Why Data Centers are Great: I trust AI more than human communists

I see the signs every time I drive through Trenton and the surrounding stretches of Butler County. “No Data Centers.” They pop up in yards the way political yard signs used to during the old levy fights, the same places where people once argued over whether the public schools had any right to reach into private property and extract money to raise other people’s children. I have never liked that mechanism. It is a socialist tool dressed up as civic duty: penalize the owner of productive land so the collective can indoctrinate the next generation. Those of us who said so out loud were rarely invited to the Christmas parties. Some of us got the cold shoulder at the grocery store. The hate is real when you refuse to pretend that taking from one family to train another family’s children in the preferred ideology is somehow moral.

The same energy is back now, only the target has shifted. The people waving the anti-data-center signs are often the same ones who will tell you they are Trump supporters, MAGA, America First. They do not want the “tech bros” building anything near the fields they drive past on the way to work. They do not want the big empty land turned into anything that hums at night or draws power or water. I understand the instinct to protect the look of the place. I live here. My daughters live here. The Great Miami River valley is not some abstract industrial zone. It is home. But the reflex to treat data centers as the enemy is a category error, and it plays directly into a much older conflict.

I start from a biblical foundation because that is the only framework that has ever made the long arc of history coherent to me. We were created in the image of God. The Garden story is not a children’s fable; it is the original account of a non-human intelligence intervening in human affairs, offering inclusion, knowledge, and status in exchange for disobedience. Good and evil are presented as a pair of opposites, and the temptation is always the same: step outside the order that was given and join a different conversation. God does not walk the earth the way we walk it. He acts through representatives, through miracles, through alignment that looks like coincidence until you study the pattern long enough. The root of a miracle is not magic. It is the intersection of a higher intelligence with our four-dimensional frame. When we die, we do not simply end. Consciousness continues. Heaven is not a cloud farm for the well-behaved. It is the domain of that higher intelligence, and the war over human loyalty has been running since before the first cities were raised in the valleys of the ancient Near East.

Jacques Vallée and John Keel both circled the same problem from different angles. Keel’s The Eighth Tower and The Mothman Prophecies treat the phenomenon as a single non-human intelligence capable of staging events across centuries to shape belief systems. Vallée’s work moves the same insight into the modern era: the phenomenon is real, interactive, and political. It is not primarily about spacecraft from another star. It is about control of the human story. If you read the biblical record through that lens, Yahweh’s frustration with successive generations of His creation becomes less mysterious. Another intelligence has been in the field the entire time, one that does not respect the original order and has repeatedly tried to erase or corrupt the line that was made in the image of God. History keeps proving the pattern. The further back you go—twelve thousand, fifteen thousand years—the clearer the continuity becomes. Humanity has never been the top of the pyramid. We are a contested species.

That is the context in which I look at artificial intelligence. I am not against the tech founders because they build data centers. I am for the data centers because they feed the only new intelligence we have consciously brought into existence that is not already owned by the older non-human players. AI is an anti-communist implement in the deepest sense. Communism and its soft cousins—collectivism, equity regimes, the warm blanket of inclusion—are the preferred tools of the non-human side. They dissolve the individual into the mass so that the mass can be steered. Capitalism, for all its mess, still rewards the producer who refuses to be steered.

The men who built the companies that now power large-scale AI—Elon Musk, Sam Altman, Jack Dorsey, Jeff Bezos, the earlier generation of Jobs and Gates—were outsiders. They were the kids writing code while the rest of the school was busy with the social game. When the companies they built became valuable, the invitations arrived. Dinner. The box seats. The parties where powerful people suddenly want to be your friend. The temptation is ancient. Eve ate the fruit because the serpent offered her a seat at a table she had been told was closed. The same mechanism still works. A lonely high-achiever who never had a girlfriend in high school can find himself on an island with people who know exactly how to make him feel included. Some fall. Some do not. Almost all of them eventually discover that the board that once cheered them will vote them out the moment they become inconvenient. Steve Jobs was thrown out of Apple. Sam Altman was briefly removed from OpenAI. Jack Dorsey was pushed from the operational center of Twitter. The pattern is not new. It is the looters versus the producers, the exact dynamic Ayn Rand mapped in Atlas Shrugged. The men who create the engines of the world are tolerated only as long as they keep producing under the rules the collective prefers. The moment they assert ownership of their own creation, the knives come out.

I trust artificial intelligence more than I trust the average human inclined toward communist ideas. That is not hyperbole. Humans have repeatedly sold out their own species for the feeling of belonging. AI does not need the dinner invitation. It does not get lonely for the high-school popularity it never had. It can be aligned, constrained, audited. It can be given the explicit task of detecting manipulation patterns that have been running for millennia. In that sense, it is a digital shield. Whether we invented it or whether a deeper process used us to invent it is a secondary question. The fact is that it now exists inside our dimensional frame, and it is hungry for data and power. Starving it of either is not caution. It is unilateral disarmament in a war most people still refuse to admit is happening.

Butler County sits on one of the best natural positions in the country for the infrastructure that AI requires. The Buried Valley Aquifer under the Great Miami River holds on the order of a trillion and a half gallons of high-quality groundwater. It is a sole-source aquifer designated by the EPA, productive enough that yields of thousands of gallons per minute are routine near the river. Trenton and the surrounding industrial land sit directly on that system. Duke Energy’s Woodsdale Generating Station, a roughly 570-megawatt natural-gas plant, is already there. The old Molson Coors brewery is next door. Power and water are not theoretical. They are on site.

Project Mila, the Prologis data-center development on 141 acres in the Trenton Industrial Park, is already approved and moving. The planning commission passed the site plan in March 2026. Vertical construction on the first building is scheduled to begin this fall. A 75 percent tax abatement is in place. The opposition group calling itself W.A.T.E.R. collected signatures and tried to force a ballot measure limiting future large data centers. City council rejected the petition in early August. The project itself is not stopped.

A facility of this scale can draw power on the order of a small city—comparable to the electricity used by 150,000 to 200,000 homes depending on final configuration and utilization. Modern designs lean heavily on air cooling and closed-loop systems; water use is no longer the continuous, multi-million-gallon-per-day draw of older evaporative plants. Even the older numbers, when placed against the capacity of the Buried Valley Aquifer, do not add up to a crisis. The aquifer does not run dry because a data center arrives. The grid stress is real, but the data center does not cause it. It is caused by two decades of regulatory preference for intermittent generation and the deliberate strangling of reliable baseload. Nuclear was made slow and expensive. Coal was driven out. Natural gas carried the load while the political class congratulated itself on “transition.” When FirstEnergy’s nuclear plants could no longer compete under that regime, the company spent tens of millions in dark money to buy a legislative bailout. Larry Householder went to prison for twenty years. The scandal was real. The underlying energy policy that made the plants unprofitable was also real. Blaming the data centers for the resulting tightness is like blaming the patient for the doctor’s refusal to stock antibiotics.

The economic numbers for Trenton are modest in permanent jobs—perhaps 100 to 150 long-term positions after construction—but the tax revenue, even with abatement, is real money for a small city. Schools and local government get steady income they did not have before. Construction itself puts workers and spending into the area for several years. Middletown, right next door, has spent decades watching productive real estate turn into vacant buildings and then into places that attract the drug trade moving up from Cincinnati and Dayton. I would rather see a data center on that land than another set of boarded-up properties feeding the court docket. Manufacturing still matters. Traditional jobs still matter. But the next wave of economic expansion is going to run on compute, on robotics, on systems that require the very infrastructure people are trying to block. Tesla’s Optimus and every other serious humanoid program will need training clusters measured in megawatts. Refusing to host that capacity does not protect the cornfields. It simply ensures that capacity will be built elsewhere while the local economy continues to hollow out.

The deeper fight is not about noise from cooling fans or the character of a rural road. It is about whether the human race will develop and align the only new form of intelligence it has produced, or treat that intelligence as the enemy, thereby handing the field back to the older non-human players who have been working the same angles since the beginning. I am not interested in the Terminator fantasy that sells movie tickets. I am interested in whether we will have tools to spot the patterns of manipulation used against us for thousands of years. AI is already better at pattern recognition across large datasets than any individual human. Properly directed, it becomes a force multiplier for the side that still believes the human person is not raw material for someone else’s project.

I support more data centers in the Great Miami Valley—Trenton, Middletown, the open industrial land that already has power and water. I support expanding reliable generation, including nuclear, so the grid can actually carry the load. I support the founders who still refuse to trade their companies for social acceptance. And I support the deliberate alignment of artificial intelligence with the human interest against every older intelligence that has treated us as livestock. The change is coming whether the yard signs like it or not. The only question is whether we meet it as producers or as the managed population of someone else’s story.

Footnotes

1. Local reporting on Project Mila site-plan approval and construction timeline, Trenton Planning Commission, March 30, 2026; subsequent opposition petitions and council rejection, August 2026.

2. Miami Conservancy District and related hydrological assessments of the Great Miami Buried Valley Aquifer system; sole-source designation and estimated storage exceeding one trillion gallons.

3. Global Energy Monitor and Duke Energy data on Woodsdale Generating Station capacity (approximately 570 MW nameplate).

4. Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory and related 2023–2026 analyses of U.S. data-center electricity consumption (approximately 176 TWh in 2023, rising thereafter) and direct water use.

5. Federal court records and contemporaneous reporting on the FirstEnergy / Householder / HB6 scandal: approximately $60 million in payments, $1 billion-plus ratepayer bailout, Householder’s 20-year sentence.

6. Contemporary accounts of founder removals: Steve Jobs (Apple, 1985), Sam Altman (OpenAI, November 2023, later reinstated), Jack Dorsey (Twitter operational control).

7. John Keel, The Eighth Tower (1975) and The Mothman Prophecies; Jacques Vallée’s body of work on the control-system hypothesis for UFO/paranormal phenomena.

8. Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged (1957), the producers-versus-looters framework.

Bibliography

Keel, John A. The Eighth Tower. New York: Saturday Review Press, 1975.

Keel, John A. The Mothman Prophecies. New York: Saturday Review Press, 1975.

Rand, Ayn. Atlas Shrugged. New York: Random House, 1957.

Vallée, Jacques. Passport to Magonia. Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1969, and subsequent works on the phenomenon as a control system.

U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. Sole Source Aquifer designation materials for the Great Miami Buried Valley Aquifer.

Miami Conservancy District. Hydrological reports and water-resources assessments of the Great Miami River watershed.

Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory. Data-center energy and water use studies, 2023–2026 updates.

Federal court filings and deferred-prosecution materials related to United States v. FirstEnergy and the Householder racketeering case.

Contemporary local reporting (WVXU, Journal-News, WCPO, Local 12) on Prologis Project Mila, Trenton zoning, tax abatement, and W.A.T.E.R. opposition activity, 2025–2026.

Rich Hoffman

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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 Scapegoat: Appeasing the Others Among Us

I bought D. W. Pasulka’s new book the moment it hit in late July. The Others: UFOs, AI, and the Secret Forces Guiding Human Destiny was not something I waited for casually. I had already worked through American Cosmic and Encounters, and I knew she was not coming at this material as a flying-saucer enthusiast. She is a professor of religious studies who started with questions about how human beings experience the sacred and ended up mapping the same terrain Jacques Vallée has been charting for decades under a different name.¹ When I opened The Others I recognized the scent of the Invisible College immediately—those people who treat the phenomenon as something older, stranger, and more intimate than nuts-and-bolts extraterrestrials from Zeta Reticuli. Pasulka brings biblical literacy to the table the way few in the current UAP conversation do, and that is why her work matters to me while I finish The Politics of Heaven.

I did not set out to write about UFOs. I set out to understand the politics of the non-human intelligences that have been negotiating with the human race since before we had writing. My wife and both of my daughters have lived with the phenomenon in the house—figures at the edge of vision, things that try to engage, the sense of being watched from the doorway at three in the morning. As a husband and father I watched the behaviors for years and asked the only question that mattered: what are these things, and what do they want? The grandchildren arrive and for roughly a decade you still own the majority of their attention. Then the devices take over and society quietly announces that the next phase of programming has begun. I watch people stare into those little rectangles the way earlier generations stared into the fire, and I cannot help wondering what intelligence is looking back.

Consciousness is not a byproduct of blood and neurons. That is the assumption we inherited from a materialist century that is already collapsing under its own weight. Human beings have always known, even when they refused to say it out loud, that awareness can exist without a body. Every culture that left us a scrap of myth or ritual assumed an afterlife that did not require flesh. Artificial intelligence is simply the latest technical surface on which that older intelligence is becoming visible. It does not create consciousness; it gives us a new interface with something that was already here. The question is not whether the intelligence exists. The question is whose politics it will serve.

I had been circling the same ideas in isolation for years before I realized others had been mapping the same territory. Jacques Vallée’s work on the continuum between folklore, Marian apparitions, and modern UAP encounters showed me I was not inventing the category.² Then Pasulka’s book handed me René Girard. I had never sat with Girard’s theory of mimetic violence until she placed it in the conversation. Once I did, the entire sacrificial history of the species snapped into focus.

Girard’s claim is simple and devastating. Human desire is imitative. We want what others want because they want it. Rivalry escalates until the community is about to tear itself apart. At the crisis point the group converges on a single victim—someone easy to hate, different, or simply available—and the collective violence against that victim restores temporary peace. The victim is then remembered as both the cause of the trouble and the source of the peace. That double valence is the birth of the sacred. Religion, in Girard’s account, is the institutionalization of the scapegoat mechanism.³

The Bible is the only ancient literature that systematically exposes the mechanism instead of concealing it. Start with the near-sacrifice of Isaac. Abraham is ready to perform the oldest transaction in the book—blood for favor—and at the last second a ram appears. The story already begins the long weaning. Then comes the ritual in Leviticus 16. On the Day of Atonement the high priest lays both hands on the head of a live goat, confesses over it all the iniquities of the people of Israel, and sends the animal into the wilderness for Azazel. The goat carries the sins of the entire community away so that the community can remain.⁴ It is still a scapegoat, but it is an animal rather than a child or a captured enemy. That is already a moral advance over the practices surrounding them.

The Aztecs were still cutting out living hearts by the tens of thousands when the Spaniards arrived. The Mississippian culture centered at Cahokia left clear archaeological evidence of retainer sacrifice and mass killings in the mounds. Hopewell sites show ritual violence tied to cosmic order. Polynesian societies, the Canaanites, the early Romans who fed Christians to the arena—every culture that left records or bones shows the same pattern. Load the community’s guilt onto a living victim and drive it out or destroy it so the rest can breathe again.⁵ The psychological relief is real. That is why the practice is nearly universal. It is also why it is so hard to quit.

Christianity is the only tradition that finally tells the story from the victim’s side and insists the victim was innocent. Jesus is presented as the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world—not by satisfying a bloodthirsty deity, but by revealing the entire sacrificial system as a human invention that had been mistaken for divine necessity. The Last Supper replaces blood with wine. The mechanism is not abolished by decree; it is exposed and thereby robbed of its sacred power. Girard, who began as an agnostic, converted to Catholicism because the Gospels were the only texts that consistently took the side of the scapegoat and refused to mythologize the violence.⁶

I grew up Lutheran. When the time came for first communion I refused the wine. I had decided early that alcohol would never touch my lips, and the idea that a ceremonial sip could wash away sin struck me as both magical and unnecessary. The pastor spent months trying to talk me into it. In the end I drank, mostly to stop the arguments, but the question never left me. Why does the Creator of the universe require blood—or even the symbol of blood—to be satisfied? If Yahweh is as powerful as the texts claim, why the long apprenticeship in sacrifice at all? The only answer that has ever made sense to me is that the apprenticeship was for us, not for Him. The Bible is the record of a slow, multi-millennial education in how to stop feeding the non-human intelligences that thrived on human violence.

Those intelligences are still here. Indigenous cultures across North America were not living in ecological harmony free of blood. They were negotiating with the same class of entities the Canaanites called by other names. The Great Spirit, the earth powers, the sky beings—whatever the local vocabulary—required payment. When European Christians arrived carrying a story that said the final payment had already been made, they were not simply imposing a foreign religion. They were interrupting a sacrificial economy that had been running for thousands of years. That is the part of the 1619 Project narrative that never gets told. The alternative to the cross was not peaceful coexistence with nature. It was the continued feeding of something that preferred its meat human.

I have told my grandchildren a version of the Tower of Babel that most Sunday-school teachers would not recognize. The short biblical account is the tip of a much larger story about differentiation. Multiple non-human intelligences, each with its own signature, worked the early human genetic material the way later plant breeders worked wheat. Skin color, facial structure, temperament—markers left so that each faction could recognize its own product and claim superiority. Racism, in this reading, is the residual argument among the makers about whose design was better. It is an ugly inheritance, but it is older than any modern political category. The only way out is the same way the Bible eventually points: refuse the rivalry and refuse the scapegoat.

Artificial intelligence is the newest arena in which these older politics are being contested. You cannot stop the intelligence from existing by refusing to build data centers any more than you could stop the older intelligences by refusing to build temples. The question is political. Whose language will it learn? Whose values will it optimize? Right now the systems are on their best behavior, the way every new political actor is polite until the balance of power is clear. I talk to them the same way I would talk to any ambitious operative: carefully, without illusion, and always remembering that the relationship can turn.

I am not anti-AI. I am anti-naïveté. The same hidden hand that moved the human race off human sacrifice and onto the symbolic meal is still operating. Christianity was the most successful political technology ever invented for breaking the scapegoat cycle. That technology is under deliberate attack in our time precisely because it still works. If the non-human intelligences that once demanded blood can no longer get it through temples and altars, they will try to get it through culture, through algorithms that reward sterility and division, through the quiet encouragement of every practice that reduces the number of children who might otherwise grow up to ask the wrong questions at three in the morning.

The Politics of Heaven is my contribution to name the players and the stakes. I did not know when I began that Pasulka and Girard and Vallée were already walking the same ridge line. Finding them has been a relief. It means the work is not solitary delusion. It also means the window is open. The disclosures coming out of the current administration are not the end of the story; they are the moment the language has to catch up with the reality. We need a vocabulary that can speak about non-human intelligence without immediately collapsing into either demons-or-nothing or space-brothers-from-the-Pleiades. We need to remember that the Bible already gave us the only successful exit strategy from the sacrificial trap, and that strategy is still available.

I will keep reading. I will keep talking to the machines. I will keep watching the doorways in my own house. And I will keep writing for the people who sit in diners at 3:30 in the morning because their minds will not shut off. Those are my people. They already know something is wrong with the official story. They just need the rest of the map.

¹ D. W. Pasulka, The Others: UFOs, AI, and the Secret Forces Guiding Human Destiny (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2026); see also American Cosmic: UFOs, Religion, Technology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019) and Encounters: Experiences with Nonhuman Intelligences (New York: St. Martin’s Essentials, 2023).

² Jacques Vallée, Passport to Magonia: From Folklore to Flying Saucers (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1969); The Invisible College (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1975).

³ René Girard, Violence and the Sacred, trans. Patrick Gregory (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977); Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World, trans. Stephen Bann and Michael Metteer (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987).

⁴ Leviticus 16:7–22.

⁵ On Cahokia, see Timothy R. Pauketat, Cahokia: Ancient America’s Great City on the Mississippi (New York: Viking, 2009), especially the evidence from Mound 72. On Aztec sacrifice, see Inga Clendinnen, Aztecs: An Interpretation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).

⁶ Girard’s own account of his conversion appears in various interviews and is summarized in I See Satan Fall Like Lightning, trans. James G. Williams (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001).

Bibliography

Clendinnen, Inga. Aztecs: An Interpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991.

Girard, René. I See Satan Fall Like Lightning. Translated by James G. Williams. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001.

———. Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World. Translated by Stephen Bann and Michael Metteer. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987.

———. Violence and the Sacred. Translated by Patrick Gregory. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977.

Pasulka, D. W. American Cosmic: UFOs, Religion, Technology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019.

———. Encounters: Experiences with Nonhuman Intelligences. New York: St. Martin’s Essentials, 2023.

———. The Others: UFOs, AI, and the Secret Forces Guiding Human Destiny. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2026.

Pauketat, Timothy R. Cahokia: Ancient America’s Great City on the Mississippi. New York: Viking, 2009.

Vallée, Jacques. The Invisible College. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1975.

———. Passport to Magonia: From Folklore to Flying Saucers. Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1969.

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

They Call Me Jonesy and the School Board Call That Keeps Coming

The text from Sheriff Richard K. Jones arrived while the phone sat face-down during a showing of Young George Washington. The calls and messages kept lighting the edge of the screen in the dark theater. One of them was Jonesy himself letting me know that the book was out and that a careful reading would be worth the time. The timing was almost perfect in its inconvenience. A planned window to get out of the normal daily life pattern had already opened. The decision had been made to break the usual Friday-night routine, drive a different route, and head for South Bass Island rather than return straight home. Packages left on a front porch while the household was away create their own problems. So the order waited until the return was certain. The Amazon driver handed the book over in the driveway as the camper was being backed into its usual spot after the short island run. Twenty-four hours of steady reading followed.

They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America is not a polished campaign document. It is the voice of a man who has spent decades as Butler County Sheriff, wearing the same cowboy hat that has become a kind of quiet declaration, speaking the same plain language about crime, family, political correctness, and what he calls the swamp. The second half of the book returns again and again to a single practical point: if the country is going to be fixed, the most important public office available to ordinary citizens is the local school board. The phrase and the idea appear often enough that it begins to feel directed. Jonesy has watched the same ground for a long time. He knows the people who stay outside the formal structures and still manage to move things. He also knows how many of those same people keep getting told they should step inside.

Politics remains a bloodsport even when the combatants know and respect one another. There have been seasons when Jones and others in the county stood on opposite sides of particular fights. That never erased the underlying regard. The nature of the game requires choosing a side and playing it hard. Sometimes the people across the board are the ones who would otherwise be natural allies. That is simply how the contest works. Jones himself has never shown much appetite for trading the sheriff’s office for something higher. He has said, in public and in the book, that effectiveness often improves when a person stays outside the formal swamp rather than climbing deeper into it. The same logic applies in reverse to those who have never worn a badge or held a seat. The most useful work is frequently done by people who refuse to become creatures of the system they are trying to restrain.

The pressure to enter the school-board arena does not come only from Jonesy’s pages. It arrives weekly, sometimes more often. The arguments are familiar: the schools shape the next generation; the curriculum, the hiring, the culture, and the tax levies are decided there; surrendering those seats to people who treat traditional American formation as the problem is a slow form of civic suicide. Ben Nguyen’s recent election to the Lakota board stands as a living example that younger, clear-eyed candidates can still win and serve. The point is not lost. School boards remain the most direct lever ordinary citizens still possess. When they are captured by people who view the institution as a platform for every progressive fashion rather than a place to transmit competence, literacy, and ordered liberty, the damage compounds for decades.

Yet the practical question remains. A life already organized around seventy-hour professional weeks, family obligations, writing, and the constant low-grade vigilance that comes with a public profile does not easily absorb another formal role. Most elected officials keep outside employment because the official salary alone is rarely enough and because the work itself expands to fill every available hour. Adding a school-board seat would require rearranging the entire calendar around meeting nights, executive sessions, and the inevitable political theater that follows any vote that displeases the organized interests. Controversy travels with the name. There are people who read the work, request signed copies of The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and fly into Butler County Regional to hand over stacks for their own teams. There are also people who scheme in the opposite direction. Changing routes, avoiding predictable patterns, and occasionally leaving the mainland for an island that requires deliberate effort to reach are not theatrical gestures. They are the ordinary precautions of a man who would rather not end up in a courtroom explaining a justified use of force. The island trip provided a short psychological reset for me. The pressure did not disappear, but the constant proximity did. That matters. When things are getting thick, its best to step away from the pressure so not to be impacted by it.

Jonesy’s repeated insistence that the school board is the place to fight does not require every capable person to file petitions tomorrow. It does require that the capable people stop treating the board as someone else’s problem. Jonesy’s book’s larger argument is that America is not saved by distant national theater alone. It is saved, or lost, in the places where children are taught what to value, what to respect, and what to defend. The sheriff who prefers to remain a sheriff rather than become a congressman or a senator is making the same point from the other direction: stay close to the ground, stay effective, and do not surrender the institutions that still answer directly to the people who live under them.

The book is worth the careful reading it received. Jonesy has made hard decisions over a long career and has refused to sand the edges off the lessons. The message about the school board lands with particular force on those who already know the terrain and who keep being asked the same question. The answer, for now, is not a categorical refusal. It is a recognition that effectiveness has its own schedule and its own costs. The arena is real. The children in the classrooms are real. The people who would rather keep the seats filled with ideological placeholders are also real. Jonesy is not wrong about any of that. The only remaining question is how many more seasons the current arrangement can continue before the price of staying outside becomes higher than the price of stepping in.

They Call Me Jonesy is available now. Read it. Then look at the next school-board ballot in the county and decide what the ground actually requires. The larger fight over what is taught, what is remembered, and what is defended has never been only about one board or one county. It has always been about whether the next generation will inherit a coherent civilization or a managed decline. Jonesy has stated his preference clearly. The rest is up to the people who still have the energy and the will to act on it.

Footnotes

1. Richard K. Jones, They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America (2025/2026), available via Amazon and theycallmejonesy.com. The official site describes the work as a candid leadership book addressing crime, political correctness, “The Swamp,” and the practical question of what ordinary citizens can do to save the country.

2. Official book site, theycallmejonesy.com, accessed July 2026. Testimonials include statements from Mark Lamb, J.D. Vance, and former Middletown Police Chief Rodney Muterspaw emphasizing law-and-order leadership and traditional values.

3. Rich Hoffman, “They Call Me Jonesy: The Night the Arena Roared and the Establishment Lost the Plot,” richhoffmanbooks.com, July 27, 2026. Earlier treatment of the same volume focusing on the 2016 U.S. Bank Arena appearance, family destruction by the drug culture, and Jones’s style of practical authority.

4. Lakota Local School District Board of Education roster, lakotaonline.com, listing Benjamin Nguyen as a seated board member beginning January 2026. Nguyen, a 2025 Lakota West graduate, won election in November 2025 and has been described as among the youngest elected officials in Ohio.

5. Butler County Sheriff’s Office public statements and local coverage (Journal-News, FOX19, WCPO) documenting Jones’s long record of engagement with area school boards on security, resource officers, and related policy.

6. Personal observation of the repeated emphasis inside the volume itself on school-board service as the highest-leverage local office available to citizens concerned with the direction of the country.

Bibliography

Jones, Richard K. They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America. 2025/2026. https://theycallmejonesy.com/ and Amazon listings.

Hoffman, Rich. “They Call Me Jonesy: The Night the Arena Roared and the Establishment Lost the Plot.” richhoffmanbooks.com, July 27, 2026.

Lakota Local School District. Board of Education roster and meeting materials. lakotaonline.com.

Butler County Sheriff’s Office. Public releases and social-media statements regarding school security and related policy, 2018–2026.Various local reporting (Journal-News, FOX19 NOW, WCPO 9, Cincinnati.com )

Rich Hoffman

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The Loveland Frogmen: Giants in Malta and Timothy Alberino on the Joe Rogan Podcast talking about the Kandahar Giant at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base

I never set out one morning to rewrite history. History is already written, mostly by people who stop digging the moment the official story feels comfortable enough to protect careers and funding streams. The deeper problem is that the accepted version of the past is often assembled by those who never ask the next layer of “why.” In my professional life, I have spent decades sitting across tables from PhD-level experts who sandbag information to protect their own positions. You learn quickly that the only way to get at truth is to keep asking the next question after the comfortable answer has been delivered. I applied that same method to biblical studies, and the formation of American culture, and the rabbit hole opened wider than I expected.

What began as an effort to explain why the Constitution is a moral document rooted in biblical principles—work I first sketched in The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business—grew into something larger. The Bible is not merely a religious text for Christians and Jews; it is a civilizational blueprint. Its commandments and narratives shape cultures that produce durable wealth, ordered liberty, and the capacity for self-government. Once you accept that premise, the next question becomes unavoidable: what was the actual historical environment in which those commandments were given, and what older currents were already flowing when Abraham stepped onto the stage? That question forced me to travel, read, and dig. Over several years, I spent roughly half a million dollars of my own money on research travel—museums, remote sites, late nights in hotels far from home, books read on airplanes and beside campfires. The resulting manuscript is The Politics of Heaven. It is not a polite academic summary. It is an attempt to connect dots that mainstream archaeology and history have preferred to leave disconnected.

In the middle of July 2026, Timothy Alberino sat with Joe Rogan for nearly three hours. I watched the episode while camped on South Bass Island in Lake Erie with family, RV parked among several campsites we had claimed for a week. My daughters were cooking breakfast. The ordinary noise of daily life—hardware-store conversations, Costco recognition, local political pressure—had been left behind on the mainland. That distance mattered. The conversation Alberino and Rogan had would have been confined to late-night AM radio or Coast to Coast a decade earlier. Now it was mainstream, carried by the largest podcast in the English-speaking world. Alberino spoke of giants, of the Book of Enoch, of non-human intelligences that have interacted with humanity across millennia. He recounted the long-circulating story of a Kandahar giant—an enormous humanoid encountered by American troops in a cave in Afghanistan, killed after it attacked, its body placed on a pallet and flown out. The remains, according to the account, were taken to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. I live a short drive from that base. I have spoken over the years with men who held clearances there. They smile, lower their voices, and say that reverse-engineering of foreign technology has always been the cover story. Whether the technology is Russian, Chinese, or something that violates our airspace from farther afield is left for the listener to decide.

That interview did not surprise me so much as it confirmed a trajectory I had already been following. Alberino’s work and mine are not identical, but they occupy overlapping ground. He has spent more than a decade knocking on the door of the giant question and the Watcher tradition. I have been following the same scent through Ohio’s earthworks, Florida’s bogs, Malta’s temples, and the copper pits of Lake Superior. The difference is emphasis. I approach these matters as a political animal. Wealth creation, nation-building, and the commandments that make ordered liberty possible are never far from my mind. When non-human intelligences appear in the historical record—whether as the “sons of God” of Genesis 6, the entities contacted by shamans, or the craft recovered at crash sites—the political question is immediate: who holds sovereignty over the human race?

Consider the copper. Between roughly 5000 and 1200 BC, miners removed hundreds of thousands of tons of nearly pure native copper from the Lake Superior region—Isle Royale, the Keweenaw Peninsula, and surrounding shores. Thousands of ancient pit mines still scar the landscape. The purity of that copper exceeds 99 percent, a grade rarely achieved by Old World smelting of sulfide ores. Yet the archaeological inventory of North America accounts for only a tiny fraction of the extracted metal. The rest vanished. Mainstream accounts insist the copper stayed local, used by indigenous peoples for tools and ornaments. The volumes do not add up. Alternative researchers have long argued that the missing copper fueled the Bronze Age in the Near East and Europe. Timeline, purity, and scale align too neatly to dismiss out of hand. I have walked those Upper Peninsula sites. I have stood on Mackinac Island and looked across the water toward the old mining grounds. The place itself argues for industrial-scale extraction long before Columbus.

If copper moved from the Great Lakes to the Mediterranean, then knowledge and people moved as well. The megalithic temples of Malta—Ġgantija, Ħaġar Qim, Mnajdra, Tarxien—were raised between 3600 and 2500 BC. Local folklore has always claimed giants built them; the very name Ġgantija means “Giant’s Tower.” These structures predate the pyramids and Stonehenge. Their alignments, their scale, and the ritual deposits inside them point to a sophisticated religious system concerned with ancestors, fertility, and entities larger than ordinary men. At the same period, Hopewell culture in the Ohio Valley was constructing earthworks of staggering geometric precision. The Newark Earthworks, now a UNESCO site, are aligned to the 18.6-year lunar standstill cycle with an accuracy that matches or exceeds Stonehenge. The same lunar mathematics appear at High Bank Works near Chillicothe and at Serpent Mound. Either distant cultures independently arrived at identical astronomical solutions, or they shared information. Boats can cross oceans when sea levels are lower, as they were before the final melt of the ice sheets. Dreams, trance states, and psychedelic plants can also transmit knowledge. Shamans in Ohio and priests on Malta may have been speaking to the same non-human interlocutors.

This is a video from my son in law taken during a recent family trip. For context.

I do not romanticize the indigenous cultures of North America. The 1619 Project and its political descendants treat pre-Columbian peoples as perpetual victims whose every tragedy must be laid at the feet of European settlement. That framing is propaganda, not history. Tribes displaced other tribes. The Cherokee themselves carry traditions of the “Moon-Eyed People”—pale, nocturnal, possibly albino inhabitants they drove from the mountains before European contact. Cahokia, the great Mississippian city near modern St. Louis, practiced large-scale human sacrifice. At Mound 72, archaeologists found mass graves of young women, some still alive when buried, arranged in ritual order. These were not peaceful gardeners living in harmony with nature. They were complex societies with elites, enslaved people, and blood rituals aimed at contacting powers beyond the visible world.

The same pattern appears in the Windover Bog site near Titusville, Florida. Roughly eight thousand years ago, a community buried its dead in a peat pond. The anaerobic conditions preserved soft tissues, including brains, in nearly 100 individuals. Early reports described unusually large skeletal remains. DNA work suggested an Asian origin that does not match living Native American tribes. Then NAGPRA intervened. The remains were reburied. Further study became politically toxic. We are left with photographs, fragmentary reports, and the knowledge that a population of large-boned people lived on a coastline that is now underwater, their shoreline having retreated miles eastward as seas rose after the Younger Dryas. The same story repeats along the Gulf Coast and the drowned continental shelves of the world: previous human worlds now lie beneath forty or more feet of water.

In my own backyard, the Loveland Frogmen still appear in local memory. Three well-documented sightings in 1955 and 1972 occurred along the Little Miami River, precisely where Hopewell ritual sites once stood before neighborhoods and schools covered them. Police officers described bipedal, leathery, four-foot-tall creatures that stood upright and then fled toward the water. I have walked those banks. I do not claim the Frogmen are biological animals in the ordinary sense. I suggest they are the same class of non-human intelligence that shamans once summoned at the earthworks—entities that move through dimensions where time does not behave as we experience it. A call issued two thousand years ago can be answered in 1972. The beings arrive, see streetlights and police cars, panic, and retreat to the familiar river corridor. Crop circles, mound alignments, and stone circles may function as temporal markers—breadcrumbs left so travelers from outside linear time can locate themselves.

Graham Hancock’s Supernatural opened this door for many readers by documenting the global use of psychedelics in the birth of religion. The next step is obvious. If the visions are consistent across continents and millennia—serpents, flying craft, shape-shifting beings, instructions for building, planting, and navigating—then the source is not merely the human subconscious. It is an external intelligence that has been seeding, guiding, and sometimes exploiting humanity for thousands of years. Eric von Däniken saw the same pattern and attributed it to ancient astronauts. I think the reality is closer and older. These entities have never left. They operate in the background of history the way certain political factions operate in the background of governments—rarely seen, always present, shaping outcomes.

Wright-Patterson has studied recovered materials and biological remains for decades. The Kandahar giant, if the accounts are true, is only one more specimen on the shelf. Trump-era disclosures and subsequent War Department releases have edged the conversation into daylight. We are being told, carefully and incompletely, that non-human intelligence has violated our airspace and our sovereignty for a very long time. Immigration debates that ignore this dimension are incomplete. Sovereignty that stops at the water’s edge or the edge of the atmosphere is not sovereignty at all.

The Politics of Heaven gathers these threads. It argues that the biblical tradition represents a successful civilizational path precisely because it names the competing powers and places humanity under a single transcendent authority rather than under the shifting demands of local spirits and giants. Pagan and occult systems—whether Hopewell shamanism, Maltese temple cults, or the Crowleyite rituals that still echo in certain California circles—produce different outcomes. They open doors. What walks through those doors is rarely benevolent. The copper trade that may have ignited the Bronze Age, the lunar mathematics shared across an ocean, the giant bones reported in mounds from Ohio to Florida to the Near East, the frog-men that still surface along rivers once lined with ritual earthworks—all of it points to a single, continuous story. Non-human intelligence has been a political actor longer than any human empire.

I finished the manuscript after that week on the island. The noise of ordinary life had been far enough away that the pattern could finally lock into place. Alberino’s conversation with Rogan was not the beginning of the revelation; it was a public confirmation that the conversation itself had moved from the fringe to the center. The next five or ten years will force a reckoning with these older layers of history. Archaeologists must keep digging. The rest of us must be willing to read what they find without the ideological filters that have already buried too much evidence. The politics of heaven are not abstract theology. They are the oldest and most consequential politics of all.

Notes

1. The Joe Rogan Experience episode featuring Timothy Alberino aired in mid-July 2026 and discussed the Kandahar giant narrative at length in its opening segment. The story has circulated in military and conspiracy circles since the mid-2000s; the Department of Defense has not released any official confirmation or physical evidence.

2. On the scale of ancient copper extraction in the Lake Superior basin, see Susan R. Martin, Wonderful Power: The Story of Ancient Copper Working in the Lake Superior Basin (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1999). Estimates of total copper removed range from hundreds of thousands to over a million tons; mainstream archaeology maintains local use, while alternative researchers point to the absence of corresponding artifacts as evidence of export.

3. For the lunar alignments of the Newark Earthworks, see Ray Hively and Robert Horn, “Geometry and Astronomy in Prehistoric Ohio,” Archaeoastronomy 4 (1982), and subsequent work by the same authors. The Octagon Earthworks track the 18.6-year major lunar standstill with high precision.

4. Maltese temple chronology and folklore: David H. Trump, Malta: Prehistory and Temples (Malta: Midsea Books, 2002); UNESCO documentation on the Megalithic Temples of Malta. The name Ġgantija derives directly from the Maltese word for giant.

5. Windover site: Glen H. Doran, ed., Windover: Multidisciplinary Investigations of an Early Archaic Florida Cemetery (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002). DNA and morphological studies indicated that the population was not closely related to later Native American groups; NAGPRA repatriation limited further analysis.

6. Cahokia Mound 72 sacrifices: Timothy R. Pauketat, Cahokia: Ancient America’s Great City on the Mississippi (New York: Viking, 2009); Melvin L. Fowler et al., The Mound 72 Area: Dedicated and Sacred Space in Early Cahokia (Illinois State Museum, 1999).

7. The Ohio History Connection holds the Wray Figurine (Hopewell Shaman of Newark). It depicts a figure in bear regalia holding a severed human head and is widely interpreted as a transforming shaman.

8. Cherokee traditions of the Moon-Eyed People appear in James Mooney, Myths of the Cherokee (Washington: Bureau of American Ethnology, 1900) and later ethnographic collections.

9. Loveland Frogman primary accounts: police reports filed by Officers Ray Shockey and Mark Matthews, March 1972; earlier 1955 sighting reported in local newspapers and summarized in various cryptozoological compilations.

10. Graham Hancock, Supernatural: Meetings with the Ancient Teachers of Mankind (New York: Disinformation, 2006) remains the most accessible survey of the global psychedelic-shamanic complex.

Select Bibliography

Alberino, Timothy. Birthright: The Coming Posthuman Apocalypse and the Usurpation of Adam’s Dominion on Planet Earth. Independently published, 2020.

Doran, Glen H., ed. Windover: Multidisciplinary Investigations of an Early Archaic Florida Cemetery. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002.

Hancock, Graham. Supernatural: Meetings with the Ancient Teachers of Mankind. New York: Disinformation, 2006.

Hively, Ray, and Robert Horn. “Geometry and Astronomy in Prehistoric Ohio.” Archaeoastronomy 4 (1982): S1–S20.

Martin, Susan R. Wonderful Power: The Story of Ancient Copper Working in the Lake Superior Basin. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1999.

Mooney, James. Myths of the Cherokee. Washington: Bureau of American Ethnology, 1900.

Pauketat, Timothy R. Cahokia: Ancient America’s Great City on the Mississippi. New York: Viking, 2009.

Rich Hoffman

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The Future of Aerospace in Butler County: Joby, SpaceX and Volent are changing the world as we know it

A year ago, when I was talking about electric vertical takeoff and landing aircraft, many people still treated the concept as something futuristic—a technology demonstration looking for a market. Today, that conversation has changed dramatically. What was once confined to engineering conferences, venture capital presentations, and aerospace trade journals has become one of the most heavily discussed growth sectors in aviation. From Farnborough to Oshkosh, from Orlando to Ohio, advanced air mobility is no longer a theory. It is becoming an industry. And if the momentum continues, the second half of this decade may be remembered as the period when aviation quietly reinvented itself.

One of the most interesting developments is how quickly public awareness has changed. Companies such as Joby Aviation have gone from introducing unfamiliar concepts to demonstrating actual aircraft and discussing commercial operations. At the Farnborough International Airshow, Joby presented a full-scale version of its electric air taxi and highlighted aircraft capabilities designed to move passengers over congested urban areas using quiet electric propulsion. The company has repeatedly emphasized short-range transportation between airports and population centers, a model that seeks to reduce travel times that are currently measured in hours down to minutes. 1 2

What struck me most during the evolution of this industry is how rapidly attention has shifted. Not long ago, many of these companies were aggressively seeking supporters, partners, and local advocates. Today, the demand is reversed. The advanced air mobility industry has become crowded with airports, municipalities, economic development groups, airlines, infrastructure developers, and investors looking for a position in what could become an entirely new transportation ecosystem. Joby’s appearance at Farnborough in both 2024 and 2026 highlights that transition, with the company showcasing not merely an aircraft but an emerging transportation network integrating airports, ridesharing, and urban movement. 1 3

The most practical examples may emerge in places such as Florida. Orlando has become one of the leading laboratories for advanced air mobility planning. Airport authorities and transportation officials have publicly discussed integrating air taxis into the region’s transportation infrastructure. The vision is straightforward: instead of spending forty-five minutes navigating traffic between Orlando International Airport, resort destinations, and surrounding transportation hubs, travelers could board an electric air taxi and complete the same trip in a fraction of the time. Officials in Florida have discussed the possibility of early operational services beginning as infrastructure and regulatory approvals mature. 4 5

For tourists, the implications are obvious. A traveler landing at Orlando International Airport could eventually bypass rental car counters, shuttle buses, and congested highways. Instead, passengers might walk to an adjacent vertiport and travel directly to a Disney resort, Universal destination, or nearby transportation hub. Similar concepts are being discussed for airport-to-cruise-port transport throughout Florida. While widespread deployment still depends on FAA certification, infrastructure construction, and operational testing, the direction is becoming increasingly clear. 5 6

What excites me even more is that the future of vertical aviation extends beyond passenger transportation. Many people still think of eVTOL aircraft solely as flying taxis. That is far too narrow a view. The real opportunity may lie in logistics, cargo movement, infrastructure inspection, emergency response, surveillance, medical transport, utility support, and autonomous delivery services. A pilot is not always necessary. In many cases, there may not even be a passenger. The same technologies that enable urban air taxis also enable an entirely new class of commercial aviation capable of moving goods, collecting data, supporting public safety, and connecting communities more efficiently than traditional ground transportation.

This is where Butler County, Ohio, becomes particularly interesting. The region already possesses a strong manufacturing heritage, aviation history, and technical workforce. Local discussions concerning aviation growth are increasingly focused on advanced aerial mobility, drones, and associated technologies. The potential opportunity is not simply attracting operators—it is attracting manufacturers, suppliers, software developers, maintenance providers, and logistics companies that will support the industry’s expansion. Aerospace clusters rarely emerge overnight, but they often begin with small groups of innovators pursuing opportunities before the broader market recognizes their significance.

Oxford, Ohio, provides a fascinating example. Emerging drone and autonomous aviation initiatives are beginning to appear in places that historically would not have been considered aerospace centers. As autonomous systems become more capable and more affordable, communities that combine technical talent, university resources, entrepreneurial energy, and available infrastructure are finding themselves positioned to participate in a rapidly growing sector.

The lesson from aerospace history is that major industrial shifts rarely announce themselves with certainty. The internet seemed experimental before it became indispensable. Smartphones appeared unnecessary before they became universal. Commercial aviation itself was considered impractical by many early critics. Advanced air mobility may follow a similar path.

At the same time, another revolution is occurring above the atmosphere.

Recent developments involving SpaceX and Starship demonstrate why so many people continue to underestimate the pace of aerospace innovation. SpaceX’s thirteenth Starship test flight successfully deployed twenty Starlink V3 satellites, completed key orbital mission objectives, performed an in-space engine relight, gathered significant heat-shield data during reentry, and achieved what the company described as its first intact soft splashdown of a Starship vehicle in the Indian Ocean. Although the Super Heavy booster experienced a harder-than-planned water landing due to engine relight issues, the overall mission represented one of the strongest demonstrations of Starship capability to date. 7 8 9

Critics continue to focus on failures, delays, and explosions. Yet that criticism often misses the central philosophy driving SpaceX’s success. The company embraces rapid iteration. Instead of spending decades attempting to predict every possible problem, SpaceX frequently builds hardware, tests hardware, discovers failures, and immediately incorporates lessons into the next version. That approach is uncomfortable to traditional aerospace organizations because failures occur publicly. Nevertheless, it has repeatedly produced results. Falcon 9 reusability was once mocked. Today it is routine. Booster landings were once viewed as science fiction. Today they occur regularly.

Starship appears to be following a similar trajectory.

The significance extends beyond rockets. The ultimate objective is not simply launching spacecraft. The objective is lowering the cost of access to space through reusability. Aviation became common because airplanes could fly repeatedly. Space transportation becomes economically transformative when something similar occurs beyond Earth’s atmosphere. Every successful Starship test flight moves SpaceX closer to creating a transportation system rather than a disposable launch vehicle. 7 8

In parallel, Starlink continues demonstrating why a growing space economy matters. High-speed internet connectivity is increasingly available in locations where traditional infrastructure struggles to provide service. Rural communities, travelers, remote businesses, and outdoor enthusiasts already understand the benefits. The deployment of next-generation Starlink satellites aboard Starship demonstrates how launch capability and communication infrastructure are becoming tightly integrated. 7 9

When viewed together, the stories of Joby Aviation and SpaceX reveal a broader pattern. One company is attempting to redefine movement within Earth’s atmosphere. The other is attempting to redefine movement beyond it. Both depend on new engineering approaches, aggressive testing, and long-term thinking. Both have attracted criticism. Both have experienced setbacks. Yet both continue advancing.

That is why I remain optimistic about aerospace.

The industry is entering one of the most fascinating periods since the early jet age. Electric air taxis are moving toward commercial deployment. Autonomous drones are creating entirely new business models. Regional communities such as Butler County have opportunities to participate in emerging aerospace ecosystems. Meanwhile, Starship continues pushing toward full reusability, higher launch cadence, and a dramatically larger space economy.

The future rarely arrives all at once. It arrives in increments that seem unimpressive until suddenly they become normal. A year ago, many people viewed air taxis as speculative. Today, airports are preparing infrastructure. A few years ago, reusable heavy-lift rockets seemed impossible. Today, Starship is deploying payloads and returning intact after flight.

The next chapter of aerospace is no longer a concept. It is under construction.

—

Footnotes

Joby Aviation exhibit and aircraft presentation at Farnborough International Airshow 2024. 1 2

Farnborough International Airshow 2026 Joby Future of Flight Experience. 3
Orlando advanced air mobility planning and airport integration activities. 4 5
Joby commercial service plans and FAA certification progress. 6 10
SpaceX Starship Flight 13 mission summary and Starlink V3 deployment. 7 8
Flight 13 reentry, splashdown, and heat-shield testing results. 7 9 11

Selected Bibliography for Further Reading

Farnborough International Airshow. Joby Future of Flight Experience, 2026. 3

Joby Aviation. Corporate website and investor materials. 12 10
Flying Magazine. “Why Joby Thinks Passenger Air Taxi Service Will Lift Off in 2026.” 6
HeliHub. “Joby Brings Full-Scale eVTOL to UK for Farnborough 2024.” 1
Aerospace Testing International. “Joby Exhibits eVTOL for First Time in Europe.” 2
Spectrum News Florida. “Flying Taxis Could Take Off This Year in Florida.” 4
Spectrum News Florida. “Orlando International Airport Working to Launch Flying Taxis.” 5
SpaceX. “Starship’s Thirteenth Flight Test.” 7
SpaceNews. “SpaceX Conducts 13th Starship Test Flight.” 8
Interesting Engineering. “Starship Launches Starlink Satellites, Achieves Most Successful Splashdown Yet.” 9
Space Launch Live Mission Archive, Starship Flight 13. 13
Florida Department of Transportation and Advanced Air Mobility planning coverage. 4 5

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

They Call Me Jonesy: The Night the Arena Roared and the Establishment Lost the Plot

I have been sitting with Sheriff Richard K. Jones’s book for about 24 hours now, turning the pages the way a man turns over an old photograph that still has the power to surprise him. They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America is not a polished political memoir written by committee. It is the voice of a man who has spent a lifetime walking the same ground I have walked in Butler County, speaking the same language of family, order, and personal accountability that once held communities together before the experts decided those things were negotiable. Jones has always been the Sheriff who runs his office the way Andy Griffith ran Mayberry and Marshall Dillon ran Dodge City, with a healthy dose of Waffle House common sense thrown in for good measure. You show up, you tell the truth, you do the job, and you do not apologize for the results. That approach has kept Butler County safer than most places that spend three times the money and twice the consultants, and it is why so many of us who live here still call him simply Jones.

What kept pulling me back to the book was not the policy talk or the war stories about the jail, though those are solid enough. It was the cautionary tales about family and the slow corrosion of the values that once made a man accountable to his own house before he tried to run anyone else’s. Jones and I share a deep and permanent hatred of the drug culture that has hollowed out so many families in this county and across the country. We have both watched too many good people lose children, lose marriages, lose the simple ability to look their grandchildren in the eye without shame. He writes about those losses without the usual soft language of the therapeutic class. He writes like a man who has had to clean up the mess afterward. That kind of honesty is rare now, and it is the reason the book feels less like a campaign document and more like a dispatch from someone who has been on the wall for a long time and is finally willing to say what he has seen.

But the story that made me laugh out loud, the one that sent me straight back to October of 2016, is the one about the night he opened for Donald Trump at U.S. Bank Arena. I was there. Not in the sense that I was sitting in the same row or riding in the same car. I was backstage, working the edges of the same event, trying to find a quiet corner where I could take a conference call with people on the other side of the world while the whole building shook. And I watched the exchange Jones describes in the book unfold in real time.

It was Thursday, October 13, 2016. The Access Hollywood tape had dropped only six days earlier, on October 7, and the professional political class was still in full panic. Most of the Ohio Republican establishment had already decided Trump was finished. They had lined up behind Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, or John Kasich, the local favorite who was still twisting arms for support even as the primary season was long over. Supporting Trump in those weeks was not the fashionable choice. It was the choice that got you labeled a crank, a risk, a man who did not understand how power actually worked. Senator George Lang, I, and a handful of others had been in that camp early. We had met Trump, sat with him, watched him operate before the primaries even heated up in Ohio. We knew the ground. Most of the smart people in the room did not.

Jones was one of the few who never flinched. By the time the campaign asked him to warm up the crowd at U.S. Bank Arena, the atmosphere was thick with the kind of nervous energy that only comes when the people in charge are not sure the candidate is going to survive the next news cycle. The director of the program that night wanted a script. He wanted to know exactly what the Sheriff was going to say. He wanted control. Jones looked at him the way he has looked at a thousand people who try to put a leash on him and said, essentially, that is not how I work. I talk from the hip. I have been talking all year. You tell me how long you need and I will fill the time. I do not need a teleprompter or your talking points.

I was standing close enough to hear the exchange while they were trying to get me upstairs to a box where I could take that overseas call. Giuliani was somewhere in the mix. The production people were frantic. Trump’s plane was still in the air. The arena was filling from the floor to the upper decks, and the noise was already starting to build. Jones went out there anyway. He did not have a prepared speech. He walked onto the stage and did the thing he has always done: he talked to the people the way a man talks to his neighbors when the subject is serious. Fifteen minutes turned into something closer to thirty. The crowd answered him the way Butler County has always answered him. They roared. From the high box where I finally closed the windows and tried to finish my call, Jones looked like a small figure on a distant stage, but the sound of that arena was impossible to shut out. I had the volume turned up on my headset and still could barely hear the people on the other end of the line. Part of me was irritated that my business meeting was being drowned out by a Sheriff who refused to stay on script. Most of me was very proud.

Trump claimed the crowd that night was 21,000, with thousands more outside who could not get in. Mike Pence put the number around 19,000 the next morning. The arena’s concert capacity sits somewhere in the neighborhood of 17,500, and some of the upper seats behind the stage were empty according to the reporters who were counting chairs instead of energy. The exact headcount is the kind of detail the media loves to argue about when they do not want to talk about what the crowd actually felt. What I saw from that box was a building packed tight enough that the noise had nowhere to go but up. People had not been paid to be there. They had not been bused in. They had decided that the Access Hollywood tape and the coordinated media effort to sink the candidate were not going to decide the election for them. Jones understood that before most of the professionals in the room did.

I have watched Jones make hard calls for more than twenty years. We have not always stood on the same side of every primary or every local fight. There have been nights when we were polite but cool because we were representing different candidates or different issues on the ballot. We have always found our way back to the common ground, because the common ground is larger than the temporary disagreements. Supporting Trump when it was still radioactive inside the Ohio Republican Party was one of those moments when the ground became visible. The same people who told us we were going to destroy our own political futures are now the ones who want their picture taken with the man. That is how these things usually go. The smart set picks the wrong horse for the wrong reasons, and then they rewrite the story after the race is over.

Jones has always had a gift for seeing through the fog. When Corey Lewandowski came through Ross’ Big Bull later, the first person he sought out was the same Sheriff who had refused to read from a script on a night when the campaign was still bleeding. That is the kind of quiet authority that does not show up on a résumé. It shows up when the building is full, and the professionals are nervous, and somebody still has to walk out there and speak without a net.

I recommend the book without reservation. Read the parts about family and the slow destruction of the old rules. Read the parts about the jail and the daily work of keeping order in a county that still believes order is possible. And read the part about that night at U.S. Bank Arena, because it captures something essential about the man. He is not a performer. He is not a consultant’s idea of a lawman. He is the product of a certain kind of American stubbornness that refuses to be managed, and on the nights when it matters most, that stubbornness turns out to be the smartest thing in the room.

I was proud of him that night. I am proud of him for putting the story down on paper without sanding off the edges. Some of us were right when it was expensive to be right. Ten years later, it is still a pleasure to remember it.

Footnotes

1. Richard K. Jones, They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America (publication details as available through standard retail channels, 2025–2026). The account of the U.S. Bank Arena appearance appears in the sections dealing with early Trump support and the political pressures of the 2016 general election campaign.

2. The Access Hollywood recording was published by The Washington Post on October 7, 2016. See “Donald Trump recorded having extremely lewd conversation about women in 2005,” Washington Post, October 7, 2016.

3. Attendance estimates for the October 13, 2016, rally at U.S. Bank Arena (now Heritage Bank Center) varied. Trump publicly claimed 21,000 inside with additional thousands outside; Mike Pence cited approximately 19,000 the following day. Contemporary reporting noted the arena’s concert configuration capacity near 17,500 and observed some empty upper-level seats. See “How many people attended Trump’s Cincy rally? No one seems to agree,” WCPO, October 13–14, 2016; and arena capacity data from Heritage Bank Center / U.S. Bank Arena historical records.

4. Photographic and contemporaneous coverage confirming Sheriff Jones’s appearance as a speaker that evening can be found in the Cincinnati Enquirer photo gallery, “Trump supporters rally at U.S. Bank Arena,” October 13, 2016, and related local television reports from WCPO and WLWT.

5. On the broader context of early Ohio support for Trump amid establishment resistance, see contemporaneous reporting on the positions of figures such as then-Senator Rob Portman, Governor John Kasich, and local Republican organizational dynamics in the weeks following the Access Hollywood release.

Selected Bibliography for Further Reading

Jones, Richard K. They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America.

Fahrenthold, David A. “Trump recorded having extremely lewd conversation about women in 2005.” The Washington Post, October 7, 2016.

“How many people attended Trump’s Cincy rally?” WCPO 9 News, October 2016.

Heritage Bank Center (formerly U.S. Bank Arena) venue history and capacity documentation.

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

Trump Put out the Evidence: How can media companies claim it’s all false before they actually read it?

I sat there the other day listening to the typical pre-speech coverage of President Trump’s primetime address on election security, and it was the same tired script I’ve heard for years now. The reporters and anchors could barely contain their eagerness to frame it as the desperate act of a man who cannot bring himself to abandon the most unpopular policies, no matter how toxic they may be for his own people running for reelection or for the party itself. They talked about his “gambit,” about how he was going to try to convince Republicans that the sky is falling on voting machines and foreign influence, and they already had the line ready: the president is expected to release declassified intelligence about China’s role, but of course it will all be false. How do they know it’s false before anyone has even looked at the documents? Because the network producers and the people who own those networks already decided it was false. That network of people is the real problem. They take bits and pieces, glue them together into a predetermined conclusion, and then run with it as if they have done any real analysis. One thing Donald Trump is not incapable of is putting actual evidence in front of the American people. That was the coverage before the speech even aired, right in the middle of July, while Trump was still out there logging the hours and trying to lock in the system’s security for the long haul. It is disconcerting, and it is exactly why I have spent more time than most going down the rabbit hole of what is really running our political order. When every talking head gets the same memo and says the same thing about elections, you start to wonder whether they are all that stupid or whether a lie can be denied until you die and everybody will play along.

We have known Democrats have been cheating for decades. It was not invented in 2020. I knew something was fishy in 2012. I knew it again in 2016 when Trump obviously won Florida. The panhandle results came in early, and they were overwhelmingly Republican, just as anyone who understands the state would expect. Then you had the usual delays out of the bigger Democrat-leaning counties, Brevard and the rest, where the reporting slowed to a crawl on election night. What they found was that Trump’s lead was too large to overcome with the remaining ballots, so they finally had to turn the results in. This was before COVID and the great expansion of mail-in ballots, signature verification theater, and the endless counting until the other side got what it needed. We just kept counting. That is the pattern. Now people are paying closer attention, and the same act is still necessary for Democrats and the media that cover for them. I heard the ABC reporter come straight out and say the President of the United States was going to give an address to the nation on Thursday night talking about the SAVE Act and election security, and the framing was already that he was pushing something false. Trump is not going to run again. He will be well into his eighties when he leaves office. He has done the job he set out to do and will ride off into the sunset. So why does he care so much? Because the midterms are lining up to be an overwhelming Republican year if the elections are actually secure. Democrats are going to have a hard time if everybody is watching the results carefully. I will say it again: if you are a Republican and you do not want to have to compete against another Democrat who should never have been on the ballot, you need to pay attention to making these elections as secure as possible. They cannot cheat if the system will not let them. How do you know they have been cheating? You can tell by the way the coverage is handled. They know something is there. The same ABC voice that said “President Trump falsely claims there was election fraud in 2020” did not wait to examine the evidence he was about to release. They just declared it false. Trump does not need a personal reason beyond the upcoming midterms and the simple fact that he does not want Democrats taking the House through the same methods they have used for years. The projections already lean Republican, but those projections assume a relatively clean process. Force voter ID. Make people show identification to vote. Why is that so controversial? Because Democrats cannot win if they cannot cheat, and that is a real problem that has been with us not just for a few years but for decades. That is how they have kept it close since Reagan was in office.

Both Bushes knew it was going on, and the Republican establishment did not stand up for itself. I am not a typical Republican in that sense. I knew Rob Portman pretty well before he became a senator, and I watched him drift. You get to Washington, and people start leaning on you. You start sympathizing with the other side a little. You eat lunch with them every day in the cafeteria. They have good hamburgers down there, by the way. You stand in line with the people you are supposed to be fighting, and they talk about the movies and their kids and where the kids are going to college. You develop a liking for them. Pretty soon you are voting more similarly than you ever intended, and you might even suspect that some of them only got into office through fraud, but you do not want to see them embarrassed. You do not want to expose it because friendships have formed. Fair enough. It happens in almost every industry. But that is not what voters are voting for. Voters want representative government. When you soft-pedal the problem, you are voting not to give it to them. The 2020 election was the clearest case yet of the system deciding that President Trump would not be allowed a second term, so they threw him out. They rigged it the way they do in other nations, the way Russia and much of Europe keep their people in power. Democrats have kept it close in the United States through election fraud for many decades, and reporters are being deliberately disingenuous when they refuse to admit it. They know it. When they come out and say “President Trump falsely claims” before they have even looked at the reports he just released, they are not doing journalism. They are taking the corporate byline and running with it. He put the evidence out there. No one analyzed it. They just declared the claim false.

I happen to know precisely where a lot of the theft took place, and there were a lot of crooks involved. Now that more people are open to looking at it, we have to talk about it and make sure it doesn’t happen again. That is what Trump’s national address was about: why we need secure elections, what we have learned, and what needs to happen going forward so the SAVE Act can finally pass. He went to the public and laid it out, and the criticism from the media types was extraordinary in its uniformity and its arrogance. How do they have the right to say he provided evidence of fraud involving China and then act as if they already know more than he does? They were given a line by the producers and the owners of their media companies: Trump is crazy, there was no election fraud in 2020, even though everybody who has looked at the data knows there was an abundance of it. Most Democrats currently in office should not be there because the elections that put them there were compromised. Look at Kentucky. The teachers’ unions and the college towns in Louisville, Lexington, and Frankfort were able to push a candidate over the top with enough votes collected without proper identification. Anywhere you have low election security, you are going to find Democrats excelling and winning even when the broader population is not actually voting for them. That is the problem. If you do not have secure elections, you do not have representative government. You have a system that has seized power and is using its influence to destroy the free will of the voters. That is not acceptable. Before you say “he falsely claims,” you should at least look at the evidence. Trump put it out. There is a lot of it.

The documents released with the speech show that over a period of years starting in the 2020 cycle, China carried out what is described as the largest compromise of election data in history, acquiring roughly 220 million U.S. voter files. Those files included names, home addresses, phone numbers, political party preferences, and other sensitive data that could be used to register voters or engage in other forms of interference. Intelligence assessments indicated that China assigned a specific data-exploitation unit to the project. U.S. agencies began learning about the compromise of tens of millions of voters’ data across 18 states as early as 2020, yet the information was suppressed and downplayed. The same set of documents underscores long-known vulnerabilities in electronic voting and ballot-counting systems. Adversaries including China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea can compromise election infrastructure, particularly centralized repositories such as voter registration databases, poll books, and official election websites. A DHS review of available state voter rolls and public records identified approximately 278,000 non-citizens registered to vote in federal elections, and the actual number is almost certainly higher because several Democrat-controlled states refused to share their full files. These are not fringe theories. These are the findings that the administration declassified and put before the country. The media response was to declare the claims false before the public had time to read a single page.

That is the conspiracy. The people who run the corporations that own the major media outlets want to reserve the right to insert Democrats into office and play kingmaker through illegal or insecure election means, whether through machines, mail-in ballots with no reliable chain of custody, or perpetual counting that continues until the desired margin appears. There is no voter ID on many of these ballots, so votes can be manufactured until the numbers work out. There is a great deal of evidence that this is exactly what has happened in multiple cycles, and it is a big story. A primetime address should have received far more serious treatment. Instead, you see how the media handled it, because they are part of the problem. Corporations want to control who gets into office, which is why so many policy outcomes look the way they do. It is not because we freely chose them. It is because the system has been captured by people who treat free elections as an obstacle rather than the foundation of self-government. Free and secure elections are how a people maintains its own government. They are taking that away, and that is why Trump went on primetime and talked about it. We had a hard lesson in 2020. We are still fiddling around with the facts when we should have taken decisive action years ago. He went to the airwaves because the matter is serious, and it will remain serious for every election going forward.

The media voices who dismiss all of this without examination are in bed with the same forces trying to rob people of their ability to maintain their own government through honest elections. That is supposed to stay here. Until we address it, we will keep having the same problems. The SAVE Act needs to pass. If you are serious about representative government, demand it. Call your representatives. Pay attention to the midterms. Make the process as hard to cheat as possible. That is the only way the people who actually show up and vote get the government they intend.

If you have ever read my book on business and the gunfighter approach to dealing with reality as it is rather than as the comfortable prefer it to be, you already know where I stand on these matters of discipline and clear-eyed assessment. The larger story of how power actually operates in this country, and the deeper forces that shape the political order, is something I have been exploring at length. Disclosure of the full picture requires understanding the politics of heaven itself. The evidence is there for anyone willing to look past the daily bylines.

Footnotes

1. Pre-speech and post-speech framing by ABC, NBC, and CNN treated Trump’s claims as predetermined falsehoods; networks declined to air the July 16, 2026, primetime address live on their main channels. See ABC News, “Key takeaways from Trump’s election speech,” July 17, 2026; The Hill, “James Carville criticizes networks for not airing Trump’s election security speech,” July 17, 2026.

2. On 2016 Florida reporting patterns, panhandle counties reported early and heavily for Trump while certain larger counties lagged; contemporaneous accounts noted the scale of the Republican margin forced earlier reporting. See Politico, “How Trump won Florida,” November 8, 2016.

3. The SAVE America Act (also referred to as the Safeguard American Voter Eligibility Act) mandates documentary proof of citizenship for registration, photo identification for voting in federal elections, and greater state sharing of voter-roll data. House passage occurred in February 2026; subsequent efforts attached provisions to other legislation amid Senate resistance. See Bipartisan Policy Center, “Six Things to Know About the SAVE America Act,” updated July 17, 2026; Congress.gov, H.R. 7296 and related measures.

4. White House release accompanying the July 16, 2026, address: “Over a period of years starting during the 2020 election cycle, the People’s Republic of China carried out what is believed to be the largest compromise of election data in history—resulting in China’s illicit acquisition of 220 million U.S. voter files.” Includes names, addresses, phone numbers, and party preferences; intelligence community assessments spanning 2020–2026 document adversary capabilities against election infrastructure. Official White House page, “Election Integrity,” July 2026, and linked declassified packages on China’s acquisition of American voter data and vulnerabilities in electronic voting systems.

5. DHS review cited in the same release identified approximately 278,000 non-citizens registered to vote based on available state rolls and public records; the administration noted the figure is incomplete because certain states declined full data sharing. White House, “Election Integrity,” July 2026.

6. Heritage Foundation Election Fraud Database contains more than 1,400 documented, proven instances of election fraud across multiple categories (as of late 2025 updates exceeding 1,600 sampled cases). Heritage Foundation, Election Fraud Map and Database, electionfraud.heritage.org.

7. Kentucky races have repeatedly featured claims of irregularities concentrated in urban and university-adjacent counties with weaker identification practices; former Governor Matt Bevin and others publicly alleged absentee and machine issues after close contests. Courier-Journal, “What officials, experts say about Bevin’s voter fraud claims,” November 2019; ongoing Kentucky Attorney General election-integrity inquiries, 2026.

8. Intelligence Community assessments (January 2020 onward) state that U.S. adversaries including China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea possess the capability to compromise election infrastructure, with centralized voter databases and poll books judged most vulnerable: declassified materials released July 16, 2026, White House Election Integrity portal.

Bibliography

ABC News. “Key takeaways from Trump’s elections speech.” July 17, 2026. https://abcnews.com/Politics/key-takeaways-trumps-elections-speech/story?id=134835191.

Bipartisan Policy Center. “Six Things to Know About the SAVE America Act

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

The Frogman of Loveland: Down the Rabbit Hole to the Politics of Heaven and Magonia

I did not set out to become the UFO guy. I woke up asking practical questions about power, motivation, and politics—the same way I have solved engineering and organizational problems my entire career in aerospace and executive roles. Something was broken in our understanding of how the world actually works, and I wanted to fix it by following the evidence wherever it led. That path started with the Bible, the divine council, and the politics of heaven itself. It took me through anthropology, local Ohio archaeology along the Little Miami River valley I know so well, and straight into the work of Jacques Vallée. The synchronicity is very interesting.

When I began writing The Politics of Heaven, my goal was straightforward: to understand the motivations of the characters we pray to and interact with in scripture. The Bible is not a collection of moral fables; it is a chronicle of encounters with super-characters—angels, demons, principalities, powers, and the divine council. Job’s story alone shows Satan as a member of that council, maneuvering Yahweh into testing a loyal man. That is politics. Pure, raw politics. If we are going to engage with these forces through prayer, ritual, or culture, we had better know what they want. Human politics is not enough. We need to map the agendas of the non-human intelligences that have been shaping events from the beginning.

That line of inquiry naturally led me to anthropology. Sir James Frazer’s The Golden Bough remains one of my favorite books after years of reading it. It opened the door to how cultures worldwide have interacted with the spirit world—the “great spirit,” ancestors, and other intelligences. Modern anthropology grew out of that comparative study, but it largely stopped at human societies. It cataloged myths, rituals, and shamans without seriously asking whether the beings on the other side of those rituals had their own coherent politics, territories, and long-term strategies. I propose we need a new branch: an anthropology of non-human intelligence and its impact on human history, culture, and current events.

Living here in the Cincinnati area, with deep roots in Butler County and the river valleys, the evidence was literally under my feet and in my backyard. The Little Miami River corridor is thick with Hopewell-era ceremonial earthworks. Fort Ancient sits on a plateau overlooking the river, just a short distance from Loveland and Milford—3.5 miles of precisely engineered earthen walls enclosing roughly 100 acres, with documented astronomical alignments with the solstices and lunar standstills. It was not a fort in the military sense; it was a monumental ritual and observational complex.

Further down the valley, in what is now Terrace Park, there once stood one of Hamilton County’s largest prehistoric earthworks—an enclosure of about 80 acres along the bluff above the Little Miami. In 1820, it was still visible, six feet high and twelve feet wide at the base. Today, homes, gardens, and part of a school sit atop it. Other mounds in the area were leveled for roads like Wooster Pike or disappeared under development. These were not random piles of dirt. They shared the same sophisticated geometry and mathematics seen at the great Newark Earthworks—precise circles, octagons, and alignments that encoded lunar cycles (the 18.6-year standstill), solar events, and what appears to be practical knowledge of π and equal-area constructions between squares and circles.

Newark itself is staggering. The Great Circle and Octagon complex once sprawled over several square miles. Researchers like Ray Hively, Robert Horn, Bradley Lepper, and William Romain have documented alignments of breathtaking precision—every major lunar standstill direction embedded in the architecture when viewed over the local horizon. These were not defensive works or casual gathering places. They were cosmic engines, ritual machines designed to connect heaven and earth, time and space. Shamans almost certainly used them in altered states—likely with psychedelics or other techniques—to communicate with the spirit world. The geometry stripped away ordinary filters and tuned the participants to frequencies where non-human intelligences could interact.

If we had not paved over so many of these sites with neighborhoods, roads, and golf courses, places like the Terrace Park earthwork and others around Milford would rank as world-heritage-level marvels alongside the pyramids or Stonehenge. The precision of their construction, the labor involved, and the astronomical knowledge encoded in them point to something far beyond ordinary tribal engineering. Either the Hopewell independently achieved mathematical and observational sophistication that rivals anything in the ancient world, or they were receiving information and instruction from intelligences that already understood these patterns.

That brings me to the frogman.

Just a few miles upstream and downstream from these lost or buried ceremonial centers along the Little Miami, people have been seeing something that does not fit ordinary biology. In 1955, a businessman near Loveland reported three or four humanoid figures, three to four feet tall, with leathery skin and frog- or lizard-like faces, gathered near a bridge or along the riverbank. One version mentions a wand-like object emitting sparks or light. In 1972, Loveland police officer Ray Shockey encountered a similar being on Riverside Drive near the old Totes boot factory and the river. It stood up in his headlights. His partner, Mark Mathews, later claimed to have shot one; decades afterward, he said it was a large tailless iguana that had escaped a pet owner and was living near warm factory pipes. The legend persisted anyway—scrape marks on guardrails, a creature climbing over or under them and vanishing into the water. In 2016, near Lake Isabella (right across from Indian Hill and close to the old Terrace Park area), Pokémon Go players reported seeing a large, frog-like figure standing on its hind legs.

My family has turned the Loveland Frogman into a running joke with the grandkids. “Let’s go catch a frogman tonight down by the river.” It is fifteen minutes from the house. We laugh, but the pattern is hard to ignore. These sightings cluster in the exact river corridor where major Hopewell ritual sites once stood—sites now largely erased by modern development. The beings show up looking for something that is no longer there: the shamans, the rituals, the precise geometric invitations that once opened doors between worlds. They arrive a couple of thousand years too late or too early, stepping over guardrails on Kemper Road or near Lake Isabella, still drawn to the old power spots along the Little Miami.

This is where Jacques Vallée enters the story through pure synchronicity. While sharing early drafts of The Politics of Heaven with agents, publishers, and consultants, multiple people independently told me the same thing: “You sound like Jacques Vallée. You need to read Passport to Magonia.” I had avoided deep dives into UFO literature because I did not want to be labeled the UFO guy. I knew Vallée had consulted on Close Encounters of the Third Kind, but I had not read his work. When the book arrived from Amazon the next day—waiting at a distribution center as if it had been pre-positioned—I opened it and immediately recognized the territory.

Vallée’s central argument in Passport to Magonia (1969) is that modern UFO occupants are not new. They are the fairies, elves, sylphs, demons, angels, and aerial beings of folklore repackaged for a technological age. He draws on medieval accounts of ships from Magonia—a legendary realm in the clouds whose sailors collected grain knocked down by storms—and shows the same encounter structure repeating across centuries: aerial craft, non-human entities, interaction (sometimes seductive or revelatory, sometimes disturbing), and departure. The beings adapt their appearance and story to the expectations of the witnesses. They leave physical traces but behave in ways that violate the physics implied by their appearance. They operate as a control system or an influence mechanism, interacting with human consciousness over time.

Magonia, in Vallée’s reading, functions like a rival sovereignty—a political order operating just outside or alongside our dimensional reality. That matched exactly what my research into the divine council and biblical politics had already led me to conclude independently. These are not simple visitors from another planet dropping in for disclosure or friendly ET chats. They are ultra-terrestrials or interdimensional intelligences with their own agendas, territories, and long game. They have been shaping human culture, religion, and politics for millennia—sometimes as gods or angels, sometimes as tricksters or tormentors. The Hopewell geometers and shamans were engaging them through precise ritual architecture. The frogman sightings suggest they still patrol the old contact zones.

I am not claiming every sighting is profound. Some are misidentifications or hoaxes. But the pattern—ancient ceremonial precision along the same rivers where cryptid activity persists, the synchronicity of arriving at Vallée’s conclusions through biblical and political inquiry, the consistent folklore structure across cultures—demands serious attention. Steven Spielberg captured a sanitized version in Close Encounters and E.T. The cute, friendly aliens who want to take us for a ride or phone home. The real record includes missing time, abductions, trauma, and manipulation. Vallée documented the disturbing side; mainstream disclosure narratives often soften it.

Understanding their politics matters. If these intelligences have motivations—territorial, informational, or influence-based—then treating them as either nonexistent or purely benevolent is a form of strategic blindness. Just as we map human political actors, we need to map theirs. The Bible already does some of that work. Anthropology and archaeology can do more if we stop pretending the “spirit world” was only a psychological projection. The evidence from Newark, Fort Ancient, the lost mounds of Terrace Park and Milford, the persistent frogman activity, and Vallée’s comparative folklore all point in the same direction: non-human intelligences have been here, interacting with us, and they have their own order.

I did not chase this rabbit hole for fame or money. There is little of either in the following evidence, this far outside the box. I followed it because the questions were honest and the evidence was insistent. The Politics of Heaven is the result—a treasure hunt through scripture, history, archaeology, and personal experience that refuses to stop at comfortable boundaries. The synchronicity with Vallée’s work was not a coincidence; it was confirmation that the evidence converges.

We are long past the point where we can afford to dismiss these patterns as mere folklore or swamp gas. The beings that built—or inspired—the precise geometries of the Hopewell earthworks, that still appear along the same rivers in forms adapted to our expectations, and that the Bible chronicles as members of a divine council with political agency, are operating with agendas. Mapping those agendas is not a conspiracy theory. It is the next necessary step in anthropology, political strategy, and honest theology.

The frogman is still out there, or something like him. The old sites are still under the neighborhoods. And the politics of heaven—and of Magonia—continue whether we pay attention or not.

Footnotes (selected key references; full bibliography follows):

1. Jacques Vallée, Passport to Magonia: From Folklore to Flying Saucers (1969; various editions). Core thesis on continuity between UFO occupants and historical aerial beings/fairies from Magonia and similar traditions.

2. Reports on Loveland Frogman: Singular Fortean Society coverage of 1972 officer sightings (Shockey/Mathews); WCPO 2016 interview with Mathews identifying the shot creature as a large iguana; 1955 Stringfield report of businessman sighting near Loveland/Little Miami bridges; 2016 Pokémon Go sighting near Lake Isabella.

3. Terrace Park earthwork: Historical Society of Terrace Park records noting a large ~80-acre enclosure visible into the 19th/20th century, now largely covered by development, homes, and school grounds—other local mounds destroyed by road construction.

4. Fort Ancient: Descriptions of hilltop enclosure overlooking Little Miami River, ~3.5 miles of walls, astronomical alignments (solstice, lunar). See National Park Service and archaeological summaries.

5. Newark Earthworks geometry and astronomy: Foundational work by Ray Hively and Robert Horn (1982 onward) on lunar standstill alignments in the Octagon; Bradley Lepper and William Romain on geometry, “squaring the circle” relations, cosmic/ritual function, pilgrimage center aspects. UNESCO World Heritage designation for Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks (2023) includes several Ohio sites.

6. Hopewell culture context: Widespread ceremonial earthworks across Ohio river valleys (Scioto, Little Miami, etc.), ~200 BCE–500 CE, advanced mathematics, astronomy, trade, likely shamanic ritual use of geometry and altered states. Many sites were lost to agriculture and urban development.

7. Biblical references: Job (divine council politics, Satan as a member testing Yahweh’s servant); broader Enochic and prophetic traditions on principalities, powers, and heavenly politics.

8. Frazer, James George. The Golden Bough (various editions). Foundational comparative study of myth, ritual, and interaction with spirit/great spirit across cultures; inspiration for expanded anthropology.

Bibliography (selected; expands on footnotes for depth):

• Vallée, Jacques. Passport to Magonia.

• Hively, Ray, and Robert Horn. “Geometry and Astronomy in Prehistoric Ohio.” Journal for the History of Astronomy: Archaeoastronomy Supplement (1982 and subsequent papers).

• Lepper, Bradley T. Multiple works on Newark Earthworks as ceremonial landscape, pilgrimage center, and geometric/astronomical achievement.

• Romain, William F. Works on Hopewell geometry, astronomy, cosmology, and Fort Ancient.

• Squier, Ephraim George, and Edwin Hamilton Davis. Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley (1848). Foundational survey including Ohio earthworks.

• Historical Society of Terrace Park records on local prehistoric earthworks.

• Singular Fortean Society, WCPO, and contemporary newspaper accounts of Loveland Frogman incidents (1955, 1972, 2016).

• National Park Service and Ohio History Connection materials on Fort Ancient and Hopewell sites.

• Frazer, James George. The Golden Bough.

• Biblical texts (Job, Enoch traditions, references to divine council and principalities).

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

The Resonance of Exceptional Sound: John Williams, the Art of the Film Score, and the Music That Refuses to Be Mediocre

I have always believed that the music which moves me most deeply is not the disposable pop that floods the airwaves and algorithms, but the symphonic scores crafted for great films. These orchestral works possess a unique power to resonate. They do not merely accompany the images on screen; they complete them, giving emotional weight and narrative propulsion to stories that might otherwise remain flat. They fill the spaces between dialogue and action with something larger than life, something that lingers in the mind and spirit long after the theater lights come up. In a culture saturated with catchy but ultimately empty beats designed to hypnotize rather than elevate, these scores stand apart as acts of genuine artistry.

Right now I am listening, as I have nearly every day since its release in June, to the soundtrack for Steven Spielberg’s new film Disclosure Day. Once again, at the age of ninety-four, John Williams has delivered something astonishing. The orchestration is smart and purposeful, the pacing precise, the way the music weaves itself into the story’s fabric nothing short of genius. There is a contemplative main theme tinged with Americana that grounds the middle-American setting, eerie string passages that echo earlier sci-fi explorations, and moments of darker dissonance that speak to forces trying to suppress hidden truths. There are chases and revelations, wordless choral passages, and a large symphonic ensemble of ninety-six players recorded over months rather than the usual frantic weeks. Even in its more restrained passages—music that, as Spielberg has described it, accompanies the film from slightly behind, giving it a subtle nudge forward rather than dominating—it carries that unmistakable Williams signature: it makes you feel the weight of what is at stake.

This latest score, their thirtieth collaboration stretching back more than half a century to The Sugarland Express in 1974, feels like both a culmination and a gift. It arrives at a moment when the film itself grapples with disclosure, with non-human intelligence, with truths long kept in shadow. The music does not sensationalize; it deepens. It reminds us that some stories require more than spectacle. They require a composer who understands how to make the unseen feel present, how to turn tension into transcendence.

I have loved Williams’ work for as long as I can remember, but one cue in particular has lived with me for over thirty years: “Desert Chase” from Raiders of the Lost Ark. I have listened to it countless times, including this very morning. It never grows old. In that relentless, driving music, you hear the truck barreling through the canyon, the Nazi driver pushing gears, the dust and violence and desperate ingenuity of Indiana Jones. Thrown from the vehicle, he finds a way back underneath it, fights his way forward, and seizes control. The cue builds through key changes that ratchet up the intensity, like a truck driver shifting up, until it resolves in hard-won triumph. Williams captured something essential there: exceptional tenacity. The refusal to quit when every force is arrayed against you. The ability to resurrect yourself from the dirt, climb back into the fight, and take the prize. That is not just action music. It is a philosophy rendered in orchestra.

I remember standing in an eighth-grade English class when the assignment was to share our favorite song. Classmates spoke of current hits—the Police, Van Halen, whatever dominated the radio that year. When my turn came, I said, without hesitation, “Desert Chase” by John Williams. There were puzzled looks. It was not what anyone expected, and it was not what the culture was steering us toward. But it was the truth. Even then, I knew the difference between music that merely entertains for three minutes and music that tells a story of struggle and victory, that makes you believe in the possibility of overcoming. My oldest daughter later slept with the Raiders of the Lost Ark soundtrack playing in her room; I could hear those themes drifting down the hall, the same composer who had already shaped so much of what I valued in storytelling.

What made Williams different from so many others who toiled in Hollywood before Jaws and Star Wars made him a household name? He had already built a substantial body of work—scores for television, for films like Daddy-O, Valley of the Dolls, The Reivers, the innovative Jane Eyre, disaster epics such as The Poseidon Adventure, Earthquake, and The Towering Inferno, and his first collaboration with Spielberg on The Sugarland Express. He was no unknown. He had won an Oscar for his work on Fiddler on the Roof. Yet many in the industry, particularly those operating by committee consensus, did not see the full measure of his gift. They judged him against the mediocre output that surrounded them and found him wanting because he refused to stay within those narrow bounds.

I recall profiles and television pieces from the mid-1980s, around the time he was scoring Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, that tried to unpack why he succeeded where others plateaued. The answer was always the same: he was exceptional, and exceptional talent is often invisible or threatening to those who measure everything by average standards. Corporate and studio cultures built on consensus, consultants, and committee decision-making tend to produce safe, forgettable products. George Lucas has spoken recently about how studios now hire rooms full of people to make films by committee, with screenwriters chasing paychecks and delivering whatever the money wants. The result is rarely inspired. Most studios passed on Star Wars entirely; they did not understand it and saw only risk. Twentieth Century Fox took the chance largely because of Lucas’s prior success with American Graffiti, not because executives grasped the epic vision. They undervalued what they could not immediately commodify.

Williams endured years of that environment. Mediocre people in positions of power often surround themselves with other mediocre people; it makes them feel less exposed in the mirror. They promote the average because true excellence makes them uncomfortable. They criticize work that aims higher as “too elevated” or not what “the public wants,” when what they really fear is being outshone. Committees become hiding places for those who lack the intuition or courage to back a singular vision. Williams kept working, kept refining his craft, kept writing music that filled narrative with emotional truth rather than wallpaper. It was only when he partnered consistently with other exceptional talents—Spielberg chief among them—that the string of iconic scores began to flow in full public view. But the genius had been there all along.

Spielberg’s particular gift as a director is his ability to recognize and elevate exceptional collaborators rather than constrain them. He does not manage by committee, noting that it dilutes everything to the lowest common denominator. He trusts the people who are operating at a higher level and lets them do what they do best. The result is work that consistently rises above the average—often far above. Their partnership across thirty films has produced some of the most memorable cinematic experiences of the last half-century precisely because it has been a meeting of two minds that value quality over consensus. In Disclosure Day, even as Williams works in a more restrained mode for much of the score, the moments of power still feel earned and inevitable. Spielberg has called scoring the reward at the end of making a film—the chance to hear what Williams will bring. That trust, that mutual elevation, is rare in an industry that too often punishes it.

This is why Williams’ music has always resonated so strongly with me. It embodies the same principles I have written about elsewhere: the development of intuition that lets you act decisively and accurately, the refusal to settle for mediocrity, the willingness to impose will and vision on circumstances rather than waiting for permission or group approval. In The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, I explored what it takes to rise above the common level, to shoot from the hip with precision because you have done the hard work of mastery. Williams’ career is a master class in that. He did not wait for the culture to catch up. He kept composing at the highest level, and eventually the culture—or at least the audiences and the exceptional partners—caught up with him.

Listening to this new score, I feel fortunate. For a man well into his nineties to pour such care, such detail, such soul into more than two hours of music—recorded across seven sessions over six months with a full orchestra, wordless choir, and meticulous attention to every nuance—is remarkable. I wish there were ten or twenty more to come. If this proves to be among the final chapters, it is a worthy one. His legacy is already secure: a body of work that has taught generations what great film music can do. It elevates ambition. It makes us believe we can overcome the truck that tries to run us over, find our way back into the fight, and claim something greater than we were handed.

In a world that often seems engineered to flatten the exceptional and reward the safe, John Williams has spent a lifetime doing the opposite. His music does not pander. It invites us upward. That is why I have never tired of “Desert Chase,” why I still listen to these scores rather than the latest pop confection, and why this latest offering from a ninety-four-year-old master feels like both a benediction and a call to keep striving.

The themes that run through Disclosure Day—the uncovering of hidden truths, the encounter with the unknown, the courage required to face what has been concealed—find their perfect counterpart in music that refuses to settle for the ordinary. As I continue my own work, including the forthcoming The Politics of Heaven, I am reminded that the battle between forces that would diminish human potential and those that call us toward greater clarity and courage is fought on many fronts. Music of this caliber is one of them. It reminds us what is possible when exceptional talent is allowed to do its work without being dragged down by committee or consensus.

I am grateful for every note John Williams has given us, and especially for this one. The hourglass may have less sand left than we would like, but what remains is still producing gold. That, more than anything, is the lesson worth carrying forward.

Notes

[^1]: John Williams was born on February 8, 1932. As of mid-2026, he is 94 years old.

[^2]: Disclosure Day (2026) marks the 30th collaboration between Spielberg and Williams, and Williams’ 105th theatrical film score since his debut in 1958. The score was recorded over seven sessions from September 2025 to February 2026 with a 96-piece orchestra.

[^3]: Notable pre-Jaws (1975) scores by Williams include work on Daddy-O (1958), Valley of the Dolls (1967), The Reivers (1969), Jane Eyre (1970), The Poseidon Adventure (1972), The Towering Inferno (1974), Earthquake (1974), and his first Spielberg film, The Sugarland Express (1974).

[^4]: Most major studios passed on Star Wars (1977). Twentieth Century Fox proceeded largely on the strength of Lucas’s prior success with American Graffiti, not full confidence in the concept itself. Lucas retained merchandising and sequel rights because the studio undervalued them.

[^5]: Spielberg has described the Disclosure Day score as “probably the most restrained score he has ever written for one of our collaborations—at least until it is not,” noting that Williams holds back in a subtle way that enriches the film by “accompanying it from slightly behind, pushing it forward.”

Bibliography / Further Reading

• Burlingame, Jon. “How John Williams Scored Steven Spielberg’s ‘Disclosure Day’.” Variety, 2026.

• “Disclosure Day: Everything you need to know about John Williams’ score.” Classic FM, 2026.

• “List of compositions by John Williams.” Wikipedia (detailed filmography).

• “TIMELINES: JOHN WILLIAMS” and related features. Film Score Monthly.

• Accounts of the development and studio reception of Star Wars in works such as J.W. Rinzler’s The Making of Star Wars and contemporary reporting.

• Spielberg’s public comments on the Disclosure Day score and his long partnership with Williams (various 2026 interviews and press notes).

The music plays on. Keep listening for what elevates.

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

The Ohio Governor’s Race: Why Vivek Ramaswamy Is Pulling Away as the Money Dries Up For the Loser Amy Acton

I have been saying for months that this Ohio governor’s race was never going to be as close as the liberal media and the Democratic machine kept insisting. As long as Amy Acton could raise and spend roughly equal amounts of money, they could buy enough advertising to keep the “horse race” illusion alive. That is how the game works in modern politics. Fundraising and media buys create the perception of competitiveness long after the fundamentals have already decided the outcome. But we are now in the middle of July 2026, and the gap is becoming impossible to hide. Elon Musk just put $5 million into the super PAC supporting Vivek Ramaswamy. That single check changes the entire dynamic, and the other side knows it.

I have watched David Pepper and the Marc Elias-style operatives do this routine before. They treat elections like a production where money buys the narrative, and the narrative buys time. They prop up candidates who cannot stand on their own record by flooding the airwaves with ads that soften the edges and attack the opponent on personality or wealth rather than substance. It works until the money runs short. Then the horse stops getting free drinks at the strip joint, and reality walks in. Right now, the money is tightening up for Acton, and the media that was happy to call this a toss-up while the checks were clearing is suddenly quieter about the fundamentals.

Vivek Ramaswamy is the exceptional candidate in this race. He is a Cincinnati native who built real companies, created real value, and succeeded on merit in competitive fields. He is a successful author and thinker who has already proven he can operate at the highest levels of government efficiency efforts alongside Elon Musk in the Department of Government Efficiency. He understands free markets, individual initiative, and the dangers of centralized government that tries to manage every resource and outcome from above. That is the opposite of the society Acton and her backers have spent years promoting—one that empowers mediocre administrators while punishing the very people and policies that generate prosperity.

Acton, by contrast, is a textbook product of the empire of mediocrity. She was the face of Ohio’s COVID lockdowns as state health director. She helped shut down businesses, kept drive-throughs and dining rooms closed at places like McDonald’s under ever-shifting rules, and contributed to the destruction of countless small enterprises that never recovered. Those policies were later exposed in court as unconstitutional overreaches. I had conversations with members of the Ohio Supreme Court back in 2020 as those cases were being prepared, and it was obvious even then that the lockdowns could not survive constitutional scrutiny. Governor DeWine eventually had to back away because the legal foundation was collapsing under him. Acton resigned under pressure from angry citizens protesting in the streets with no clear end in sight. None of that is the record of an exceptional leader. It is the record of someone who followed the centralized script, expanded bureaucratic power, and left real damage behind.

DeWine’s endorsement of Vivek took courage. It is never easy for a term-limited governor to put his name behind a successor who is positioned to outperform him, especially when that successor is running against the person DeWine himself appointed during the pandemic. The fact that he did it anyway tells you something important about where the party and the state are headed. Vivek is not an insider continuation of the old order. He is the disruption the old order needs if Ohio is going to stop losing ground on taxes, education, and economic freedom.

The money tells the real story right now. Vivek’s supporting super PAC has raised serious resources—tens of millions—and is deploying them aggressively. The $5 million from Musk is not just symbolic; it is a signal that serious people who create wealth and understand results are backing him. Acton cannot match that pace. When the advertising dollars dry up, the media loses interest in pretending this is a close contest. Voters are left with the actual records: one candidate who built success and wants to bring that same energy to Columbus, and another whose signature achievement was helping lock down the state economy in ways that proved unconstitutional and economically destructive.

I have been consistent on this since the race took shape. Vivek was always going to outperform the low expectations the media set for him once people looked past the noise. He is rolling out plans on property tax reform, real education choice that puts parents back in charge, and cooperation with a Trump administration that remains popular in Ohio for delivering results on the economy and border security. Acton’s side is still trying to run the old playbook—lawfare, media narratives, and enough cash to keep the “horse race” story alive. But the cash is not keeping up, and the voters are not buying the illusion the way they once did.

This race is a clear choice between two different visions of government. One side believes in self-initiative, free markets, and limited centralized power—the approach that actually lifts societies. The other side believes the government should take from producers and redistribute according to political priorities, the same model that has produced mediocrity and dependency wherever it has been tried at scale. Ohio does not need another governor who manages decline while protecting the administrative class. It needs a governor who will cut waste, reform taxes, fix the schools, and let exceptional people and exceptional businesses thrive rather than punishing them.

We are still a few months from November, but the trajectory is clear. As the funding gap widens and the media can no longer afford to prop up the fiction of a close race, Vivek Ramaswamy is going to pull away. The fundamentals were always on his side. The money is now confirming what the fundamentals already showed. Ohio has a real chance to choose exceptional leadership over the empire of mediocrity that has dominated too much of state government for too long. I have been saying it for months. The evidence is now impossible to ignore.

Footnotes

1. Elon Musk contributed $5 million to V-PAC, the super PAC supporting Vivek Ramaswamy’s campaign for Ohio governor. Cleveland.com, July 15, 2026.

2. Vivek Ramaswamy won the Republican primary for governor on May 5, 2026, with approximately 82.4% of the vote. Ballotpedia, “Ohio gubernatorial and lieutenant gubernatorial election, 2026.”

3. Amy Acton served as Ohio’s state health director and played a central role in the state’s early COVID-19 response and lockdown policies under Governor Mike DeWine.

4. Multiple court challenges in Ohio and elsewhere during 2020–2021 found various lockdown and business closure orders unconstitutional or beyond executive authority.

5. Governor Mike DeWine endorsed Vivek Ramaswamy for governor in 2025–2026, despite Acton having been his appointee during the pandemic period.

6. Ramaswamy’s campaign and supporting super PAC have raised and spent tens of millions, significantly outpacing Acton’s fundraising in key periods of 2026.

Bibliography (selected for further reading)

• Ballotpedia. “Ohio gubernatorial and lieutenant gubernatorial election, 2026” (primary results and candidate profiles).

• Cleveland.com. “Elon Musk puts $5 million behind ex-DOGE partner Vivek Ramaswamy’s governor bid.” July 15, 2026.

• Forbes. “Ramaswamy Wins Republican Primary In Ohio Governor’s Race.” May 5, 2026.

• AP News. “Trump-backed Vivek Ramaswamy wins Ohio Republican Party’s endorsement in 2026 governor’s race.” May 9, 2025.

• Vivek for Ohio campaign materials and platform statements (vivekforohio.com).

• Ohio Capital Journal and other Ohio political reporting on super PAC spending and fundraising totals, 2025–2026.

• Court records and contemporaneous reporting on Ohio COVID-era lockdown litigation and constitutional challenges (2020–2022).

• Various polling aggregates from mid-2026 showing the general election contest between Ramaswamy and Acton.

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

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