Reports from The Hollywood Reporter and Variety on opening weekend earnings around $8 million.

<sup>3</sup> Various sources including The New York Times and The Guardian on Amazon’s investment and criticisms.

Rich Hoffman

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

Good and Bad Protests: It all comes down to free elections

In the realm of global politics, protests serve as a barometer of societal discontent, yet their legitimacy often hinges on the nature of the regime they challenge. Distinguishing between “good” and “bad” protesters requires an examination of context: are they rallying against an elected, representative government, or are they resisting tyrannical rule? This question came into sharp focus during the 2020 protests in Minneapolis, Minnesota, which erupted following the death of George Floyd in police custody on May 25, 2020. These demonstrations, part of the broader Black Lives Matter movement, quickly escalated into widespread unrest, including looting, arson, and clashes with law enforcement, resulting in an estimated $500 million in damages across the Twin Cities area.  In contrast, protests in countries like Venezuela, Hong Kong, and Iran have often been viewed through a different lens by the United States—supported as righteous uprisings against oppressive dictatorships. The key difference lies in the foundational principles of democracy, free will, and self-governance. Protests in the U.S. that aim to undermine policies enacted by a duly elected administration, such as those under President Donald Trump, border on sedition, while those abroad that seek to dismantle authoritarian structures align with American values of liberty and human rights. If we explore these distinctions, delving into historical and contemporary contexts, the role of money and culture in measuring societal value, the mechanics of representative republics versus mob rule, and the perils of communist influences attempting to exploit civil unrest for revolutionary ends.

To understand the Minneapolis protests, one must first grasp their origins and evolution. On May 25, 2020, George Floyd, a 46-year-old African American man, was arrested by Minneapolis police officers on suspicion of using a counterfeit $20 bill. During the arrest, Officer Derek Chauvin knelt on Floyd’s neck for over nine minutes, leading to his death, which was ruled a homicide.  Video footage of the incident, captured by bystanders, went viral, igniting outrage over police brutality and systemic racism. Protests began the next day, initially peaceful, with thousands gathering at the site of Floyd’s death on East 38th Street and Chicago Avenue.  However, by May 27, the demonstrations turned violent, with looting at stores like Target and Cub Foods, and arson setting fire to buildings along Lake Street, including the Third Precinct police station, which protesters overran and burned.  Over the following days, the unrest spread to Saint Paul and other cities, leading to 604 arrests, 164 arsons, and two deaths during the initial phase from May 26 to June 7.  The protests were characterized by demands for police reform, but they also included calls to defund or abolish police departments, which critics argued amounted to an assault on established law and order.

These events occurred against the backdrop of the Trump administration’s policies, particularly on immigration and law enforcement, which protesters often decried as oppressive. Trump’s approach emphasized strict border control, including the construction of a border wall and enhanced deportation efforts, aimed at enforcing existing laws passed by Congress.  In Minnesota, a state with significant immigrant communities, some protests intertwined racial justice with immigration issues, portraying federal policies as tools of suppression. Yet, from the perspective of election legitimacy, these protests challenged the outcomes of the 2016 election, where Trump was elected on a platform promising stronger law enforcement and border security. The 2020 election, which saw Trump lose amid widespread mail-in voting due to the COVID-19 pandemic, further fueled debates over electoral integrity. Claims of irregularities, such as unverified mail ballots and changes to voting rules by state officials without legislative approval, led to lawsuits and audits, though courts largely upheld the results.  Protesters in Minneapolis, by seeking to force policy changes through disruption rather than the ballot box, exemplified what some view as seditious behavior—actions that undermine a government chosen by the people.

Sedition, as defined in U.S. law under 18 U.S.C. § 2384, involves conspiring to overthrow or oppose by force the authority of the government or to prevent the execution of its laws.  Historically, sedition laws have been controversial, dating back to the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798, which criminalized false statements against the government amid fears of French influence.  These acts were repealed, but similar provisions resurfaced in the Espionage Act of 1917 and its 1918 amendments, targeting anti-war speech during World War I.  In modern times, sedition charges are rare due to First Amendment protections, requiring speech to incite imminent lawless action per Brandenburg v. Ohio (1969).  However, the Minneapolis unrest, with its destruction of public property and calls to dismantle police forces enforcing federal and state laws, raised questions about whether such actions crossed into seditious territory. Critics argue that while peaceful protest is protected, violence aimed at policy overthrow bypasses democratic processes, echoing the point that these actions seek to subvert a government “picked by the people.”

Contrast this with protests in Venezuela, where demonstrators have long challenged the authoritarian regime of Nicolás Maduro. Since 2013, Venezuelans have protested against economic collapse, hyperinflation, shortages, and political repression under Maduro’s socialist government, which succeeded Hugo Chávez’s Bolivarian Revolution.  Major waves occurred in 2014, following the attempted rape of a student and subsequent arrests, leading to 43 deaths and thousands of arrests.  In 2017, protests intensified over Maduro’s attempts to consolidate power, including dissolving the opposition-led National Assembly. By 2019, opposition leader Juan Guaidó declared himself interim president, sparking massive demonstrations against Maduro’s fraudulent re-election in 2018, where voter turnout was artificially inflated and opposition candidates were barred.  The U.S. supported these protests, recognizing Guaidó and imposing sanctions on Maduro’s regime to pressure for democratic restoration.  Unlike Minneapolis, these protests targeted a regime that suppressed elections, jailed opponents, and relied on violence to maintain control, aligning with U.S. interests in promoting self-governance.

Similarly, Hong Kong’s 2019 pro-democracy protests arose from opposition to an extradition bill that would allow transfers to mainland China, threatening the city’s autonomy under the “one country, two systems” framework established in 1997.  Beginning in March 2019, millions marched peacefully, but clashes with police escalated, involving tear gas, rubber bullets, and arrests.  Protesters demanded withdrawal of the bill, an inquiry into police brutality, and universal suffrage for legislative and chief executive elections.  The U.S. condemned China’s crackdown, passing the Hong Kong Human Rights and Democracy Act in November 2019 to support protesters and sanction officials.  These actions were seen as resistance to communist encroachment by the Chinese Communist Party, which imposed a national security law in 2020, leading to mass arrests and the erosion of freedoms. 

In Iran, the 2022 protests following the death of Mahsa Amini in morality police custody highlighted resistance to theocratic rule.  Amini, arrested for improper hijab, died on September 16, 2022, sparking nationwide demonstrations led by women removing veils and chanting “Woman, Life, Freedom.”  The regime responded with violence, killing at least 551 protesters, including 68 children, and arresting thousands.  The U.S. supported these protests by easing sanctions on technology to aid communication and condemning the repression.  Unlike U.S. protests, these aimed to dismantle a regime that denies free elections and enforces religious law through brutality.

The U.S. has historically backed such international protests as vehicles for promoting democracy and human rights.  In Venezuela, the Trump administration recognized Guaidó and imposed sanctions to isolate Maduro.  For Hong Kong, bipartisan legislation provided support against Chinese influence.  In Iran, statements and actions affirmed solidarity with protesters seeking freedom.  This aligns with America’s foundational values, where money measures initiative and ownership, fostering a culture of self-reliance and free will. In representative republics, citizens elect officials to enact policies, as in Trump’s immigration agenda, which prioritized enforcement to preserve national sovereignty.  Protests forcing change through violence confuse this with direct democracy, potentially leading to majority tyranny.

Election integrity is central to this distinction. The 2020 U.S. election faced scrutiny over mail-in ballots, with claims of fraud in swing states like Georgia and Pennsylvania.  Audits and lawsuits revealed serious issues.  In contrast, regimes like Maduro’s rig elections, justifying protests as the only recourse.  Elections are rigged in other countries, and its hard to admit that it has been happening in America.  Concern about “mail balls made up in a Walmart parking lot” echoes debates over ballot security, highlighting why preserving electoral processes is vital to prevent insurrection.

Underlying U.S. protests, is communist infiltration via progressive politics.  Historical fears, like McCarthyism in the 1950s, targeted alleged communist subversion.  Today, claims persist of cultural Marxism influencing movements like BLM, seen as platforms to usher in socialism by undermining capitalism and family structures.  In Minneapolis, some viewed protests as exploiting civil rights for communist ends, contrasting with genuine struggles abroad against actual communist dictators.

The difference boils down to intent and system: U.S. protests against elected policies risk sedition, while those abroad against tyranny merit support. Preserving free elections, resisting infiltration, and valuing self-governance ensure America’s republic endures, unlike faraway places lacking such freedoms.

Bibliography

1.  Wikipedia. “George Floyd protests in Minneapolis–Saint Paul.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Floyd_protests_in_Minneapolis%E2%80%93Saint_Paul

2.  The New York Times. “George Floyd Protests: A Timeline.” https://www.nytimes.com/article/george-floyd-protests-timeline.html

3.  CNN. “How George Floyd’s death reignited a movement.” https://www.cnn.com/2021/05/21/us/gallery/george-floyd-protests-2020-look-back

4.  Wikipedia. “Protests against Nicolás Maduro.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Protests_against_Nicol%C3%A1s_Maduro

5.  Amnesty International. “Human rights in Venezuela.” https://www.amnesty.org/en/location/americas/south-america/venezuela/report-venezuela

6.  Wikipedia. “2019–2020 Hong Kong protests.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2019%E2%80%932020_Hong_Kong_protests

7.  Amnesty International. “Hong Kong’s protests explained.” https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2019/09/hong-kong-protests-explained

8.  Wikipedia. “Mahsa Amini protests.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mahsa_Amini_protests

9.  House of Commons Library. “Two-year anniversary of the Mahsa Amini protests in Iran.” https://commonslibrary.parliament.uk/two-year-anniversary-of-the-mahsa-amini-protests-in-iran

10.  U.S. Code. “18 USC Ch. 115: TREASON, SEDITION, AND SUBVERSIVE ACTIVITIES.” https://uscode.house.gov/view.xhtml?edition=prelim&path=%2Fprelim%40title18%2Fpart1%2Fchapter115

11.  Cornell Law School. “Sedition.” https://www.law.cornell.edu/wex/sedition

12.  Wikipedia. “Attempts to overturn the 2020 United States presidential election.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attempts_to_overturn_the_2020_United_States_presidential_election

13.  Wikipedia. “McCarthyism.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McCarthyism

14.  The Heritage Foundation. “The Secret Communist Movement Inside America.” https://www.heritage.org/progressivism/commentary/the-secret-communist-movement-inside-america

Footnotes

1.  For more on the economic impact of the Minneapolis riots, see the Property Claim Services report estimating damages at over $2 billion nationwide.

2.  The U.N. Fact-Finding Mission on Iran documented extrajudicial executions during the 2022 protests.

3.  Historical sedition cases, like the Hollywood Ten, illustrate how fears of communism led to blacklisting in the 1950s.<|control12|>

Rich Hoffman

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

UFO Over West Chester, Ohio: Needing to know what we need to know

Witness statements indicated, “I was driving the northbound lanes of I-75 before Thanksgiving—just the steady crawl of rush hour through West Chester—when a shape where no shape should be caught my eye. Not a streak, not a flare, not the lazy oval of a blimp dragging an ad across the horizon, but a blue-gray rectangle that looked like someone had taken the idea of a stadium banner and carved it into geometry: thin, wide, and impossibly still against the evening sky. The first reaction was mundane: a banner tow. You see them every summer drifting over ballparks, or on fair weekends when traffic is thick, and attention is cheap. But banners have parents—a plane, a line, a sound. This object had none. It hung there, maybe five miles out over the Tylersville exit, tilted at roughly forty-five degrees of elevation, its edges too crisp to be cloud and too steady to be balloon. Ten minutes passed in that ordinary twenty-mile-per-hour way West Chester makes you count time. Then it vanished, not like a fade into haze or a slip behind trees, but like a television cut to black.”¹ ²

Dash cams make you honest in moments like that. One recorded the rectangle; a passenger kept describing it like a sign with no tether, and when the driver pulled up a tracking app, there was no aircraft to match the sightline or altitude. The account went into the National UFO Reporting Center—the place witnesses still go when something refuses easy categorization—as Report #194307, timestamped 5:02 PM local on November 22, 2025, with the witnesses noting “blue/gray,” “thinner than it was wide,” “not rising or descending,” and then the sudden “just vanished.” The details are banal enough to feel reliable—half a football field long, twenty-five yards tall, two observers—and they were posted publicly two days later, preserved among Ohio’s week of strange lights, triangles, and orbs, a familiar drumbeat to anyone who watches the sky and the database alike.³ ⁴

If you live between Cincinnati and Dayton, you learn two parallel languages for this kind of thing. One is the folklore of Wright-Patterson—the base up the road near Dayton, where Project Blue Book once lived. That’s the part of the Ohio myth that keeps a Blue Room and a Hangar 18 in the popular imagination, a Cold War apology of sorts, where pancakes analyzed as “terrestrial origin” and brake drums mistaken for meteors share archival space with seven hundred reports that stubbornly remain “unidentified.” The Air Force ended Blue Book in 1969, insisting they had found no threat and no proof of vehicles beyond current scientific knowledge, which is a bureaucratic way of saying: we saw a lot, we explained most, we couldn’t prove the rest. The legends survived anyway—Magruder’s alleged living alien, Goldwater denied access—and in every new sighting, the old echoes are never far.⁵ ⁶

The other language is more modern, even prosaic. Over the last few years, drone displays have taught us just how convincingly geometry can be painted onto the night. We’ve watched swarms draw logos and lattices, and we’ve seen how quickly human eyes—trained for jets and contrails—misread the choreography of coordinated LEDs. The Pentagon’s shift from “UFO” to “UAP” was meant to widen the frame and cool the fever, and some saner voices remind us that restricted airspace near bases and airports breeds both genuine hazards and exaggerated anxiety. In the more careful telling, many anomalies flatten into drones, balloons, or satellites—but not all of them, and the residue is where our curiosity lives.⁷ ⁸

So what do we do with a rectangle the size of half a football field, floating at a fixed altitude over one of Ohio’s densest corridors, unconnected to any tow, present for ten minutes, then gone? The instinct is to sort it into bins. First, the explainable: balloons can look rectangular when they present edge-on and when the light is low; banners misperceived from certain angles can hide their tow behind line‑of‑sight obstacles; even a drone swarm can, briefly, make you see a plane of light where none exists. NUFORC itself asks reporters to eliminate common misidentifications—such as Starlink trains, planetary brightness, and lens artifacts—before they submit, precisely because the database works best when the obvious is stripped away.³ ⁹ ¹⁰

Second, the engineered: a test article or a proof‑of‑concept flown where human attention is not just likely but guaranteed. There’s a plausible logic to public‑reaction tests—dense traffic, a holiday week, a shape that defies aerodynamics because lift, in a world of new propulsion methods, may no longer require wings, and then an exit, instant and clean, like a cloak or a switch. This is the territory where speculation about “anti-gravity” migrates from sci-fi to serious skepticism. Physicists will tell you—with justification—that gravity control would require overturning or bridging gaps in general relativity and quantum theory in ways that leave fingerprints in supply chains, training pipelines, and infrastructure long before you ever see a box in the sky. No such fingerprints exist in the open literature. But classified programs do not publish literature, and aerospace history is full of moments where rumors covered for stealth experiments—the F-117 era taught us that shadows can be policy.¹¹ ¹² ⁵ ²

Third, the truly anomalous: objects that violate expectations in ways that not only resist quick explanation but survive careful review. Congress has held hearings; videos have appeared of spheres surviving missile strikes; arguments rage between those who see proof of something nonhuman and those who see adversarial drones or doctored footage. In this climate, a rectangle over West Chester is a datapoint, not a revelation—proof only that ordinary observers can still capture experiences that are both specific and strange.¹³ ¹⁴

I keep returning to the witnesses’ matter-of-fact tone. They thought it was a banner. They looked for the plane. They checked a tracker. They watched ten minutes of banality turn into a cut‑to‑black. When you read enough reports, you learn to distrust melodrama and treasure the grocery‑list clarity: location, angle, size, color, duration, exit. And you notice patterns. The Middletown area has had its share—green lights, rotating clusters, sudden movements—sometimes later suspected as hoaxes, sometimes left open, but always recorded against the backdrop of a region that knows its sky is watched, both by enthusiasts and by institutions.¹⁵ ¹⁶ ⁴

West Chester isn’t a small place; nearly 67,000 people live there, more when you count commuters stacked north and south along the highway. Two reported this event publicly. You might read that as stigma or inattention or simply as the mathematics of surprise—most eyes look down in traffic, and most minds file anomalies under “not my problem.” I read it as exactly the reaction a test designer would want, if a test designer were the cause: enough witnesses to produce a credible record, not enough to produce a panic; a durable description; a fleeting presence. But I also read it as the kind of event that keeps the UAP conversation grounded in observation rather than theology. It happened; it was seen; it was logged; it remains unexplained.¹ ³ ¹⁷ ¹⁸

What I think—what I can responsibly think—is that the West Chester rectangle belongs in the small pile of structured, time-bound events with physical witnesses and minimal narrative inflation. It is not a banner because it lacked a tow; it is not a blimp because it lacked the telltale volume and motion; it is not a satellite or planet because it was near‑horizon, large, and dynamic; it might be a balloon if we can imagine a rectangular skin presenting edge‑on; it might be a projection if we can imagine sufficient power and stability in twilight air; it might be a test article if we can imagine the operational risk tolerance for flying a box over a suburban corridor. None of those conditionals settles into certainty. That’s the point.³ ⁹ ¹¹ ⁷

If you ask whether I think little green men took a leisurely hover over Butler County, I don’t. I think human curiosity and human capability—military, commercial, or hobbyist—explain most of what we see, and that the remainder is the frontier where we measure our assumptions. Project Blue Book concluded with the triad that has aged well: no threat proven, no extraordinary technology proven, no extraterrestrial vehicles proven. That’s not a denial; it’s an honest boundary. The rectangle over West Chester sits at that boundary, crisp against a November sky, now a record in a database, now a short local video, now a story told between rush‑hour brake lights, the kind of thing that keeps us looking up because for ten minutes—and then no minutes—it was there.⁶ ³ ⁵

And somewhere north on I-75, past the malls and office parks, a place that once housed America’s best cataloguers of aerial oddities bears the weight of our speculations. The myths around its hangars probably say more about us than about anything kept behind a badge line. But they remind us that Ohio has always been a stage for this theater: everyday people, skyward glances, reports written after kids are fed and dishes done, patience in the face of ambiguity. If the rectangle turns out, in five or ten years, to have been a test of optics or propulsion, we’ll nod and add a footnote. If it remains a rectangle without a parent, we’ll add a different footnote: seen, recorded, unexplained. That’s enough to warrant a paragraph in the ever-growing chronicle of UAP over America’s heartland, but not enough to satisfy the urges of curiosity and the need to know what we need to know.⁵ ⁶ ³

When you start connecting the dots across Butler County, the story becomes harder to dismiss. The West Chester sighting in November 2025 wasn’t an isolated anomaly—it echoes an almost identical event seven or eight years earlier over Monroe. That earlier case, often referred to as the “Middletown UFO,” even has video evidence circulating on YouTube. Two sightings, separated by years but sharing the same geometry and behavior, suggest a pattern rather than coincidence.

The Monroe incident carried an extra layer of irony for me. Just days before, I had recorded commentary criticizing the CIA, arguing that an unaccountable government agency posed a greater threat to society than any hypothetical alien landing at the old Lesourdsville Lake amusement park. Then, as if on cue, a highly defined UFO appeared in the sky over Monroe—right above the road, visible to anyone passing through. Was it occult synchronicity, a manifestation triggered by calling it out? Or was it a projection, seeded into the narrative to reinforce assumptions and steer public perception? Either explanation underscores a truth: the skies are not always what they seem, and the mechanisms behind what we witness may be far more psychological and technological than extraterrestrial.

In the case of West Chester, my view remains pragmatic. If you were an engineer testing cloaking or anti-gravity technology, you’d want real-world conditions—dense holiday traffic, a populated corridor, and proximity to a major Air Force base. You’d want to measure public reaction without announcing the test. And judging by the sparse reporting—two witnesses out of thousands—the experiment likely achieved its goal. That ratio is common in paranormal phenomena: many see, few speak. Stigma silences disclosure, and silence is the perfect cloak for those who prefer their work to remain invisible. In a society that should demand transparency, these events remind us how easily concealment thrives in plain sight.

—

Footnotes

1. NUFORC – West Chester Report #194307, details on date, shape, duration, and description (posted Nov. 24, 2025).

2. NUFORC – Ohio Index, showing the West Chester entry and contemporaneous Ohio reports on 11/22/2025. 1

3. NUFORC Databank (About/Indexes/Disclaimers) explains grading, common misidentifications, and posting practice. 2

4. YouTube: “UFO over West Chester, Ohio” (local upload summarizing the event and public interest). 3

5. HISTORY.com – “Does Hangar 18, Legendary Alien Warehouse, Exist?”, Wright‑Patterson lore, Roswell connections. 4

6. U.S. Air Force Fact Sheet – Project Blue Book (conclusions; 12,618 reports, 701 unidentified). 5

7. Scientific American – “The U.S. Drone Panic Mirrors UFO Overreactions,” context on drone/UAP misreads near restricted airspace. 6

8. Florida Today Op‑Ed – UAP video debate (sphere struck by Hellfire; interpretations vary). 7

9. NUFORC – “File a Report” guidance, checklist to avoid common misidentifications (Starlink, planets, lens artifacts). 8

10. NUFORC Homepage (Recent Highlights), public transparency, and investigation notes. 9

11. Freethink – “The search for anti-gravity propulsion,” survey of claims and physics constraints. 10

12. Flying Penguin analysis – “Gravitic Drones…”, skepticism about gravity‑control claims and the absence of supporting infrastructure. 11

13. USA Today – “UFO hearing video shows Hellfire missile fired at mysterious orb,” congressional UAP context. 12

14. Enigma Labs – Ohio sightings dashboard, trends, and regional density (Cincinnati/Dayton corridor). 13

15. WCPO – “Strange lights captured… appear to be a hoax” (Middletown, June 2023), local precedent and cautionary notes. 14

16. Knewz – “UFO in Ohio? Several Residents Report Seeing Strange Green Lights”, summary of the Middletown event and official reactions. 15

17. West Chester population profiles (CityPopulation/WorldPopulationReview), confirming township scale and density. 1617

18. UFO Index – Ohio (latest reports incl. Middletown references), shows regional cadence of events.

—

Bibliography

• National UFO Reporting Center (NUFORC). “Sighting Report #194307 – West Chester, OH.” https://nuforc.org/sighting/?id=194307; “Reports for State OH.” https://nuforc.org/subndx/?id=lOH; “Databank.” https://nuforc.org/databank/; “File a Report.” https://nuforc.org/report-a-ufo/

• HISTORY.com. “Does Hangar 18, Legendary Alien Warehouse, Exist?” (updated June 30, 2025). https://www.history.com/articles/hangar-18-ufos-aliens-wright-patterson

• U.S. Air Force. “Unidentified Flying Objects and Air Force Project Blue Book – Fact Sheet.” https://www.af.mil/About-Us/Fact-Sheets/Display/Article/104590/unidentified-flying-objects-and-air-force-project-blue-book/

• Scientific American. “The U.S. Drone Panic Mirrors UFO Overreactions.” https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/the-u-s-drone-panic-mirrors-ufo-overreactions/

• USA Today. “UFO hearing video shows Hellfire missile fired at mysterious orb.” https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2025/09/10/ufo-hearing-video-hellfire-missile/86073340007/

• Florida Today. “UAP video: Alien tech, drone test or military cover-up?” https://www.floridatoday.com/story/opinion/2025/09/14/uap-video-alien-tech-drone-test-or-military-cover-up/86076327007/

• Freethink. “The search for anti-gravity propulsion.” https://www.freethink.com/space/anti-gravity-propulsion

• FlyingPenguin. “Gravitic Drones From China: Classic Counterintelligence Pattern…” https://www.flyingpenguin.com/?p=64204

• WCPO‑TV. “Strange lights… appear to be a hoax” (Middletown, June 2023). https://www.wcpo.com/news/local-news/butler-county/middletown/ufo-sighting-in-middletown-strange-lights-captured-on-video-late-wednesday-night

• Knewz. “UFO in Ohio? Several Residents Report Seeing Strange Green Lights in the Night Sky.” https://knewz.com/ohio-residents-report-seeing-ufo-night-sky/

• CityPopulation.de / WorldPopulationReview. West Chester Township profiles. https://www.citypopulation.de/en/usa/ohio/admin/butler/3901783150__west_chester/ ; https://worldpopulationreview.com/us-cities/ohio/west-chester-township

• UFO Index. “Ohio UFO Reports.” https://www.ufoindex.com/ohio

• YouTube. “UFO over West Chester, Ohio.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PG0Nv8NVfzI

Rich Hoffman

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

I Have Written Over 8.1 Million Words Dedicated to Justice: Jack Smith needs more than jail

In the early 2010s, I found myself at a crossroads. I had spent years immersed in creative pursuits — writing screenplays, attending film festivals, and building a career in the entertainment industry. But something wasn’t sitting right. The characters I wrote about were fighting for justice, standing up against corruption, and defending the values of liberty and freedom. I realized that fiction wasn’t enough. The world needed real people to stand up and fight — not just stories. That realization led me to the Liberty Township Tea Party in Butler County, Ohio, where I began applying my skills to political activism.

I produced short videos on the 10th Amendment and illegal immigration — modest productions with a simple camera, aimed at educating and inspiring local citizens. These weren’t viral hits or high-budget documentaries. They were grassroots efforts aimed at sparking conversation and defending constitutional principles. But even these small acts of civic engagement drew the attention of powerful forces. The IRS, under Lois Lerner’s direction, targeted our Tea Party group, and I was swept into a campaign of intimidation and scrutiny. That moment changed everything. I abandoned my entertainment ambitions and committed myself fully to political writing and activism.  And looming in the background of the Lois Lerner activism was Jack Smith.

Since that turning point, I’ve written over 1200 words a day — every day — for more than 15 years. That’s millions of words, thousands of articles, and countless hours spent documenting, analyzing, and challenging the misuse of government power. My blog, Overmanwarrior’s Wisdom, became a platform for truth-telling, and my voice joined a chorus of others who refused to be silenced. I didn’t just write about politics — I lived it. I used my media connections to amplify the message, appearing on the radio and television, and producing daily videos to keep the conversation alive.  Since 2010, I’ve written more than 6.9 million words from daily writing alone. Additionally, I’ve authored three full-length books, contributing an additional 210,000 words, and published hundreds of periodical articles, totaling nearly 1 million more. Altogether, my body of work exceeds 8.1 million words, a testament to the discipline, passion, and relentless drive that fuel my efforts to challenge government overreach and defend the principles of representative government.  And when you do that much work, that’s why I’m able these days to speak on so many topics differently than anybody else does, anywhere in media, on any network, radio show, or podcast.

The catalyst for this relentless output was the abuse I experienced at the hands of the IRS and the Department of Justice — specifically under the influence of prosecutor Jack Smith. Smith, who later became a central figure in high-profile investigations, had long been part of a system that weaponized law enforcement against political dissent. His role in the IRS scandal, along with his broader pattern of targeting conservative voices, revealed a disturbing trend: the rise of a fourth branch of government, unaccountable to voters and hostile to the representative efforts of self-government.

Jack Smith’s actions weren’t isolated. They were part of a larger ecosystem of government overreach, where agencies like the FBI and DOJ operated with impunity. From spying on senators to leveraging investigations for political gain, these institutions strayed far from their constitutional mandates. The goal wasn’t justice — it was control. Figures like Letitia James in New York and James Clapper in the intelligence community, among others, followed similar paths, using their offices to suppress opposition and manipulate public perception.

This isn’t just about Donald Trump. It’s about every citizen who dares to speak out, organize, or challenge the status quo. Trump’s rise in 2015 and 2016 wasn’t a fluke — it was a response to years of systemic abuse. Americans saw the infection beneath the surface, and Trump pulled the scab off. What followed was a reckoning. The prosecutions, the media attacks, the relentless investigations — all of it was designed to punish dissent and preserve the power of entrenched elites. But it backfired. It awakened a movement that refuses to back down.

I’ve never been one to seek conflict, but I’ve always stood my ground. Whether facing bullies on the playground or bureaucrats in Washington, I don’t tolerate intimidation. Jack Smith and Lois Lerner made the mistake of targeting me — and I’ve spent the last decade making sure their actions don’t go unanswered. I’m not alone. Millions of Americans have joined this fight, demanding accountability, transparency, and a return to constitutional governance.

The pursuit of justice is finally catching up. Smith, James, Clapper — they’re all facing scrutiny, and rightly so. This isn’t about revenge. It’s about restoring trust in our institutions and sending a message that abuse of power will not be tolerated. I’ll continue writing, filming, and speaking out — not because I enjoy conflict, but because I believe in the promise of America. We are a nation of laws, not of men. And when those laws are twisted to serve political ends, it’s our duty to resist.  And in my case, it’s not just to lash back, but to hold the wrongdoers to unforgivable scrutiny and to destroy the lives of the perpetrators because of what they did.  I learned in those days of 2010 that you don’t fight people like this on turf they control, which is the courtrooms, with lawyers in their pocket, and judges they play golf with.  A system they built from the ground up to create terror among an unsuspecting population prone to blind trust.  I turned to writing because many of them are too dumb to have thoughts of their own, and they can’t defend an expanse of thoughtful debate.  At that point, their actions fall apart very quickly once people can scrutinize their efforts in relation to the discussion. 

So my method has been very effective.  Millions and millions of words are doing that work on my behalf all hours of the day, day in and day out, to all who care to contemplate questioning the system that people like Jack Smith have controlled for far too long.  And I am very proud of that role, with each of these prosecutions that have been released now that we are into the first year of Trump’s presidency.  I would have loved a more glorious and dramatic revenge for all that I have seen and experienced.  However, in whatever form justice may come, I have always been deeply committed to it.  I never forget or forgive anything, and I did all this essentially over just those two videos that the IRS scrutinized me over.  I have many other revenge plots working in the background over various issues that I will never get over, and I will see justice for all of them in due time.  Many tell me that I should forgive people, that all this hate hurts me.  I tell them that those thoughts are absolutely untrue.  I love getting revenge on bad people, and I think it is very healthy to express it, rather than suppressing it under some social expectation of forgiveness.  It is much better to express your hate than to be consumed by it.  And all these actions I have taken over the years toward the justice of people like Jack Smith are just the beginning.  But you can bet that I am happy to see people like him starting to fall from grace.  He deserves it.  And there are many more to come; either Trump will do it legally, or we’ll find some other means.  They should feel lucky that a system of law and order protects them, because what would otherwise be a lot harder on them, and much more spectacular, would be a ruthless act of revenge.  But regardless, justice is coming for them all, because it has to.

Rich Hoffman

We’re rebuilding the school board. Good management is the best way to defeat tax increases.

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707

Juneteenth is a Dumb Holiday for Lazy People: It was Republicans who freed the slaves

We have too many holidays as it is; we certainly don’t need one more where everyone stays home and looks out the window.  People need to work more, and not emulate the lazy Europeans and their excessive time off lifestyle.  I was pretty surprised to learn this year, in 2025, when June 19th arrived, that it was a federal holiday and all the banks, along with many large companies, were closed.  It was a Thursday, essentially in the middle of the workweek, and everyone was gone from the office, which I found shocking.  The Juneteenth Holiday was in effect from when it was passed in 2021, and for some reason, it became a thing this year.  Last year or the year before, I didn’t notice it much.  But this year, it seemed oddly out of place, being placed alongside other holidays like Memorial Day, Labor Day, and the Fourth of July.  Juneteenth is a holiday created by lazy people using racism as a mask to hide their lack of engagement.  Democrats made it to hide the sin of their slave holding past in an attempt to appease their current desires to work less and follow the Marxist trend to have as many days off a year, and to follow Europe, where all the countries have some level of socialism to them, into a stagnant economy with short work weeks and very little productivity.  I hear it all the time from people I deal with in Europe, they think Americans work too much and are constantly stressed out.  They think it’s smart to take more days off, have more extended vacations, and stay home from work every time they have a runny nose.  I disagree vehemently.  I think people should work much more than they do now and for far more extended hours.  We can’t have the most GDP and strongest economy in the world unless you are willing to outwork everyone else.

It was stunningly irresponsible for many of the large companies I was aware of, including Juneteenth as a day off for their employees.  You have to be kidding.  It’s part of that whole DEI push that has been so destructive.  As if by recognizing the holiday created by the Biden Administration to appease voters they think would vote for them because of the color of their skin, to honor the end of slavery, those companies would prove that they weren’t racists.  By bending the knee to radical Marxism and communism that have been exported into communities of color to take advantage of any past hard feelings, the belief is that unearned guilt can be relieved.  But that is the fool’s perspective who doesn’t know their history.  It was Republicans who freed the slaves.  It was Democrats who kept them, so those of us who were never supportive of slavery, and I am certainly one of them, were never guilty of slavery.  Instead of a name like “Juneteenth,” it should be Frederick Douglass Day or General Grant Day.  Or “thank you, Republican Party Day.”  “Not Juneteenth.”  The name itself is embarrassing, and comes from a Marxist background from radicals within America who hate the country and want to bring it down from the inside out.  By recognizing the holiday with a lazy day off, we give Democrats cover for the sins they committed with slavery and allow them to gain merit in appeasing minority communities hoping to win votes by giving them a day off in remembrance of what they want to establish as the unwarranted start to a country built on slavery. 

Marxist groups are behind all this as their ideology from Karl Marx established the attack of communism throughout the world to attempt to stir up the disenfranchised to rise against their current governments.  And that is the case in just about every corner of the world.  And in America, the Marxist groups behind the Juneteenth holiday are part of that ridiculous 1619 Project that was popular at the time to rewrite history around the premise that America and its economy should have never been created because it was built on the back of slavery.  When the truth is that, without America coming along, slavery would likely still be practiced commonly in the world.  It was the creation of the American Constitution that paved the way for the world to remove the practice of slaves in all economies, which had been going on everywhere up to that point for many thousands of years.  It was the American North and specifically the Republican Party that emerged to end slavery.  It was highly controversial at the time.  It wasn’t just America practicing slavery. Instead, slavery had been inherited from the English, the French, and the Spanish in the regions they controlled in North America.  And it was the Revolutionary War that created the conditions for America to be born as a nation, and to take those territories away from those other countries that practiced slavery.  Once the federal government could be elected to use a political party to create a mass movement against slavery, it was the Republican Party that led a war against southern Democrats to free the slaves.  We shouldn’t call the ending of slavery Juneteenth Day; it should be in honor of the Republican Party.  And specifically, President Grant, a great war general and president who was too fair to everyone. 

It was The New York Times Magazine that launched this idea in 2019, marking the 400th anniversary of the arrival of enslaved Africans in the English colony of Virginia, and attempting to reframe the creation of America as a country, thereby undercutting its foundation.  The Juneteenth holiday is a way to trick people into buying into this ridiculous nonsense with a day off work to celebrate, then validate their argument.  But it’s just another excuse for people who don’t like to work to create another holiday to justify being unproductive under the guise of a good cause.  The world doesn’t need more time off work.  It needs to work harder.  And people need to know their history.  Republicans freed the slaves, and if not for America, there would still be slaves.  It took a free country for the world to see what free people would be like.  Until that occurred, nobody understood what “freedom” meant.  And it took another century for the Republican Party to come along and challenge a long-term European standard of slave labor to provide work for economies.  During the age of invention, as machines could perform work relieving humans of tasks, the human race could finally have that debate.  So, if we are going to celebrate something, it needs to be that Republicans freed the slaves in the newly created nation of America.  But we already celebrate freedom on the 4th of July, so we don’t need another useless holiday for people to sit around and eat nachos by the pool.  People need to get back to work.  We need to dump this useless Holiday of Juneteenth so that we can get to the banks when we need them.  How dare those idiots think that it was appropriate to shut down all the banks in the middle of a work week?  What a stupid and reckless thing to do.  That tells you a lot about just how woke our banking system is when they take off for Juneteenth.  And that is a whole problem of its own. 

Rich Hoffman

Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707