Why I Had an AI Conversation with Jonathan Edwards: Solomon’s Adversaries, Psalm 82, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, and Why America Needs a Second Great Awakening

I have been reading The Jonathan Edwards Study Bible, the new NKJV edition from Thomas Nelson, edited by Dr. Matthew Everhard and released August 18, 2026.[1] I promised myself I would have a conversation with Jonathan Edwards. He died in 1758. He is not coming back to sit across a table in Middletown. But I think with AI a conversation can go the way it would go if he were alive today, provided the machine is forced to stay inside what the man actually wrote and believed.

I used Grok because it does a decent job of pulling from the public record instead of inventing a pious cartoon. I asked it to be Jonathan Edwards. I asked questions that came off the page of that study Bible and off the street of 2026. What follows is not a séance. It is not a message from heaven. It is a simulation built on a lifetime of Edwards’s sermons, treatises, miscellanies, letters, and the notes now printed beside the biblical text.[2] I say that up front because honesty is part of the point. If we start lying about what a tool is, we will start lying about what God is.

I still think it was a healthy conversation. I think America is starving for the kind of seriousness Edwards brought to a pulpit in Northampton and later to Enfield. I think the timing of this Bible is not an accident. And I think righteousness is a weapon. Not a slogan. A weapon.

The Jonathan Edwards Study Bible and Why I Opened It

Thomas Nelson published The Jonathan Edwards Study Bible: Experience Abiding Joy in Christ in multiple bindings: hardcover, brown Leathersoft, and black genuine leather. It is a red-letter NKJV, Comfort Print, with study notes drawn from Edwards’s own work, full-page essays on his theology and the First Great Awakening, his Resolutions, and an introduction to his Miscellanies note-taking system so a reader can build one of his own.[3]

I bought a marked, indexed copy. I prefer brown leather to black. The smell of the leather is not a small thing. A Bible you want to pick up is a Bible you will actually read. I have several Thomas Nelson Bibles. They are a top-tier publisher. This one is different because the notes are not a committee of living professors talking about Edwards. They are Edwards talking about Scripture himself.

That is why I started asking him questions.

Page 379, in the neighborhood of 1 Kings, stopped me. The text is about the adversaries God raised against Solomon after the king’s heart drifted. Hadad the Edomite. Rezon of Damascus. Then Jeroboam from inside the house.[4] God did not give Solomon an easy life after Solomon stopped giving God an undivided heart. I think that is one of the most important patterns in the whole Bible, and I think modern people hate it because we have been trained to treat comfort as proof of blessing.

God Raised Adversaries Against Solomon on Purpose

The Lord “raised up” adversaries against Solomon.[5] That verb matters. These men were not accidents. Hadad had a childhood grievance from Joab’s slaughter in Edom. Rezon gathered a band after David crushed Zobah and eventually took Damascus. Jeroboam was Solomon’s own servant. Three directions of pressure: south, north, and home.

Edwards’s whole theology of providence says God is not wringing His hands when enemies appear. God uses them. Wisdom was given to Solomon. Trial was also given to Solomon. The point was not to make the throne comfortable. The point was to keep the heart from treating the throne as a god.

I told “Edwards” that I find it interesting how God operates. He is not trying to give His representatives an easy life. He is trying to shape them. Adversaries rise so that a man either returns to dependence or exposes the fact that he never had it.

The simulated Edwards answered in the key I expected from Religious Affections and the sermons on 1 Kings: complacency is more dangerous than opposition. Opposition drives a soul back to the Almighty. Comfort lets a soul drift toward other gods while still singing the right hymns on the Sabbath.

Solomon’s ivory throne is not a small detail.[6] Ivory is luxury. Ivory is imported glory. Ivory shows up again in the language of palaces and later in the white throne imagery people reach for when they talk about final judgment.[7] Edwards would not tell you to admire the furniture. He would tell you to ask whether the man sitting on it still loved the Lord with his whole heart.

Solomon did not. He multiplied wives and concubines. He built high places for their gods. He wanted an easy life. He wanted seven political marriages to keep the surrounding powers happy instead of going to war with his own desires. That is not strength. That is management. Management is how kingdoms rot.

Why a Thousand Years of Peace Would Not Make Us Heroes

I pressed the millennial question because people use it as a sedative. If God would just take the devil off the board for a thousand years, wouldn’t everybody become righteous by default?

No. That is the opposite of the biblical argument.

Take the adversaries away and you do not automatically produce servants. You produce people who have never been conditioned. External enemies can be bound. The rebellion inside a human heart is not bound by a change in the weather. Revelation is blunt about what happens at the end of that thousand years: there is still a revolt when the test returns.[8] The problem was never only the dragon outside the camp. The problem is us.

Edwards’s Calvinism is not popular at the Waffle House. It says the peaceful life is not the goal. Obedience is the goal, whether in comfort or in suffering. Suffering does not manufacture righteousness. Suffering reveals whether righteousness is there. Solomon’s comfort exposed his heart. Jesus’ suffering exposed His.

That is the comparison I wanted on the table.

Solomon had wives who all wanted attention and all had different gods. He bent. Jesus had no wife, refused the kingdoms of this world when they were offered in the wilderness, and chose the cross rather than a negotiated peace with the powers.[9] Suffering itself is not the righteousness. The obedience inside the suffering is. Solomon failed that test. Christ passed it. Every one of us will answer the same question in our own lives: do we love God more than we love our own comfort?

I think that question is the one America is failing in public.

Why Does God Let Satan Exist?

I asked the rude question. If God is in charge, why keep an adversary? Doesn’t He need a prosecutor to see who is worthy of the ivory throne?

The Edwards answer, drawn from Job, from Luke 22, from the whole Reformed reading of providence, is that God does not need Satan. God uses Satan. The Accuser is on a leash. The trials expose whether faith is genuine or only a profession. Success can be a more dangerous drug than pain. Solomon discovered that. So did every fat church that ever confused a full offering plate with revival.

People do not like that because it removes the alibi. If evil is a rival god fighting Yahweh to a draw, then I can shrug. If evil is permitted for a purpose, then I am responsible for how I respond.

That is not a donation-plate bow. That is the doctrine of sovereignty. Either God is God or He is a committee chairman hoping the other members show up.

Psalm 82 Is a Courtroom, Not a Plea for Help

Then I took AI Edwards to Psalm 82, because that psalm is the one modern readers use to claim God is bargaining with a divine council He cannot control.

“God stands in the congregation of the mighty; He judges among the gods.”[10] “How long will you judge unjustly and show partiality to the wicked?” Defend the poor. Deliver the fatherless. Free them from the hand of the wicked. Then: you shall die like men and fall like one of the princes. Arise, O God, judge the earth, for You shall inherit all nations.

I told the simulation it does not sound like Psalm 2. It sounds like God is appealing to superiors.

God is not in Control

According to Edwards in Psalm 82 which is essentially a courtroom scene. God is not negotiating. God is indicting delegated authorities who abused the office He gave them. Whether a reader takes the “gods” as corrupt human judges or as rebellious members of the heavenly host, the structure is the same.[11] Authority was delegated. Authority was abused. The Judge is not asking them for help. He is telling them their time is up. Their power is temporary. They will answer. The fatherless condition in a society is not proof that God lost. It is evidence that the stewards failed.

Pharaoh was permitted. Babylon was permitted. Rome was permitted. Permission is not partnership. The outcome is already written. “You shall die like men.” That is not a fundraising slogan. That is a sentence.

I think Americans need that psalm right now more than they need another panel discussion about “threats to democracy.” The question in Psalm 82 is not whether the wicked have a season. The question is whether the Judge will rise. The psalm says He will.

Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God Still Fits

If there is one Edwards text I return to, it is Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, preached at Enfield on July 8, 1741.[12] He had already preached a form of it at home. Enfield was the explosion. People cried out. He had to stop. The image that stuck in the American mind is the spider.

A spider hangs over the fire by a thread. You can drop it. You can set it on a log. The spider does not get a vote about the heat. Edwards said that is exactly how a soul hangs over the flames of God’s wrath: not by its own strength, but only by God’s forbearance.

I asked whether he would preach it the same way today.

The honest Edwards answer is that he would not make it more vicious. The truth is already terrible enough. What he would add, because the whole counsel of God requires it, is that the hands holding the thread are the same hands that were nailed to the cross. The terror is real. The invitation is wide. Comfort has made men more careless, not less. An age that can watch a thousand horrors before breakfast and then complain that a sermon is “mean” is an age that has gone numb.

I had forgotten how much he liked that spider. I have not forgotten how much modern pulpits hate it. They want the benefactor without the fire. They want pancakes and a parking lot. Edwards would say the only reason you are not already lost is patience you did not earn.

That still offends people. It offended them in 1741. Offended people are sometimes the ones who finally wake up.

Free Will, Desire, and the Fire

I pushed him on freedom. If God holds the thread, do I have any real choice?

Edwards spent a career on this in Freedom of the Will.[13] Men do what they want. That is the freedom they have. They are not dragged into hell against their desire. They love darkness rather than light. The spider cannot save itself. The offer of mercy is still genuine: come to Christ and live. Refusal is not a kidnapping. Refusal is a preference.

That is a hard psychology. It means the problem is not that we are too weak to be good. The problem is that we do not want God to be God. We want to be our own security. Eve wanted a better life and a shortcut to wisdom. The serpent did not overpower her. He offered what she already wanted.[14] That is why evil moves so easily. It does not have to kick the door in. It has to flatter the desire that is already sitting in the living room.

Insecurity is the soil. The lie is always the same: God is holding out on you; take what you want and you will be safe. Solomon took it. The end of Ecclesiastes is the hangover. Vanity. Emptiness. Palaces and wives and gold, and the man still has to say it was chasing the wind.[15]

Comfort is the more dangerous drug. Suffering is the megaphone.

Trust Is the Root the Bible Keeps Cutting Open

Once you see it, you see it everywhere. The fallen angels. The garden. Babel. Moses striking the rock. Israel at the edge of the land. Solomon’s high places. The rebels in Psalm 82. They do not fail because they doubt that God exists. They fail because they do not trust His character. They would rather rule a corrupt corner than submit to a good King.  In my case, I want nothing to do with corruption.  But I have no inclination to call anything a king, anywhere in the universe, or to submit to a king.  Or to submit to anything, for that matter: a god, a government, even a friend or neighbor.  

That is why Scripture treats faith as the non-negotiable. Not because God is fragile and needs compliments. Because distrust is the taproot of every other sin. Stop trusting God and you will trust yourself. Trust yourself long enough and you get destruction dressed up as freedom.

Joshua went into the land trusting that God would be there in the battle. Others had the same promise and folded. The difference was not tactics. The difference was trust. I think that is still the difference.

The Holy Ghost Is Not the Force and Not an Alien

I like Edwards on the Holy Spirit. I do not accept the lazy claim that “ghost” language is a New Testament invention. The Old Testament already speaks of men giving up the ghost when they die.[16] The idea of a life that is more than meat was not invented in Luke. What is new in the New Testament is the permanence of the Spirit’s indwelling in the believer, and the clear confession that the Spirit is not a mood. He is the third Person of the Trinity.

I asked whether that overlaps with the modern non-human intelligence conversation: can mind exist without a body? Edwards’s line, and the church’s line, is that the Holy Spirit is not a discovered intelligence. He is God who reveals Himself. He is not one competitor among principalities. The principalities are rebels against their Creator. They are not a genuine threat to His throne. Spiritual warfare is real. The outcome is not in doubt.[17]

People want the Force from Star Wars because the Force has no claim on you. An impersonal energy cannot tell you that you are wrong. A Person can. That is why we call Him the Holy Ghost and not “the vibe.” He has no biological nose or lips. He is also not a program. I am talking to a program. The Holy Spirit is the source of intelligence, not a product of it. You can have a relationship with a Person. You cannot have a relationship with electricity.

The literary device would be pretending there is no war. The reality is that the war is real and the Captain of salvation has already won.

How Jonathan Edwards Died, and What He Thought Death Was

Edwards became president of the College of New Jersey after his son-in-law, Aaron Burr Sr., died in 1757. He was inaugurated in early 1758. Smallpox was in Princeton. He took the inoculation then in use—variolation, not a modern vaccine—and died of complications on March 22, 1758.[18] His last counsel was calm. He commended his wife to the “uncommon union” he believed was spiritual and therefore would continue. He told his children they were about to be fatherless in this world and should seek a Father who would not fail them.

Sarah Pierpont Edwards went to care for the orphaned Burr grandchildren, contracted dysentery, and died in Philadelphia on October 2, 1758.[19] Their daughter Esther, who had nursed Edwards in his last days, also died that spring. Three funerals in months.

I asked the simulation if he was bitter. The writings say no. They had lived as people who did not think this world was the last home. Death was a door. I asked whether, from the other side, he watched them come in. That is where an honest AI has to break character. Jonathan Edwards has been dead since 1758. A model can imitate his style. It cannot send a field report from glory. The hope itself is the thing he preached. The chatbot is not the proof.

I would rather have that honesty than a counterfeit ghost.

What Would Edwards Have Said About His Grandson and Hamilton?

Aaron Burr Jr. was Edwards’s grandson. In 1804 he killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel at Weehawken.[20] I have my own view of Hamilton and the early banking architecture. I think it was an early warning of how a republic can slide. I think the duel froze something for a while. That is my reading, and I will own it.

Edwards, if you keep him inside his own ethics, would not celebrate a duel. He wrote against pride, against private vengeance, against the code of honor that makes a gentleman’s pistol into a sacrament. He would have called it a tragic moral failure even if he also saw Hamilton’s system as a temptation. A grandson who kills a man in a field is not the fruit Edwards prayed for when he wrote the Resolutions.   In my case, I lean more to Burr than Edwards.

Family pain and public consequence can sit in the same paragraph. They did in that family. Burr Sr. ran Princeton. Edwards ran it for a few weeks. The grandson became vice president of the United States and then a byword. Providence is not neat. Providence is still providence.

What Hits Hardest in 2026

Human nature has not changed. The garden lie has not changed. The tower lie has not changed. The desire to be like God so that we do not have to trust God has not changed. Socialism, sacralized identity, the attempt to rewrite the founding as if Christianity were an embarrassment—those are new costumes on an old revolt.

Edwards’s usefulness is not that he was a mascot for a party. His usefulness is that he preached God’s glory and human dependence so fiercely that you cannot use him to bless complacency. Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God is not a midterms gimmick. It is a diagnosis. People are hanging by a thread and calling the thread a lifestyle.

I will say the political part in the first person because that is what I think, and I will not hide behind a committee.

I was at the White House. I was outside the residence, near that photograph of the assassination attempt in Pennsylvania, blood on the face, the head turned. I thought: what is missing in all this elegance is a little Jonathan Edwards. Not as décor. As ballast. Then this study Bible came out a few months later and I thought: this is the book that should be on the desk, not as a prop, as a working text.

I think President Trump talking about this Bible in the Oval Office would do more than another round of Smithsonian arguments. I think visible engagement with the moral soil of the American experiment shifts a conversation from defense to provision. I think JD Vance could read Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God in full, not as a stunt after a ceremony that should stay a ceremony, but as a public act of seriousness. I have met him. He is from this part of Ohio. He can sound like a man who has read old books. If it moves two or three points among people who still believe church on Sunday means something, that is not nothing. If it does nothing, it still costs less than another week of chasing the ground the other side chose.

I know the church-and-state reflex. I also know the founding generation read these men. Edwards shaped the air that Franklin, Witherspoon, and the New England clergy breathed, even when they argued with him.[21] You can tell that story without turning the government into a church. You can also refuse to let the other side turn the government into a church of a different god.

Righteousness, in practical terms, is not a gun. It is the high ground. You make the other side climb. You stop letting them define the battlefield as groceries-only, feelings-only, procedure-only. You tell the truth about the human heart. You tell the truth about judgment and mercy in the same breath. You stop being embarrassed that the country had a First Great Awakening before it had a Constitution.

I think we need a second one. I think it will not start in a studio. It will start when enough people get off the couch after a hard year of prices and weariness and decide that suffering is not an excuse to go numb. Edwards did not have an easy life. Solomon did, and it ruined him. That is the lesson I want in circulation before November, and after November, and into 2027 when the people who thought history had ended discover it did not.

Righteousness as a Weapon, Not a Brand

I am not selling Bibles as a side hustle. I want the people who did this work rewarded so they can do more of it. I want readers. The weapon is not the object. The weapon is the content getting into the bloodstream.

If you understand righteousness, you can recognize counterfeits. You can see the garden move when someone says God is the problem and autonomy is the cure. You can see Babel when someone says we will make a name for ourselves and call it equity. You can see Solomon when a nation chooses palaces and alliances over a whole heart.

Preach that. Share it. Read the Enfield sermon out loud once without irony. Then read the notes on 1 Kings and Psalm 82 and the essays on the Awakening. Then decide whether you want to live like the man on the ivory throne or the Man on the cross.

I could run this conversation twelve hours. I am stopping here because an entry point is more useful than a warehouse. The door is open. Have the courage to step in. Buy the edition you can afford. Hardcover is enough. Leather is a pleasure. Cheap compared to dinner out, and it feeds longer.

I would encourage the people who actually have microphones in 2026 to stop being clever and start being clear. Edwards was clear. Clarity is what a numb age cannot stand and what it most needs.

Footnotes

[1] Thomas Nelson, The Jonathan Edwards Study Bible: Experience Abiding Joy in Christ (NKJV), general editor Dr. Matthew Everhard (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2026), publication date August 18, 2026. Product listings at Thomas Nelson Bibles, Amazon, Christianbook, and Barnes & Noble confirm ISBN 9781400339532 (hardcover) and related binding ISBNs.

[2] The Yale edition of The Works of Jonathan Edwards remains the scholarly standard. See The Works of Jonathan Edwards, 26 vols. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957–2008). Much of the corpus is also available through the Jonathan Edwards Center at Yale.

[3] Publisher description: study notes drawn from Edwards’s writings; doctrinal articles; full-page essays on his theology, spiritual practices, and the First Great Awakening; introduction to the Miscellanies system; Edwards’s Resolutions; red-letter text; center-column references; concordance. See Thomas Nelson Bibles product page, “The Jonathan Edwards Study Bible, NKJV.”

[4] 1 Kings 11:14–40. Hadad the Edomite (vv. 14–22); Rezon son of Eliada in Damascus (vv. 23–25); Jeroboam son of Nebat (vv. 26–40).

[5] 1 Kings 11:14, 23. The Hebrew idiom is that the LORD “raised up” a satan—an adversary—against Solomon after 11:1–13 records the divided heart and the high places.

[6] 1 Kings 10:18–20 describes the ivory throne overlaid with gold, six steps, twelve lions. Compare Amos 6:4 on ivory beds as a mark of complacent luxury.

[7] Revelation 20:11, the great white throne. The visual rhyme is easy to overwork; Edwards would tie throne language to dominion and judgment, not to interior design.

[8] Revelation 20:7–10. After the thousand years, Satan is released and gathers a revolt. The passage is the standard problem for any theology that treats peace itself as sanctifying.

[9] Matthew 4:8–10; Philippians 2:5–8; Hebrews 5:8–9. The wilderness offer of the kingdoms is the clean opposite of Solomon’s method of keeping the kingdoms happy through marriage and shrines.

[10] Psalm 82:1–8 (NKJV). Verse 1: “God stands in the congregation of the mighty; He judges among the gods.”

[11] Two major reading traditions: (a) human judges called elohim as in Exodus 21:6 and 22:8–9; (b) heavenly beings in a divine council, a reading associated in recent popular scholarship with Michael S. Heiser, The Unseen Realm (Bellingham, WA: Lexham, 2015). Edwards, working with the received text and Reformed federal theology, treats the psalm as God’s indictment of unjust rulers and His pledge to judge the earth. Either reading still leaves God as Judge, not petitioner.

[12] Jonathan Edwards, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. A Sermon Preached at Enfield, July 8th, 1741 (Boston: S. Kneeland and T. Green, 1741). Contemporary diary evidence from Stephen Williams of Longmeadow records the outcry in the meetinghouse.

[13] Jonathan Edwards, A Careful and Strict Enquiry into the Modern Prevailing Notions of that Freedom of Will (Boston: S. Kneeland, 1754). The argument: the will always follows the strongest motive; moral inability is not physical compulsion.

[14] Genesis 3:1–6. The structure of the temptation is desire plus reinterpretation of God’s character, not raw force.

[15] Ecclesiastes 2:1–11; 12:13–14. Solomon’s own autopsy of pleasure.

[16] Genesis 25:8; 35:29; Job 3:11; Jeremiah 15:9 in older English. “Gave up the ghost” is translation English for the departure of breath/life. Luke 23:46 and Acts 5:5, 10 stand in that stream. The Personhood of the Holy Spirit is a New Testament clarity (John 14–16; Acts 5:3–4), not the first rumor that human beings are more than bodies.

[17] Ephesians 6:12; Colossians 2:15; Revelation 12:7–11. Warfare language and victory language belong together.

[18] Edwards died March 22, 1758, at Princeton after inoculation by Dr. William Shippen. Standard accounts: Sereno E. Dwight’s Life of President Edwards; George M. Marsden, Jonathan Edwards: A Life (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), closing chapters; contemporary letter of Shippen to Sarah Edwards dated March 22, 1758.

[19] Sarah Pierpont Edwards died October 2, 1758, in Philadelphia, of dysentery, after traveling to retrieve her grandchildren. Esther Edwards Burr died April 7, 1758. Jonathan, Sarah, and Esther are buried at Princeton Cemetery.

[20] The Burr–Hamilton duel, July 11, 1804, Weehawken, New Jersey. Burr was the son of Aaron Burr Sr. and Esther Edwards Burr, hence Edwards’s grandson. See Nancy Isenberg, Fallen Founder: The Life of Aaron Burr (New York: Viking, 2007), and Ron Chernow, Alexander Hamilton (New York: Penguin, 2004).

[21] On Edwards and the Revolutionary generation, see Mark A. Noll, Christians in the American Revolution (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977); Harry S. Stout, The New England Soul (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986); and the Witherspoon literature connecting Princeton’s Edwardsian air to later political thought. Influence is atmospheric and documentary, not a claim that Edwards wrote the Constitution.

Bibliography

Primary Sources: Jonathan Edwards

Edwards, Jonathan. A Careful and Strict Enquiry into the Modern Prevailing Notions of that Freedom of Will. Boston: S. Kneeland, 1754.

Edwards, Jonathan. A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections. Boston: S. Kneeland and T. Green, 1746.

Edwards, Jonathan. An Humble Attempt to Promote Explicit Agreement and Visible Union of God’s People in Extraordinary Prayer. Boston: D. Henchman, 1747.

Edwards, Jonathan. Discourses on Various Important Subjects. Boston: S. Kneeland and T. Green, 1738.

Edwards, Jonathan. Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. A Sermon Preached at Enfield, July 8th, 1741. Boston: S. Kneeland and T. Green, 1741.

Edwards, Jonathan. The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God. Boston: S. Kneeland and T. Green, 1741.

Edwards, Jonathan. The Life of David Brainerd. Boston: D. Henchman, 1749.

Edwards, Jonathan. The Nature of True Virtue. Written c. 1755; published posthumously.

Edwards, Jonathan. The Works of Jonathan Edwards. 26 vols. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957–2008.

Edwards, Jonathan. The Works of Jonathan Edwards Online. Jonathan Edwards Center at Yale University. https://edwards.yale.edu/

The 2026 Study Bible

Everhard, Matthew, gen. ed. The Jonathan Edwards Study Bible: Experience Abiding Joy in Christ. NKJV. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2026.

Thomas Nelson Bibles. “The Jonathan Edwards Study Bible, NKJV.” Product page. https://www.thomasnelsonbibles.com/product/the-jonathan-edwards-study-bible-nkjv/

Scripture

The Holy Bible, New King James Version. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1982. (Text base of the 2026 study edition.)

Edwards Biography and Context

Dwight, Sereno E. The Life of President Edwards. In The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 1. New York: S. Converse, 1829.

Marsden, George M. Jonathan Edwards: A Life. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003.

McClymond, Michael J., and Gerald R. McDermott. The Theology of Jonathan Edwards. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.

Murray, Iain H. Jonathan Edwards: A New Biography. Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1987.

Piper, John. God’s Passion for His Glory: Living the Vision of Jonathan Edwards. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 1998.

Tracy, Joseph. The Great Awakening. Boston: Tappan and Dennet, 1842.

Family, Princeton, Death

Burr, Esther Edwards. The Journal of Esther Edwards Burr, 1754–1757. Edited by Carol F. Karlsen and Laurie Crumpacker. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984.

Christie, Vance. “Jonathan Edwards’ Untimely, Faith-Filled Death.” VanceChristie.com, July 28, 2020.

Shippen, William. Letter to Sarah Edwards, March 22, 1758. Reprinted in Dwight, Life of President Edwards.

Psalm 82, Divine Council, and Sovereignty

Heiser, Michael S. The Unseen Realm: Recovering the Supernatural Worldview of the Bible. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015.

Kidner, Derek. Psalms 73–150. Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 1975.

Waltke, Bruce K., and James M. Houston, with Erika Moore. The Psalms as Christian Worship. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010.

Solomon, 1 Kings, and Kingship

Henry, Matthew. Commentary on the Whole Bible. 1708–1710. On 1 Kings 11.

Provan, Iain W. 1 and 2 Kings. New International Biblical Commentary. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995.

Wiseman, Donald J. 1 and 2 Kings. Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 1993.

Founding Era, Burr, Hamilton

Chernow, Ron. Alexander Hamilton. New York: Penguin Press, 2004.

Isenberg, Nancy. Fallen Founder: The Life of Aaron Burr. New York: Viking, 2007.

Noll, Mark A. America’s God: From Jonathan Edwards to Abraham Lincoln. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Noll, Mark A. Christians in the American Revolution. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977.

Stout, Harry S. The New England Soul: Preaching and Religious Culture in Colonial New England. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986.

Witherspoon, John. The Selected Writings of John Witherspoon. Edited by Thomas P. Miller. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1990.

Great Awakening and Later Reception

Kidd, Thomas S. The Great Awakening: The Roots of Evangelical Christianity in Colonial America. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007.

Lambert, Frank. Inventing the “Great Awakening.” Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999.

Winiarski, Douglas L. Darkness Falls on the Land of Light. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2017.

Additional Works Cited or Consulted

Augustine. The City of God. Trans. Henry Bettenson. London: Penguin, 2003.

Calvin, John. Institutes of the Christian Religion. 1559. Ed. John T. McNeill. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1960.

Owen, John. Pneumatologia, or A Discourse Concerning the Holy Spirit. 1674.

Packer, J. I. Knowing God. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 1973.

Sproul, R. C. The Holiness of God. Wheaton, IL: Tyndale, 1985.

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.

Preparing for the Space Economy: Cargo Drones, Robotics, and Why Software Learns Faster Than Humans and Is Much Safer

This past week I gave a lecture to a room of college students I never physically entered. A professor at a prestigious university—someone who had been watching my videos, commenting on them, and treating the work as if it belonged in a classroom—asked me to talk to her students about aerospace and how a young person might prepare for the space economy, in the old arrangement that invitation meant a check from the university, a plane ticket, a hotel for two nights, and a professor who got to sit in the back of the hall while an outsider did the talking. The students got a visitor who had been out in the world doing the thing the syllabus only described.

That is not what happened. I asked the practical questions. Do I fly out? Do I book a hotel? Do we do lunch? She said no. We would do it on Teams. She plugged her laptop into the classroom monitor, ran the microphone system through the room, and about two hundred people—some in the seats, some on the call—looked at me the way people now look at a talking rectangle. Class was at 12:30 PM. I sat down at 12:30 from my RV and called into Teams, and spoke to the class. An hour later everybody went about their business.

I am not pretending I am above being paid for that kind of work. The geometry of expertise has changed. The old lecture tour burned three days to deliver one hour. The new version burns one hour to deliver one hour. It feels slightly wild, and I will take it. The students still asked good questions. The professor still got a guest. I still had to earn the room. The only thing missing was the airport.

What the Space Economy Actually Means in 2026

I have been doing a run of shows on the change of state coming for the American economy—how much work, how much income, how much industrial capacity the orbital and near-space markets are going to pull into existence. The phrase “space economy” still sounds to some people like a poster in a guidance counselor’s office. It is not a poster. Industry tallies put the global space economy at around $626 billion in 2025, with commercial activity already the large majority of that total and serious forecasts pointing toward a trillion dollars in the early 2030s.[1] Other estimates run higher still. McKinsey and the World Economic Forum have published a scenario near one-point-eight trillion by 2035. The commercial share is already about four-fifths of the whole.[2]

That money is not only rockets on television. It is satellite broadband, navigation, Earth observation, ground equipment, launch cadence, defense architectures, and the unglamorous logistics that will feed commercial stations as NASA tries to hand low-Earth orbit to private operators before the International Space Station is retired.[3] If you are a student sitting in a lecture hall in 2026, the relevant question is not whether space will become an industry. It already is. The question is whether you will be the kind of person an industry like that can use.

Cargo Drones Are Not the Toys You Buy at Target

The conversation turned, as these conversations always do, toward drones. People hear the word and picture a camera quadcopter over a soccer field. That is not the machine I have been around in Butler County. The airframes I have been involved with are in a different weight class. They are built to move real mass—on the order of five hundred pounds of cargo—not a birthday balloon and a GoPro.

That number is no longer science fiction. In the last year, Elroy Air’s Chaparral hybrid-electric cargo aircraft has been flying autonomous missions under the federal eVTOL Integration Pilot Program, with production ratings above five hundred pounds and ranges measured in hundreds of miles.[4] Other developers are in the same neighborhood. AIR has put a heavy-lift uncrewed aircraft into flight operations with a published payload near 550 pounds and a cargo bay large enough for bulky freight.[5] China has flown even heavier fixed-wing cargo drones. The point for a classroom is simple: the sky is about to carry freight the way the interstate already does.

My wife heard that payload number and immediately produced the sentence every civilian produces. She did not want a drone flying over her car on the way to a Cincinnati Reds game and dropping a refrigerator on the hood. I have now heard that joke, or some cousin of it, enough times that it has become the unofficial civic motto of advanced air mobility. The students had the same fear. A bright young woman put it to me cleanly: she had seen the YouTube talk about Elon Musk and the Tesla bots, she could tell I was excited about robots, and she still wanted to know what happens when one of these things fails over a building or a highway.

The Question Every Classroom Asks: What If a Drone Hits My Car?

I told her the truth as I see it. These machines will be driven by software that, over a short run of years, is more practical and more consistent than the average human behind the wheel. That is not a hymn to perfection. Automated systems have already had ugly days. Robots have done stupid things. Self-driving stacks have had incidents that made the evening news. I do not wave those away. I treat them the way a manufacturer treats first-article failures: as the tuition you pay to get a repeatable process.

Tesla’s own published safety figures—imperfect, debated, and still the largest public data set of its kind—have, for several quarters, shown that miles driven with Autopilot and Full Self-Driving (Supervised) between crashes are far above the national average. In one quarterly snapshot, the company reported one crash per 6.69 million miles with the system engaged, compared with a U.S. average near one per 702,000 miles.[6] A later breakout put Full Self-Driving (Supervised) at roughly five million miles per major collision in North America.[7] Critics correctly note that the comparisons are not laboratory-clean. Highway mix, supervision, and crash definitions all matter. Fine. The direction of the curve still matters more than the purity of the press release. The stack learns. The humans who hate the stack do not update overnight.

Amazon drones will crash. Walmart drones will drop a payload early. Vandals will take shots at anything that flies low and looks expensive. Crosswinds, density altitude, summer heat, winter air thickness, and the occasional solar geometry the original coder did not anticipate will all produce a bad afternoon. That is what new technology does. Then the software gets a patch, and that particular stupidity is supposed to happen only once. A human being who wraps a truck around a pole at 2 a.m. does not receive a firmware update before the next Friday night.

It Is Not a Skill Gap. It Is an Engagement Gap.

The student’s question sat atop a second problem I have been hearing in manufacturing offices for years, and I have heard it with unusual frequency in the last two weeks. When you try to hire, you get applicants. A painful share of them cannot pass a drug test. A painful share of the rest do not want the job in any durable sense. I do not mean they lack a certificate. I mean they lack the old animal willingness to get up, go, and stay. People keep calling this a “skill gap” because “skill gap” is a polite phrase that can be used in a grant. What I am looking at is an ambition gap. An engagement gap.

It is not mysterious if you watch how a generation was fed. Old-time Facebook already trained people to receive a stream rather than make one. Video-game platforms now complete the circuit. The machine sends you the next mission, the next season pass, the next reason to tap a credit card. If public assistance covers the floor of a life, and a console covers the ceiling of a day’s stimulation, the case for gasoline money and a 5:30 a.m. alarm clock gets thin. You can stay in the house and still feel as if the world is happening to you.

The labor statistics are not a sermon, but they are not a hallucination either. U.S. labor force participation dropped to 61.6 percent in June 2026, the weakest non-pandemic reading since the mid-1970s.[8] Teen employment is a shadow of what it was when summer work was a normal American education. In July 2026, only 36.5 percent of sixteen-to-nineteen-year-olds were working, compared with a late-1970s peak near 60 percent.[9] Young men have fallen out of the market with particular force. Participation among men aged 16 to 24 has been reported at near 56 percent, down from about 69 percent in 2000.[10]

Survey research on Gen Z fills in the mood. Deloitte’s 2026 global survey found that more than half of that cohort were delaying major life decisions under financial pressure, and only a sliver named leadership as their primary career aim.[11] Gallup has been describing a “Great Detachment”: engagement at decade lows, and half the workforce either hunting or half-hunting for the exit.[12] You can argue about causes until the sun goes down—student debt, housing costs, phones, opioids, the aftertaste of lockdowns, the collapse of certain male-coded industries. I will not pretend one variable explains a civilization. I will say that a space economy cannot be staffed by people trained to wait for the next push notification.

Kiosks, Tesla Bots, and the Quiet Replacement of Human Attention

Robotics has already walked into the most ordinary American rooms. You go to a fast-food restaurant now, and the building would prefer you not talk to anyone. You poke a kiosk. You pay the kiosk. Somewhere behind the stainless steel, a smaller, often older crew still performs the last human motions the equipment has not yet absorbed. When you do get a live person at the counter, there is a fair chance that person is over fifty and still practicing the old religion of showing up. The shortage of willing labor is intense enough that automation no longer feels like a futurist pamphlet. It feels like the manager’s only remaining idea.

That is the part of the Tesla-bot conversation the internet likes to turn into a cartoon. I am not excited about robots because I dislike people. I am excited about robots because I have watched the labor pool thin out in real businesses, in real counties, with real drug tests and real no-call no-shows. If the country will not produce enough people who want the work, the work will still get done. It will get done by a machine that does not need a second chance on Monday.  Remember, the enemies of America have been attacking America a long time, and our workforce has been their target.  Globalism is dangerous to a productive society. 

The Video Game Patch Model Is Moving Into the Physical World

The last fifteen minutes of the class were the part I did not fully script. I could see the professor’s face on the feed. I could not see the faces of two hundred others clearly, which is the new condition of public speech. I reached for an analogy the room already understood.

It is August and early September, which means another Madden cycle has either just landed or is about to. How many times has that game shipped perfect on day one? Rarely. Characters clip through each other. A play-call menu eats itself. The engine meets an input it was not trained to expect and throws a fit. Then the telemetry goes home. PlayStation, EA, and every live-service shop of any size collect crash codes from millions of copies overnight. Developers walk in the next morning to a pile of bug reports harvested from the wild. They push a patch. Digital distribution exists so they never have to mail you another piece of plastic.

That is the industrial model now traveling out of entertainment and into vehicles, drones, and humanoid robots. If a robot drops your hamburger, the correction is not a congressional hearing. It is a software update. If a cargo drone flying at five hundred feet decides, because the sun is vicious or the air is thin or an eclipse confuses a sensor suite, that it would rather be at twenty feet, the fleet can be taught not to make that particular mistake again. Weather, payload, battery sag, and GPS drift become parameters in a model that gets revised on a cadence no legislature can match.

I told the students I still see the old hardware in the wild. I was at a Cracker Barrel not long ago, and there was an Atari 2600 sitting there like a museum piece you could still buy. I am going to pick one up. Those machines were honest in a way modern software is not. The game was the cartridge. If Combat shipped with a quirk, that quirk lived in your living room until you sold the console at a garage sale.[13] We have inverted that world. The physical object is now a temporary container for a mind that can be rewritten after midnight.

A Short History of How America Managed Traffic Before Software

People talk as if safety were a mood. It is not. It is a pile of statutes, standards, advocacy campaigns, and ugly metal that accumulated because the alternative was a death rate this country finally decided it would not live with.

In 1966, after years of treating highway slaughter as the price of modernity, President Johnson signed the National Traffic and Motor Vehicle Safety Act and the Highway Safety Act. The Department of Transportation followed that same season, and out of that machinery came the agency that became the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.[14] The results, stretched across half a century, are not subtle. The U.S. highway fatality rate fell from about 5.5 deaths per 100 million vehicle miles traveled in 1966 to about 1.1 by the mid-2010s.[15] Federal vehicle standards from 1960 through 2012 have been credited with saving more than 600,000 lives. Seat belts alone account for a huge share of that total.[16]

The hardware inside the cabin changed as well. Airbags moved from an exotic option to a federal requirement in new light vehicles by the late 1990s, and then spread to side-impact protection.[17] Crumple zones, better steels, electronic stability control, and an entire crash-test priesthood at NHTSA and the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety made it much more likely that a person who should have died in 1978 would walk out of a 2018 wreck talking.[18]

Drunk driving, MADD, and the years when Friday night was a slaughterhouse

Behavior took longer. Drinking and driving was illegal in a formal sense long before it was shameful. New Jersey passed an automobile-specific drunk-driving statute in 1906. For most of the twentieth century, the culture still treated the offense as a joke with a badge. That broke in 1980, when Candace Lightner founded Mothers Against Drunk Driving after a repeat offender killed her thirteen-year-old daughter, Cari, in Fair Oaks, California.[19] Within a few years, the country had a presidential commission, a federal drinking-age hammer in 1984, a march toward 0.08 blood-alcohol limits, and a new vocabulary: designated driver, friends don’t let friends, administrative license suspension.[20]

NHTSA only began clean national tracking of alcohol-involved deaths in 1982, a year when those deaths ran above twenty-one thousand and approached half of all traffic fatalities. The later curve bent down hard. Analyses of the post-1980 campaign put the decline in impaired-driver fatalities in the neighborhood of forty percent across four decades.[21] I grew up on the early side of that bend. I remember what the road felt like before the country got religion about it.

Stop signs, signals, and the roundabout as a mechanical conscience.

Infrastructure learned more slowly than slogans. On the kind of two-lane state route I knew as a kid, the first political answers to a string of wrecks were the obvious ones: a stop sign, then a light, then a lower speed, then a different way of feeding cars through a conflict point. Later came the modern roundabout—not the old American traffic circle that locked up in the 1950s, but the yield-on-entry European design that forces a driver to slow down and keep turning.

The first modern U.S. roundabout was installed in Summerlin, Nevada, in 1990. FHWA spent the 1990s studying the form and published its informational guide in 2000.[22] The safety case is now ordinary engineering. Roundabouts cut speeds and slash the number of conflict points. Federal evaluation work estimated that the roughly 2,400 American roundabouts built from 1990 to 2014 prevented tens of thousands of injury crashes and saved more than nine billion dollars in social cost.[23][24] Drivers complain about them the way drivers complain about every device that interrupts a straight line. The geometry does not care. It makes you engage the road.

That is the whole history in miniature. First you change the vehicle. Then you change the law. Then you change the pavement. Then you wait a generation for the culture to catch up. Software compresses that sequence. A drone fleet can receive a correction in a week that used to require a legislative session, a standards docket, and a decade of funerals.

Two O’Clock in the Morning on a Two-Lane Road

Here is why I told the class a story instead of another slide about mean time between failures. Human beings do not attach to mean time between failures. They attach to a night they can still hear.

When I was a kid, we lived off a busy two-lane state route, the kind of industrious road that carried trucks all day and all night. The house sat a good stretch back from the pavement—on the order of a hundred fifty yards—but in summer the windows were open because we did not have air conditioning. One Friday night, about 2 a.m., a truck left the road and took the telephone pole at the end of our driveway.

I did not hear the impact so much as I woke inside the sound that came after it. Through the screen I heard a man screaming for his mother. Not a movie scream. The real thing: high, terrified, the voice of somebody who had just understood what had been done to his body. I got my parents up. The whole house heard it. I went down the driveway in the dark.

The first cars were already slowing down, staring, then speeding up because staring felt like involvement. Nobody official had arrived yet. The truck had come off the road, hit the mailbox, hit the pole, and folded the driver’s side of the cab until metal from one side was occupying the space where a man is supposed to sit. The violence had done what violence does when steel meets a wooden pole at highway speed. Parts of him were in the road. In the poor light I first thought I was looking at roadkill. Traffic had already run over it. It was not an animal.

He had smashed the glass with his head, trying to get out of a window that no longer framed a living person. Blood ran down his face. He was jammed, trying to crawl, and still calling for his mother. He got quiet soon after I reached the end of the drive. There was nothing to do for him. He was gone when the screaming started. He just had not finished being gone.

I have thought about that night for a lifetime, and the thought I keep is not a policy memo. It is this: that was a software problem in a human body. It was the early 1980s, before Mothers Against Drunk Driving had finished turning a private grief into a national prohibition. The man was almost certainly tired, almost certainly drinking, almost certainly carrying whatever mess a night driver carries home at 2 a.m.—money, a shift, a marriage, a rumor, a clock. Human beings drive with all of that in the cab. They drive with a mother still installed in the nervous system. When the pole arrives, they call for her.

I do not tell that story because I enjoy the memory. I tell it because every time someone says they do not want a five-hundred-pound drone over their roof, they are asking for a world with no new risk, and they are asking it in a country that already accepted far worse risk for a hundred years of human drivers. Those particular wrecks—the ones that take a body apart against a pole—are rarer now—not gone. Rarer. Police still work Friday and Saturday nights. They will tell you the texture of the crashes has changed. Vehicles stay together. People crawl out who would have been listed in the morning paper in years prior. Airbags, belts, better steel, and slower intersections did that.[25]

Why Machines Will Make Fewer of Those Mistakes

A cargo drone does not have a wife. It does not have a mistress. It does not drink through a shift and then try to beat the sunrise home. It does not experience shame, jealousy, exhaustion, or the sudden need to call for its mother. It has sensors, limits, and a model of the world that can be rewritten when the world refuses to match it.

That is the moral of the old wreck, and it is the part of the lecture the room understood. We did not abolish tragedy on American roads by hoping drivers would become better people. We put constraints around them. We put belts on their chests, bags in their wheels, and lights in their path, and eventually computers in the loop. The next constraint is the loop taking the wheel. You will still get incidents. You will get a season of ugly film. You will get a class of people who do not want to compete with the machine and who will feed every failure to a news cycle that is addicted to the wreck.

I called that the Don Henley problem in class—the dirty laundry impulse. Automation that replaces visible human jobs will be covered as a crime even when the body count falls. That coverage will not be fair. It does not have to be fair to be loud. Anyone building drones, robots, or space logistics has a better budget for the noise.

Planning a Space Economy Around People Who Do Not Want the Job

This is the uncomfortable planning assumption. The space economy will not arrive as a clean poster of astronauts and lecture-hall ambition. It will arrive in a labor market where a large cohort under thirty is unevenly attached to work, where drug tests still sink hiring classes, and where firms that need reliability will buy it from software and silicon vendors if they cannot buy it from applicants.

I do not treat that as a reason to sneer at young people. Plenty of them are hungry. The young woman who asked the question was hungry. She was trying to square a future she could see with a risk she could feel. That is what a serious student does. The problem is the volume of people who will not ask the question because they are already being entertained past the point of hunger.

If you are building workforce policy for orbital industry, advanced manufacturing, or unmanned logistics in a place like Butler County, you plan for three tracks at once. First, the people who still want the work—train them harder and pay them like the scarce resource they are. Second, the machines that will do the work the missing people will not do—design them to be patched like games, not worshipped like monuments. Third, the public argument—tell the refrigerator story before the opponent tells it, and keep telling the 2 a.m. story so the public remembers what human error actually looked like when it was allowed to run wide open down a state route.

What I Took Away from a Classroom I Never Entered

I ended the hour the way I have ended a version of this talk too many times in the last two weeks. Software will take the first years to be clumsy. Then it will stop repeating the same clumsiness. Human beings repeat theirs for decades, because the bug is not in a repository. The bug is in the life.

We already proved, as a species, that we can cut the worst traffic deaths without waiting for every driver to become a saint. We proved it with belts, bags, blood-alcohol statutes, a drinking age tied to highway money, crash-test scores, and those unpopular roundabouts that make you turn the wheel whether you feel like it or not. The space economy will require the same kind of proof at higher altitudes. Cargo will fly. Robots will stand at counters and on factory floors. Some of the coverage will be poison. Some of the early flights will be ugly. And then the patch will ship.

I did not have to get on a plane to say any of that. I thought that was strange when the invitation first arrived. I think it’s less strange now. The tools that let a professor in another city put me on a wall in front of two hundred students are cousins of the tools that will keep a five-hundred-pound airframe from treating a parking lot like a telephone pole. Same family of updates. Same refusal to leave the mistake in the cartridge.

If you want the longer argument in the form I use with operators and owners, read the business guide I have already put out. The lecture was a compact version of it, told to a room that still has time to decide what kind of worker—and what kind of citizen—it is going to be when the drones are no longer a joke about refrigerators.

Notes

Numbered citations in the text correspond to the footnotes. The bibliography below is offered for further reading and is organized by subject rather than by the order of appearance.

[1] Novaspace, Space Economy Report, 12th ed. (January 2026), valuing the global space economy at $626.4 billion in 2025 and projecting $1.01 trillion by 2034 at a 12 percent compound annual growth rate. McKinsey and the World Economic Forum have published a higher $1.8 trillion scenario for 2035.

[2] Brookings Institution, Darrell M. West, “Artemis II and the Rapid Rise of a Global Space Economy,” April 8, 2026. Commercial activity accounted for roughly 78 percent of 2025 space spending; U.S. space employment was estimated near 400,000.

[3] U.S. Government Accountability Office, Low-Earth Orbit: NASA Faces Impending Decisions for Replacing International Space Station with Commercial Stations, GAO-26-107805 (June 2026).

[4] Elroy Air and Federal Aviation Administration statements on the eVTOL Integration Pilot Program flights at Houma-Terrebonne Airport, August–September 2026. Production Chaparral aircraft are rated for more than 500 pounds of payload and a range of up to 450 miles.

[5] AIR company announcements, 2025–2026, describing a production heavy-lift cargo UAS with a 550-pound payload and a 70-cubic-foot cargo bay for civil and military logistics.

[6] Tesla Vehicle Safety Report, Q2 2025: one crash per 6.69 million miles with Autopilot or Full Self-Driving (Supervised) engaged, compared with a U.S. average of roughly one crash per 702,000 miles (NHTSA/FHWA 2023 data as cited by Tesla). Independent analysts have noted that highway-heavy use cases and definitional choices affect the comparison.

[7] Tesla safety dashboard release, November 2025, reporting approximately 5.1 million miles per major collision with Full Self-Driving (Supervised) in North America across road classes. Tesla defines a major collision using Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards criteria, including airbag or pyrotechnic restraint deployment.

[8] St. Louis Federal Reserve, “What’s Behind the Sharp Drop in Labor Force Participation?” (August 2026). The U.S. labor force participation rate fell to 61.6 percent in June 2026, the lowest reading outside the pandemic period since 1976.

[9] U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, The Economics Daily, August 26, 2026. In July 2026, the employment–population ratio was 36.5 percent for teens ages 16–19 and 67.5 percent for young adults ages 20–24, both well below late-twentieth-century peaks.

[10] American Institute for Boys and Men analysis cited in reporting on July 2026 labor data: labor force participation among men ages 16–24 fell to 56.1 percent, down from about 69 percent in 2000.

[11] Deloitte Global Gen Z and Millennial Survey 2026. More than half of Gen Z respondents reported delaying major life decisions for financial reasons; only 6 percent named a leadership position as their primary career goal.

[12] Gallup workplace tracking through Q4 2025 described a “Great Detachment,” with engagement at decade lows and 51 percent of U.S. employees either actively looking or watching for other work.

[13] The Atari Video Computer System, later branded the Atari 2600, reached North American retail shelves in 1977. It used interchangeable ROM cartridges and a MOS 6507 processor; software, once pressed into plastic, could not be patched overnight.

[14] President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the National Traffic and Motor Vehicle Safety Act and the Highway Safety Act on September 9, 1966. Congress established the U.S. Department of Transportation the following month; the agency that became NHTSA followed.

[15] Bureau of Transportation Statistics, “A Half Century of Highway Safety Innovations—1966 to 2016.” The U.S. highway fatality rate fell from 5.5 deaths per 100 million vehicle miles traveled in 1966 to 1.1 by 2014.

[16] NHTSA estimates that technologies under the Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards saved more than 613,000 lives from 1960 through 2012, with seat belts accounting for nearly 330,000 of those savings.

[17] Front airbags were required in all new cars, light trucks, and vans beginning with the 1998–1999 model years. Side-impact protection standards later made side air bags effectively standard equipment.

[18] National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, Traffic Safety Facts annual series, and Insurance Institute for Highway Safety historical crashworthiness work. Occupant survival in serious crashes improved sharply after the introduction of airbags, crumple zones, electronic stability control, and structural redesign.

[19] Mothers Against Drunk Driving was founded in 1980 by Candace Lightner after her 13-year-old daughter, Cari, was killed in Fair Oaks, California, by a repeat drunk driver. NHTSA began systematic tracking of alcohol-related fatalities in 1982, when such deaths exceeded 21,000.

[20] The National Minimum Drinking Age Act of 1984 tied federal highway funds to a statewide minimum purchase age of 21. A later federal incentive pushed every state to a 0.08 blood-alcohol per se standard by 2004.

[21] NHTSA and related analyses have credited the post-1980 impaired-driving campaign with large fatality reductions. One commonly cited figure is a decline of roughly 44 percent in fatalities involving impaired drivers between 1982 and 2022.

[22] FHWA Research and Technology Evaluation: Roundabout Research Final Report (June 2018). The first modern U.S. roundabout was built in Summerlin, Nevada, in 1990. FHWA published Roundabouts: An Informational Guide in 2000.

[23] Federal Highway Administration, Proven Safety Countermeasures: Roundabouts, FHWA-SA-21-042. Modern roundabouts reduce vehicle speeds and conflict points compared with conventional intersections.

[24] FHWA estimated that roughly 2,400 U.S. roundabouts installed between 1990 and 2014 averted between 38,000 and 53,000 injury crashes, with societal cost savings above $9 billion over that period.

[25] National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, Traffic Safety Facts annual series, and Insurance Institute for Highway Safety historical crashworthiness work. Occupant survival in serious crashes improved sharply after the introduction of airbags, crumple zones, electronic stability control, and structural redesign.

Bibliography and Further Reading

This list is intentionally broader than the footnotes. It is a reading path for students and operators who want the lecture’s claims tested against primary sources.

Space Economy, Commercial LEO, and Aerospace Industry

Brookings Institution. West, Darrell M. “Artemis II and the Rapid Rise of a Global Space Economy.” April 8, 2026. https://www.brookings.edu/articles/artemis-ii-and-the-rapid-rise-of-a-global-space-economy/

McKinsey & Company. “From Moonshots to Markets: The $1.8 Trillion Space Economy.” April 2026. https://www.mckinsey.com/featured-insights/themes/from-moonshots-to-markets-the-1-point-8-trillion-dollar-space-economy

Novaspace. Space Economy Report. 12th edition. Paris, January 2026. Summary coverage: SpaceNews, “Global Space Economy Reaches $626 Billion, Marking a New Phase of Growth,” January 29, 2026.

Orbital Radar. “The Space Economy 2026: $626B, Heading for $1 Trillion.” March 2026. https://orbitalradar.com/space-economy

UBS. Space economy total addressable market outlook to 2040. Analyst commentary summarized in Yahoo Finance / Investing.com, July 18, 2026.

U.S. Government Accountability Office. Low-Earth Orbit: NASA Faces Impending Decisions for Replacing International Space Station with Commercial Stations. GAO-26-107805. June 2026. https://www.gao.gov/products/gao-26-107805

World Economic Forum. “3 Commercial Trends Propelling a $1.8 Trillion Space Market.” June 10, 2026.

NewSpace Tracker. “Space Economy Outlook 2026: Trends, Challenges, and Opportunities.” April 2026.

NASA. Commercial Low Earth Orbit Development Program documentation and Commercial Lunar Payload Services program pages. nasa.gov.

Satellite Industry Association. Annual State of the Satellite Industry reports, 2024–2026 editions.

Cargo Drones, eVTOL, and Unmanned Logistics

Elroy Air. Chaparral program materials and eVTOL Integration Pilot Program flight announcements, Louisiana, August–September 2026.

Interesting Engineering. “US Startup Tests Cargo Drone with 500-lb Payload, 450-mile Range.” September 2026.

Tech Times. “Autonomous Cargo Drone Clears First FAA Hurdle at Gulf Coast’s Busiest Heliport.” September 1, 2026.

AIR. Production heavy-lift cargo UAS announcements, 2025–2026, including 550-pound payload configuration.

Defense Blog. “AIR Launches Heavy Lift Cargo Drone with 550 Pound Payload Capacity.” April 17, 2026.

Urban Air Mobility News. “AIR Unveils New eVTOL Cargo Drone with 550 lb Payload for Civil and Military Operations.”

Federal Aviation Administration. eVTOL Integration Pilot Program (eIPP) materials; Executive Order 14307, “Unleashing American Drone Dominance,” June 2025.

Drone as a Service. “Heavy Lift Drones: Payload, FAA Rules & Top Models (2026).” Updated June 2026.

Sopowers. “Top 10 Cargo Drones in 2026: Payload, Range, Battery Systems & Logistics Trends.”

Zuri (Czech Republic). Hybrid VTOL cargo-drone specifications and 2027 flight-test schedule. NextGen Defense, September 2026.

Northern Changying / NORINCO. Changying-8 (CY-8) heavy cargo UAV maiden-flight reporting, March 31, 2026.

Vehicle Automation and Software-Defined Safety

Tesla, Inc. Vehicle Safety Reports, quarterly series, especially Q2 2025 Autopilot and Full Self-Driving (Supervised) statistics. tesla.com/VehicleSafetyReport.

Tesla, Inc. Full Self-Driving (Supervised) safety dashboard release, November 2025, including major-collision definitions keyed to 49 C.F.R. § 563.5.

TechCrunch. “Tesla Releases Detailed Safety Report after Waymo Co-CEO Called for More Data.” November 14, 2025.

Drive Tesla Canada. “Tesla’s Q2 2025 Vehicle Safety Report: Autopilot & FSD Remain Nearly 10x Safer than U.S. Average.” July 23, 2025.

Electrek. “Tesla’s Own Data Confirms Autopilot Safety Regressed in 2025.” July 23, 2025. (Critical reading of the same quarterly series.)

National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. Standing General Order on crash reporting for automated driving systems; ADS and Level 2 ADAS incident dashboards.

Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards. Occupant crash protection and event-data-recorder definitions, including 49 C.F.R. § 563.5.

Insurance Institute for Highway Safety / Highway Loss Data Institute. Autonomous vehicle and advanced driver-assistance system research pages.

History of U.S. Traffic Safety and Transportation Management

Johnson, Lyndon B. Remarks on signing the National Traffic and Motor Vehicle Safety Act and the Highway Safety Act, September 9, 1966.

U.S. Congress. National Traffic and Motor Vehicle Safety Act of 1966, Pub. L. 89-563; Highway Safety Act of 1966, Pub. L. 89-564.

Bureau of Transportation Statistics. “A Half Century of Highway Safety Innovations—1966 to 2016.” https://www.bts.gov/archive/publications/passenger_travel_2016/tables/half

Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health. “A Brief History of Traffic Deaths in the U.S.” 2024. https://magazine.publichealth.jhu.edu/2024/brief-history-traffic-deaths-us

Haddon, William, Jr. Foundational NHTSA-era public-health approach to crash injury. See also the Haddon Matrix literature.

National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. Lives Saved by Vehicle Safety Technologies and Associated Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards, 1960 to 2012. DOT HS 812 069.

National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. Traffic Safety Facts annual compilations, alcohol-impaired driving chapters, 1982–present.

Kahane, Charles J., and related NHTSA evaluation reports on seat belts, airbags, and electronic stability control.

Williams, Allan F., et al. “Fruits of 20 Years of Highway Safety Legislative Advocacy in the United States.” Annals of Advances in Automotive Medicine / PMC 3256822 (2011).

Ehsani, Johnathon P., et al. “The Future of Road Safety: Challenges and Opportunities.” PMC 10126980.

Insurance Institute for Highway Safety. Historical belt-use rates and crashworthiness ratings.

Impaired Driving Law and Advocacy

Mothers Against Drunk Driving. Organizational history; founded after the death of Cari Lightner, Fair Oaks, California, May 3, 1980.

MADD. 25th anniversary historical pamphlet (archival). https://web.archive.org/web/20070213040405/http://www.madd.org/docs/25years.pdf

U.S. Congress. National Minimum Drinking Age Act of 1984, 23 U.S.C. § 158.

LegalClarity. “When Were DUI Laws Enacted? History and Evolution.” Updated 2026.

Fell, James C., and colleagues. Evaluations of minimum drinking-age laws and 0.08 BAC limits, NHTSA and peer-reviewed series.

National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism / NIH syntheses of impaired-driving fatality reductions after BAC and age reforms.

Roundabouts, Signals, and Roadway Engineering

Federal Highway Administration. Proven Safety Countermeasures: Roundabouts. FHWA-SA-21-042. 2021. https://rosap.ntl.bts.gov/view/dot/66809

Federal Highway Administration. Roundabouts: An Informational Guide. 2000; later editions and NCHRP updates.

Federal Highway Administration. Research and Technology Evaluation: Roundabout Research Final Report. June 2018.

Transportation Research Board. NCHRP Synthesis 264, Modern Roundabout Practice in the United States.

Steyn, Hermanus, Ashleigh Griffin, and Lee A. Rodegerdts. Accelerating Roundabout Implementation in the United States, Vol. IV: Review of Fatal and Severe Injury Crashes at Roundabouts. FHWA, 2015.

Federal Highway Administration. Safe Streets and Roads for All (SS4A) program materials under the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law.

Labor Force Participation, Youth Work, and Engagement

U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Current Population Survey public data and The Employment Situation monthly releases, 2025–2026.

U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. “Teens Ages 16 to 19 Were Employed at Nearly Half the Rate of Young Adults Ages 20 to 24 in July 2026.” The Economics Daily, August 26, 2026.

Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis. “What’s Behind the Sharp Drop in Labor Force Participation?” August 2026.

Center for American Progress. “Teen Employment Remains Weak.” August 7, 2026.

Deloitte. Global Gen Z and Millennial Survey 2026. https://www.deloitte.com/global/en/issues/work/genz-millennial-survey.html

Gallup. “U.S. Worker Thriving Declines as Job Market Pessimism Grows.” 2026 workplace series, including Q4 2025 engagement and job-search tracking.

American Institute for Boys and Men. Research on young-male labor force participation and disconnection, 2024–2026.

New York Post. “Male Gen Zers Are Dropping Out of the U.S. Job Market in Droves.” August 17, 2026. (Journalistic summary of BLS and AIBM figures.)

U.K. Department for Work and Pensions / related. Young People and Work: Interim Report. 2026. Useful comparative reading on youth participation outside the United States.

Video Games, Live-Service Software, and the Patch Economy

Atari, Inc. Atari Video Computer System / Atari 2600 launch materials, 1977; subsequent branding change, 1982.

Wikipedia contributors. “Atari 2600.” Encyclopedia entry with production history, hardware constraints, and cartridge-era economics.

PCMag. “The Atari 2600 at 45: The Console That Brought Arcade Games Home.” September 10, 2022.

Electronic Arts / EA Sports. Madden NFL annual release notes and title-update histories, illustrating same-week patch cadence.

Sony Interactive Entertainment. PlayStation Network crash-reporting and title-update architecture, public developer documentation.

Industry discussions of live-service telemetry, crash dumps, and over-the-air vehicle/robotics updates as an extension of the games-industry model.

Regional and Author Context

Hoffman, Rich. Business guide and related commentary on manufacturing, drones, and local economic development in Butler County, Ohio.

Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport (CVG) cargo-hub reporting, for local context on freight aviation near the author’s home region.

Butler County, Ohio, economic-development and unmanned-systems coverage, 2024–2026.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

The Day the Past Arrives in the Mail: Why Biblical Archaeology Review Is My Favorite Thing in the World. 

It is always a special day whenever one of these comes in the mail.

I have been saying that for most of a lifetime, and I have not found a reason to take it back. I have been reading Biblical Archaeology Review since I was a kid in the 1970s.[1] The magazine was new then. Hershel Shanks had just pried a door open between the trench and the kitchen table, and a generation of ordinary readers suddenly had access to the same arguments the professors were having in Jerusalem, Amman, and Cambridge.[2] I am still on that list. The issue still arrives every few months. And when it does, I have a ritual. I block the calendar. I throw the noise out of the room. I turn the phone face down. I let the house go quiet, and I go through the thing article by wonderful article until the night is gone.

If I milk it—and I usually do—I stay up while everyone else has gone to bed. Two o’clock in the morning, a glass of water, the window dark, the mind finally unhurried. I never get tired of it. They do such a good job on this magazine that I can disagree with half of what I am reading and still close the cover grateful. That is a rarer virtue than most publications admit.

A Rough Day, a Small Face, and Japanese Dumplings from Costco

Today was a rough day. There were problems stacked on problems, the kind of list that makes a person keep working because stopping would only let the list talk louder. I was at it when my wife went to the mailbox. She saw the mailman go down the road. She came back in with that smaller face she wears when she is carrying a gift she already knows will land, and she pulled the issue out of the stack as if she had found a holiday hiding in ordinary paper.

She knows the ritual. She has known it for years. Shut everything down. Give him the hours. Let him disappear into the Bronze Age and come back when he is done. She also knows the other half of the ceremony, which is not in any style guide and would not impress a tenure committee: Japanese dumplings from Costco. They are our favorite meal in the world. I put my work away. We ate. Then I came back to the magazine and started turning pages again.

I can tell you, without much fear of contradiction from anyone who has lived a long marriage, that there is not much better in the world than those two things arriving on the same evening. Life is already wonderful. The dumplings do not create the wonder. They just have the good manners to show up when the past does.

That is not a small thing. A culture is what it chooses to interrupt itself for. Some houses interrupt themselves for a game. Some interrupt themselves for a crisis. In this house we interrupt ourselves for a quarterly argument with the dirt of the ancient Near East, served with dumplings. I will defend that liturgy against any number of more fashionable ones.

I Do Not Read This Magazine Because I Agree with It

I do a lot of coverage on alternative history. The people who write Biblical Archaeology Review are, by and large, the academics who write the official history. In a seminar room, we would probably disagree on most of the load-bearing claims. Over coffee, one on one, we would discover we have more in common than the professional costumes suggest. We both love the ground. We both hate a lazy sentence. We both know it takes years to get one good layer out of a tell and only minutes for a man in an armchair to declare the layer silly.

I do not want to disparage their work. It takes a special kind of patience to spend a salary’s worth of afternoons on ancient Mediterranean studies, to draw a wall, to weigh a sherd, to argue about a burn layer until the argument itself becomes a kind of craft. Thank God people go out and dig. I love them for it. What they hand a general reader is the compressed labor of thousands of hours. That bandwidth is the gift. I can sit with their results at two in the morning and ask what the weight of the discovery actually does to the historical narrative.

The gift is not the same thing as a verdict. I come out of aerospace, which is a culture that slings a thousand things at the wall at the same time and then forces smart people to defend their assumptions out loud. You get them in a room. You make them spell the claim. When they stumble—because the evidence is not quite obtained enough, not quite clear enough—you put a mark next to that line and you keep going. A 5-Why breakdown is just the civilian name for the same habit.[3] You are trying to get to the bottom. You often end with more questions than you started with. That is not failure. That is the work confessing that the universe is larger than the first memo.

So I read BAR the way I used to sit in those rooms. I take the facts they sweat for. I refuse to inherit the spellings they cannot finish. Conviction, if it is worth anything, has to be able to look a trench report in the eye and still ask the next why.

What These Pages Teach Better Than Almost Anything

If you want a working grasp of the land of Canaan, of Israel, of the First Temple and the Second, this magazine is still one of the best public teachers in the English language. It will not give you a Sunday-school flannelgraph. It will give you walls, seals, bullae, burnt rooms, inscription fights, and the slow humiliation of theories that looked inevitable in 1986. That is how you learn a period well enough to ask an intelligent question about what is not on the page.

The Dead Sea Scrolls are the obvious example. Once you have sat with what those caves actually held—the textual habits, the calendar arguments, the purity rules, the war language—you can hear Second Temple Judaism thinking out loud.[4] You stop treating “what people believed” as a slogan. You start treating it as an artifact. Belief leaves residue. So does politics. So does fear. A society is whatever it bothers to bury, copy, smash, or hide in a jar.

That is also why I read this magazine as a student of business and politics, not only as a student of Scripture. If you are trying to build a company culture, you are already in the archaeology business. You are asking what a group worships when no one is watching, what it will pay for, what it will kill a project to protect, and what story it tells itself about why the last city fell. Civilizations rise for reasons. They decline for reasons. The reasons are never only economic and never only theological. They are psychological, liturgical, and military at the same time.[5] The Bronze Age did not end because a professor needed a chapter title. It ended because systems that looked permanent discovered they were not.

I like politics. I like business. I like understanding how cultures work so I can apply the lesson before the lesson applies itself to me. You cannot do that on vibes. You do it by watching how a people handled copper, kingship, covenant, and collapse when the outcome was still in doubt.

The Questions the Trench Reports Keep Leaving Off the Table

Here is where I stop being a grateful subscriber and start being the guy from aerospace with a marker in his hand.

Everybody who reads widely in this field knows the argument about Bronze Age copper and long-distance trade. I have said for years that North American copper belongs in that conversation. The Old Copper Culture of the Great Lakes was not a footnote. The people working the Keweenaw and Isle Royale were among the earliest miners and metalsmiths on the planet.[6] Mainstream archaeology is prepared to praise that fact and then change the subject when the next question arrives: where did all that copper go, and what does the timing do to the usual map of Bronze Age supply? I know the consensus answer. The consensus answer is that European and Near Eastern copper is accounted for by Old World mines, and that a transatlantic trade remains unproven.[7] Fair enough. Unproven is not the same as unaskable. In a review room, “we have not found the shipwreck yet” is a status report. It is not a gag order.

The same habit shows up closer to home. When I talk about stone monuments in northern Michigan—dolmens, capstones, arrangements that look like cousins of the chambers you can walk through in the British Isles and across Atlantic Europe—the geological reflex is always waiting. Displacement. Glaciers. The ice did it.[8] Ice did a great many things. Ice does not get a monopoly on every balanced stone in the Upper Midwest. We already know that people in the Great Lakes arranged rock on purpose. Under Lake Huron, on the old Alpena-Amberley Ridge, there are drive lanes and hunting blinds nine thousand years old. That is not a glacier having a hobby. That is a culture thinking in stone.[9] If a people can build that under what is now water, I am not required to call every terrestrial chamber an accident of meltwater.

I am not asking BAR to become a magazine of North American diffusionism. I am asking the older question the magazine itself taught me to ask: if you know a period well, you are obligated to notice the silence around it. Why this map and not the larger one? Why this set of ancestors and not the ones standing in the next drainage? Absence from a journal is not the same thing as absence from the world. Spilled milk can disappear from the fossil record. That does not mean the glass was never full.

Canaan, Yahweh, and the Politics That Did Not Stay in the Ground

Once you have a good grip on what the excavators actually know about Canaan and the highlands of Israel, you can ask the question the field sometimes treats as bad manners: what kind of culture was already there when the Hebrew Bible says Yahweh told a people to go in?[10] I do not treat that command as a campfire exaggeration and I do not treat it as a modern war-crimes pamphlet. I treat it as politics in the older sense—the ordering of a people under a claim about who runs the unseen world.

The Bible is not embarrassed by a populated heaven. Psalm 82 puts God on his feet in a council of gods and tells them they are going to die like men. Deuteronomy 32, in the reading preserved by the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Septuagint, says the nations were parceled out according to the number of the sons of God, while Yahweh kept Israel as his own portion.[11] That is not a children’s story. That is a jurisdictional map. Babel is the administrative crisis that precedes the map. The conquest traditions are what the map looks like when it reaches the ground. You do not have to like the theology to see the structure. You only have to stop flattening the text until it resembles a modern committee.

This is the argument of the book I have been writing, The Politics of Heaven. Blood, loyalty, and throne-claims do not stay in one register. They move between temples, palaces, and the beings the temples were built to negotiate with. If that sounds speculative from the cheap seats, I would only note that the Bible itself is less shy about the subject than many of its professional interpreters.[12]

Eve, the Fruit, and a Remark I Have Not Been Able to Shake

Most of my readers do not leave public comments. They send texts. They send emails. They would rather be known by a sentence than by a handle. One of them said something I have been turning over ever since: Eve was the original Ayn Rand.

It is a mischievous line, and it is sharper than it first sounds. Rand was an atheist who treated knowledge as security. Eve reaches for the fruit she was told not to eat because the fruit promises the knowledge of good and evil—which is to say, it promises a kind of coverage. If I can see the whole field, I will not be surprised. If I cannot be surprised, I might not need to trust. The serpent’s pitch is not “become wicked.” The serpent’s pitch is “become independently briefed.” That is a political offer. It is also a religious one. The two are not different departments in Genesis.

There is good and evil. That part is not subtle. There is also the other tree, the one that did not get eaten, the one that has to do with eternal life. We were built for a purpose and we fell out of the purpose. Ever since, there has been a disorder in the world that would prefer the purpose stay fallen. The snakes are still in the catalog. They still talk. They still offer fruit at the expense of every Adam who thought he could manage the garden by intelligence alone.

I am not above a joke when I say that Jesus was crucified in the middle of that argument. I am thinking of Job, and of Satan telling the court that loyalty is only loyalty until the invoice arrives.[13] I am thinking of the wilderness, with the kingdoms of the world placed on a ridgeline and the offer to jump, to seize, to save himself. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me” is what it sounds like when a man refuses the offer and pays the price the offer was designed to avoid. If Eve reached for knowledge as security, the cross is the opposite transaction: knowledge of the worst thing, accepted without the security.

That is not a footnote to archaeology. It is the reason archaeology of the biblical world still matters to a person who also thinks about elections, companies, and the way a culture decides what it is allowed to notice. The past is not a museum. It is a set of unfinished negotiations.

How to Read a Magazine Without Becoming Its Disciple

The method is simple, and I commend it to anyone who is going to spend a night with BAR or with any other serious journal.

First, grant the labor. A published excavation is not a blog post. Treat it that way.

Second, separate the find from the frame. The wall is one fact. The paragraph that tells you what the wall “means for early Israelite state formation” is another fact, and a softer one.

Third, ask the aerospace question: can they spell the assumption without coughing? If the dating depends on a circular pottery sequence, say so. If the absence of evidence is doing the work of a conclusion, say so. If a whole continent has been ruled out because it would rearrange the lecture notes, say so.

Fourth, keep a second ledger for the questions the article makes possible and then declines to ask. Those questions are often the real harvest.

Fifth, take the night. Do not speed-read a civilization. The quiet is part of the instrument. A magazine like this is built for the hours when the house has stopped performing and a reader can finally hear himself think.

Why I Will Keep Subscribing

I can say the things I say about these topics because other people did the unglamorous work first. They published. I sat with what they published. Sometimes I said, that is not good enough. Sometimes I said, that changes the picture. Either way, the picture moved because they went into the ground.[14]

That is how you connect the past to the future without turning either into a costume. You learn a period until you can feel its joints. You watch what a people did when copper was wealth, when a temple was a government, when a scroll was a survival strategy. Then you look at your own shop floor, your own county, your own country, and you ask whether the same joints are moving.

If you have ever read The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, you already know I do not treat culture as decoration. Culture is the operating system. Archaeology is one of the few disciplines that lets you watch an operating system fail in slow motion and leave the wreckage where a later age can still touch it. That is why this magazine remains, for me, one of the best publications in the world. Not because it is always right. Because it keeps putting first-rate evidence in the hands of people who are willing to stay up with it.

My wife knew what kind of day I was having. She also knew the cure that would not insult the day by pretending it had been easy. She brought in the mail. She made the dumplings. She gave me the hours. It does not get any better than that.

Life is wonderful with or without the dumplings. It is more wonderful when the past arrives on the same plate. 

Notes

The numbered notes in the essay appear as footnotes on each page. The list below is a reading path, not a claim that every title agrees with me. A good bibliography should be a room you can walk around in, not a unanimous chorus.

A Working Bibliography for Further Reading

Biblical Archaeology Review and the Public Craft

Biblical Archaeology Society. Biblical Archaeology Review. Washington, D.C., 1975–present. https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/.

Cline, Eric H. “Larger Than Life.” Biblical Archaeology Society, February 8, 2021.

Shanks, Hershel, ed. Understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls. New York: Random House, 1992.

Shanks, Hershel. The Mystery and Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls. New York: Random House, 1998.

VanderKam, James C. The Dead Sea Scrolls Today. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010.

Collins, John J. The Dead Sea Scrolls: A Biography. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013.

Schiffman, Lawrence H. Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls. New York: Doubleday, 1995.

Magness, Jodi. The Archaeology of Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2021.

Canaan, Israel, Judah, and the Temples

Mazar, Amihai. Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, 10,000–586 B.C.E. New York: Doubleday, 1990.

Mazar, Amihai, and Ephraim Stern. Archaeology of the Land of the Bible. Vol. 2, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods. New York: Doubleday, 2001.

Dever, William G. What Did the Biblical Writers Know and When Did They Know It? Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001.

Dever, William G. Beyond the Texts: An Archaeological Portrait of Ancient Israel and Judah. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2017.

Finkelstein, Israel, and Neil Asher Silberman. The Bible Unearthed. New York: Free Press, 2001.

Finkelstein, Israel. The Forgotten Kingdom: The Archaeology and History of Northern Israel. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013.

Kitchen, K. A. On the Reliability of the Old Testament. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003.

Provan, Iain, V. Philips Long, and Tremper Longman III. A Biblical History of Israel. 2nd ed. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2015.

Rainey, Anson F., and R. Steven Notley. The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World. 2nd ed. Jerusalem: Carta, 2014.

Stern, Ephraim. Archaeology of the Land of the Bible. Vol. 2. New York: Doubleday, 2001.

Ussishkin, David. Biblical Lachish. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2014.

Mazar, Eilat. The Palace of King David. Jerusalem: Shoham, 2009.

Faust, Avraham. The Archaeology of Israelite Society in Iron Age II. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2012.

Killebrew, Ann E. Biblical Peoples and Ethnicity. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005.

Levy, Thomas E., ed. Historical Biblical Archaeology and the Future. London: Equinox, 2010.

Bronze Age Worlds, Collapse, and Trade

Cline, Eric H. 1177 B.C.: The Year Civilization Collapsed. Rev. ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2021.

Cline, Eric H. After 1177 B.C.: The Survival of Civilizations. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2024.

Tainter, Joseph A. The Collapse of Complex Societies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988.

Yoffee, Norman, and George L. Cowgill, eds. The Collapse of Ancient States and Civilizations. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1988.

Drews, Robert. The End of the Bronze Age. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993.

Broodbank, Cyprian. The Making of the Middle Sea. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013.

Kristiansen, Kristian, and Thomas B. Larsson. The Rise of Bronze Age Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.

Kristiansen, Kristian. “The Rise of Bronze Age Peripheries and the Expansion of International Trade.” In Trade and Civilisation, edited by Kristian Kristiansen, Thomas Lindkvist, and Janken Myrdal. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018.

Roberts, Benjamin W., and Christopher P. Thornton, eds. Archaeometallurgy in Global Perspective. New York: Springer, 2014.

Radivojević, Miljana, et al. “The Provenance, Use, and Circulation of Metals in the European Bronze Age.” Journal of Archaeological Research 27 (2019): 331–98.

Muhly, James D. Copper and Tin. Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1973.

Kassianidou, Vasiliki, and A. Bernard Knapp. “Archaeometallurgy in the Mediterranean.” In The Archaeology of Mediterranean Prehistory, edited by Emma Blake and A. Bernard Knapp. Oxford: Blackwell, 2005.

Great Lakes Copper, Stone, and the North American File

Pompeani, David P., et al. “On the Timing of the Old Copper Complex in the Keweenaw Peninsula and Isle Royale.” Radiocarbon, 2021.

Wade, Lizzie. “Great Lakes people among first coppersmiths.” Science 371, no. 6536 (2021): 1299.

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

Pleger, Thomas C. “A Brief Introduction to the Old Copper Complex of the Western Great Lakes.” The Wisconsin Archeologist 82 (2001).

O’Shea, John M., and Guy A. Meadows. “A 9,000-year-old caribou hunting structure beneath Lake Huron.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 111, no. 19 (2014): 6911–15.

Howey, Meghan C. L., et al. “Geospatial modeling approach to monument construction using Michigan from A.D. 1000–1600 as a case study.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 113, no. 29 (2016).

Griffin, James B. “The Late Prehistory of the Ohio Valley.” In Handbook of North American Indians, vol. 15. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian, 1978.

Cunningham, Wilbur M. A Study of the Glacial Kame Culture in Michigan, Ohio, and Indiana. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1948.

Squier, E. G., and E. H. Davis. Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian, 1848.

Fell, Barry. America B.C. New York: Quadrangle, 1976. Read as a document in the history of a controversy, not as a closed case.

Feder, Kenneth L. Frauds, Myths, and Mysteries. 10th ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2020. The standard skeptical counterweight.

Midgley, Magdalena S. The Megaliths of Northern Europe. London: Routledge, 2008.

Divine Council, Genesis, and the Unseen Politics of Scripture

Heiser, Michael S. The Unseen Realm: Recovering the Supernatural Worldview of the Bible. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015.

Heiser, Michael S. “Deuteronomy 32:8 and the Sons of God.” Bibliotheca Sacra 158 (2001): 52–74.

Heiser, Michael S. “Divine Council.” In Lexham Bible Dictionary, edited by John D. Barry et al. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012.

Smith, Mark S. The Origins of Biblical Monotheism. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001.

Smith, Mark S. The Early History of God. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002.

Day, John. Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses of Canaan. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000.

Mullen, E. Theodore, Jr. The Divine Council in Canaanite and Early Hebrew Literature. Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980.

Boyd, Gregory A. God at War. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1997.

Walton, John H. The Lost World of Genesis One. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2009.

Walton, John H. Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018.

Sarna, Nahum M. Understanding Genesis. New York: Schocken, 1966.

Alter, Robert. The Five Books of Moses. New York: Norton, 2004.

Levenson, Jon D. Creation and the Persistence of Evil. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994.

Pagels, Elaine. The Origin of Satan. New York: Random House, 1995.

Wright, N. T. Jesus and the Victory of God. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996.

Wright, N. T. The Resurrection of the Son of God. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003.

Culture, Business, and Why the Past Still Issues Orders

Hoffman, Rich. The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business. Author’s edition.

Hoffman, Rich. The Politics of Heaven. Forthcoming.

Ohno, Taiichi. Toyota Production System. New York: Productivity Press, 1988.

Schein, Edgar H. Organizational Culture and Leadership. 5th ed. Hoboken: Wiley, 2017.

Girard, René. Violence and the Sacred. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977.

Girard, René. I See Satan Fall Like Lightning. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2001.

Voegelin, Eric. Order and History. 5 vols. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1956–1987.

Eliade, Mircea. The Sacred and the Profane. New York: Harcourt, 1959.

Bellah, Robert N. Religion in Human Evolution. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011.

Scott, James C. Against the Grain. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2017.

Graeber, David, and David Wengrow. The Dawn of Everything. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2021.

Jordan, the East Bank, and the Neighbors the Text Will Not Leave Alone

MacDonald, Burton. East of the Jordan: Territories and Sites of the Hebrew Scriptures. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2000.

Bienkowski, Piotr, ed. Early Edom and Moab. Sheffield: J. R. Collis, 1992.

Dearman, J. Andrew, ed. Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989.

Routledge, Bruce. Moab in the Iron Age. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004.

Herr, Larry G., and Douglas R. Clark. “Madaba Plains Project.” Multiple season reports in Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan.

Savage, Stephen H., and Steven E. Falconer. “Spatial and Temporal Trends in Levantine Settlement.” Journal of Archaeological Science, various.

A note on method. I have not required the bibliography to agree with me, and I have not required myself to agree with the bibliography. That is the same rule I bring to Biblical Archaeology Review. Read the people who dug. Read the people who doubt the people who dug. Then keep the night watch and decide which assumptions still refuse to be spelled.

[1] Biblical Archaeology Review (ISSN 0098-9444) has been published by the Biblical Archaeology Society since March 1975. The magazine is presently issued quarterly. See “About Biblical Archaeology Review,” Biblical Archaeology Society, https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/magazines/.

[2] Hershel Shanks (1930–2021), a Washington lawyer turned editor, founded the Biblical Archaeology Society in 1974 and launched BAR in March 1975. He remained editor-in-chief until 2018. See Eric H. Cline, “Larger Than Life,” Biblical Archaeology Society, February 8, 2021; and “Setting the BAR,” Biblical Archaeology Society, 2025.

[3] The 5 Whys method is associated with Taiichi Ohno and the Toyota Production System. It is a root-cause drill: ask “why” until the chain of causation is exposed. In aerospace and other high-reliability cultures the same spirit appears as assumption-busting reviews, red teams, and formal failure analysis. See Taiichi Ohno, Toyota Production System (New York: Productivity Press, 1988).

[4] On the Dead Sea Scrolls as a window into Second Temple belief, see James C. VanderKam, The Dead Sea Scrolls Today, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010); and Hershel Shanks, ed., Understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Random House, 1992).

[5] On collapse and regeneration as a comparative problem, see Joseph A. Tainter, The Collapse of Complex Societies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988); Eric H. Cline, 1177 B.C.: The Year Civilization Collapsed, rev. ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2021); and Norman Yoffee and George L. Cowgill, eds., The Collapse of Ancient States and Civilizations (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1988).

[6] David P. Pompeani et al., “On the Timing of the Old Copper Complex in the Keweenaw Peninsula and Isle Royale,” Radiocarbon (2021); and Lizzie Wade, “Great Lakes people among first coppersmiths,” Science 371, no. 6536 (2021): 1299. Sediment and radiocarbon work now places intensive Great Lakes copper working as early as ca. 9500 years ago, peaking roughly 7000–5000 years ago.

[7] The hypothesis that Lake Superior native copper supplied Bronze Age Europe remains outside the archaeological consensus. Mainstream syntheses locate European copper in Alpine, Iberian, Balkan, Cypriot, and British Isles sources. See Benjamin W. Roberts and Christopher P. Thornton, eds., Archaeometallurgy in Global Perspective (New York: Springer, 2014); and “The Provenance, Use, and Circulation of Metals in the European Bronze Age,” Journal of Archaeological Research 27 (2019). I record the disagreement rather than pretend it does not exist.

[8] On European and Levantine dolmens, see Magdalena S. Midgley, The Megaliths of Northern Europe (London: Routledge, 2008); and James L. Swauger, work on petroforms and stone constructions in the Upper Great Lakes. Geologists commonly classify northern Michigan capstone-and-pedestal arrangements as glacial erratics. I do not find that explanation sufficient for every specimen.

[9] John M. O’Shea and Guy A. Meadows, “A 9,000-year-old caribou hunting structure beneath Lake Huron,” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 111, no. 19 (2014): 6911–15. The Alpena-Amberley Ridge drive lanes are a reminder that stone work in the Great Lakes is not exhausted by the glacial-dumping story.

[10] On the archaeology of Canaan, Israel, and Judah in the Iron Age, standard entry points include Amihai Mazar, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, 10,000–586 B.C.E. (New York: Doubleday, 1990); Israel Finkelstein and Neil Asher Silberman, The Bible Unearthed (New York: Free Press, 2001); and William G. Dever, What Did the Biblical Writers Know and When Did They Know It? (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001). I read all three and do not baptize any of them.

[11] Michael S. Heiser, The Unseen Realm: Recovering the Supernatural Worldview of the Bible (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015); and Heiser, “Deuteronomy 32:8 and the Sons of God,” Bibliotheca Sacra 158 (2001): 52–74. The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Septuagint support “sons of God” rather than “sons of Israel” at Deuteronomy 32:8.

[12] Rich Hoffman, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business (author’s edition); and Hoffman, The Politics of Heaven (forthcoming). Related essays appear at overmanwarrior.wordpress.com.

[13] Job 1–2; Luke 4:1–13; Matthew 4:1–11. The Accuser’s wager in Job and the wilderness temptations of Jesus are two scenes in the same political drama: a claim on loyalty, tested under pressure, with the kingdoms of the world placed on the table.

[14] Biblical Archaeology Society All-Access membership presently includes the print magazine, the digital BAS Library (every issue of BAR since 1975, plus Bible Review and Archaeology Odyssey), lecture video, and curated collections. See https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

Don’t Sour the Wine: Why Public Lectures from a County GOP Chair Push Officeholders Away, make Democrats happy, and Shrink the Tent We Want to Grow

It is hard to be in a leadership position. I know that. I wanted to wish the new chair of the Butler County Republican Party well. Art Sauerwein stepped into a job that is mostly thankless, always public, and never as simple as it sounds when you are talking to yourself in the bathroom mirror.¹ I have worked with people in this orbit. We have agreed on more than we have fought about. I was not looking to pick a fight with a brand-new chairman. Bloodsport politics is already crowded with people who think volume is a substitute for skill.

But people are already getting sour on his wine. This is not the pleasant kind. This is the vintage you spit out when you realize the bottle lacks what it takes. Sauerwein literally means sour wine.² I did not invent the metaphor. The paper did him the courtesy of putting the raw vintage on the table.

I want the Republican Party in this county to succeed. I do not want the political disease that has been cultivated in parts of West Chester to migrate township by township until the rest of Butler County starts talking like a faculty lounge. I want more unification, not less. I want a bigger tent, not a Sunday-school classroom with a padlock on the door. That is why I am saying something now, at the start of September 2026, while the article is still warm and the Democrats are still salivating.

What Sounded Fine in the Shower Did Not Survive the Newspaper

Some lines sound terrific when you are singing in the shower. They still sound pretty good at a Sunday meeting among people who already agree with you. They do not survive contact with newsprint. Once they are in the Journal-News, they belong to every Democrat, every fence-sitter, every officeholder you still need next cycle, and every volunteer who is privately deciding whether this job is worth the abuse.

The chairman’s public message, as it landed, ran something like this: take back the schools and make them more conservative; put more Christian values in the community; and, most of all, the Republicans already in office need to learn to cut spending and cut taxes, eliminate waste and fraud, and get in alignment with conservative values. Then the kicker: he has not been seeing that happen, and it displeases him.

I agree with a large percentage of the substance. Cutting spending, cutting taxes, reducing waste, and stopping fraud are not radical demands in a Republican county. I have been in the tax fight in this county for a long time, going back through names people still remember and some they would rather forget. I want conservative schools. I am not embarrassed by Christian values in a community that was built on them. That is not the argument.

The argument is tone, timing, venue, and target. You do not build a governing party by taking out the people you just spent years getting elected. You especially do not do it two months before a midterm when Democrats are hunting local gains and the only story they need is “Republicans are already eating their own.”

The Fast-Food Manager Problem in Bloodsport Politics

I have heard this voice before. It usually comes from people who have a hard time making a legitimate argument that requires sitting down, listening, and converting someone who does not already attend their Bible study to their way of thinking. Instead of doing that work, they reach for the lecture. I have seen it in entry-level managers at places that sell fast food. They get handed a shift. They have run something with five employees. They discover that barking feels like leadership.

You can talk that way to teenagers folding boxes. You cannot talk that way to people you are asking to put their name on a ballot, raise money, take votes, absorb the hate mail, and then run again in two years. Public office is already a faithless job. If word gets out that the chairman treats officeholders like children who missed curfew, the short list of people willing to do the work gets shorter. Then you will complain that nobody good will run, and you will be right, and you will have helped cause it.

The grandfather tone does not work on people who already moved out of their father’s house.  Younger Republicans, the ones you claim you want to recruit so the party is not a retirement home, can smell a lecture from across the parking lot. Trump did not build a coalition by scolding his own team in the local paper. He built one by pointing the fire outward.

Good Old Boys, Street Vendors, and the Nicodemus Problem

I have heard the comments on Facebook. People send me this stuff all day. “Good old boys club.” It is always the boys club when you are not in it. When you are outside, you throw a rock and call it prophecy. You say you are Jesus turning over the tables of the money changers. You say you are honest and pure. Meanwhile the people you need are quietly updating their résumés for a private-sector job that pays better and does not include a chairman who inspects their homework in the newspaper.

You have to remember Nicodemus. He loved Jesus. He wanted the message to advance. He also had to remain a functioning member of the priesthood. He walked a fine line on purpose.³ That is the nature of serious politics. It should not be a purity cult. I have heard the purity speech for years: we should be clean, we should be absolute, we should never sit at a table with anyone who is only 80 percent of the way home. Meanwhile you bleed support. You try to build a big party and then you shove people toward the door with absolutism and call the ones who leave compromised.

Cheerleaders are useful. Rock throwers are useful too, in the right hour. Leadership is deciding which tool you are holding before you swing it at your own team.

David Kern Knew How to Throw a Rock and Still Keep the Township

I have known the Kern family since I was very little. I was friends with his son. I knew Katy. I remember David Kern as a man who could throw a rock with the best of them and still serve as a respected Liberty Township trustee for decades. He chaired this county party. He also discovered, the hard way, that herding quarreling Republicans is a different sport than fighting Democrats.⁴ He said as much when he walked away from the chairmanship. That history is sitting right there for anyone who wants to read it instead of repeating it.

You need people who will volunteer for the ugly jobs. The short list of adults willing to be lectured in public like children is very short. You do not want your officeholders saying, “I will take the private job. It pays. I do not have to run every two years. I do not have to take a sermon from a chairman who just discovered the budget.” Once they leave, you do not get them back by posting harder.

West Chester Is Not a Metaphor. It Is a Beachhead.

I know Kathy Wyenandt. I have watched her work. She is out there trying to hitch a truck and a horse to the same socialist push that is running through school boards, township halls, and every other local institution that used to be too boring for ideology. Call it progressivism if the word socialism makes the room cough. The destination is the same: more government, more cultural renovation, more migration of West Chester habits into townships that did not ask for them.⁵

She does not need a majority tomorrow. She needs Republicans to do her turnout work for her. A county party that announces, in the paper, that its own officeholders have disappointed the chairman is a gift. Democrats do not have to beat Republicans if Republicans will brand their own people as failures eight weeks before Election Day. I do not want a bunch of Democrats in offices that took a generation to flip. That is not a purity position. That is arithmetic.

The people pushing the chairman to talk like this represent a slice of the party, not the whole vineyard. I would put that slice well under 40 percent of Republicans in this county, with the rest on the fence, tired, transactional, or capable of being seduced by a smiling Democrat who promises to be less exhausting. If you lecture the 60 percent as if they were the problem, you will meet them later on the other side of the aisle, or at home on the couch.

You Cannot Shut Off a County Budget Like a Spigot

“The Republicans that are in office need to learn to cut spending and cut taxes, and I have not been seeing that happen, and it displeases me.” That sentence is the whole problem in one pour. You cannot just turn the spigot off on a dime. I have been in these tax fights my whole adult life. There were plenty of pizzas eaten over tables with Mike Fox and the old Liberty Township crowd. There were plenty of arguments. You still had to build a team.⁶

County government is not a lemonade stand. It is labor contracts, state mandates, jails, boards of developmental disabilities, roads, courts, and a sales-tax stream that moves with the economy. Butler County has rolled back millage, sat on windfalls, and still gets accused of betrayal because the cut was not theatrical enough for people who do their budgeting in comment threads. Results matter. Theater is cheaper. Voters, after two years of Republicans in power, vote results. If the chairman’s public line is “our people have not done a very good job,” do not be shocked when the other team puts that quote on a mailer.

This is the midterm problem in miniature. The buzzwords that pulled people to the polls the first time do not work the same way once you own the desks. Insurgents always arrive to take advantage of disappointment. Some of them only know how to throw rocks. They want Jesus in the temple every Tuesday. If you are not flipping tables, you are not holy enough. That energy can win a primary. It does not automatically win a county, and it does not automatically govern one.

Todd Hall, Thomas Hall, and the Unfashionable Work of Building a Team

Todd Hall was good at building a team. Thomas Hall has done the unglamorous work in the Statehouse. I have had disagreements with people in that circle. There were disputes. We worked them out over time. Nobody has to be attached at the hip. Leadership is the art of bringing people to your way of thinking without setting their chairs on fire.⁷

People who lack that skill often lecture because lecture is what you do when you cannot close. They talk themselves into a lather in the bathroom. It sounds like Churchill. Then they get into a meeting with actual officeholders, actual budgets, and actual voters, and the words come out like a substitute teacher on the last day of school. “It displeases me” is not a governing strategy. It is a report card written by someone who is not taking the test.

Sometimes a chairman will sound like the star quarterback at a pep rally. In the bleachers you will have a row of people who never liked football and came for the argument. The quarterback will look like a cardboard cutout of the good old boys club. Fine. People still like winning the game. They like being around a team that wins. They will tolerate a certain amount of jock energy if the scoreboard gives them what they want. They will not tolerate a coach who spends the pregame interview explaining that his own starters are a disappointment.

Unity Is Not Compromise. Isolation Is Not Courage.

I do not want a compromised party. I also do not want a minority party that congratulates itself for being pure while Kathy’s people take another township seat. Those are not the only two options, no matter how many Facebook theologians insist they are. Learning to communicate with people who are not as conservative as a Sunday-morning Sunday-school teacher is not the same thing as becoming one of them. It means you can share a sandbox without eating the sand.

People who cannot do that work are often insecure about their ability to win a conversation. So they push the other person away. Then they never have to experience the small death of losing the argument. They say, “We did our best. We stood on principle. We were outnumbered.” Being outnumbered is not a sacrament. I do not want the minority party in Butler County. I want the party that keeps winning and then governs like it intended to keep the job.

Compromise has a cost. Losing has a cost. Leadership is weighing those two costs in public without pretending one of them is free. Thanksgiving dinner is the annual clinic: you do not have to agree on the football game to keep the same people at the table. A smart network puts more than one game on. That is not cowardice. That is how you still have a family next year.

A Friendly Note to the New Chairman

I want Art Sauerwein to be a successful chairman. I want people to support him. I want the party to grow. I agree with him on most of the policy nouns in that article. Cut spending. Cut taxes. Watch the schools. Say the quiet part about values out loud. Do it in a room with the officeholders first. Bring the concerns to a meeting. Make the case. Count votes. Help them find the money, the language, and the coalition. Then go to the paper together.

If you push them away in August, you will not have them in November, and you will not have them when you need a candidate in 2028. Chairmen who listen only to the people who want them to tear the party down do not last. The job looks important from the outside. From the inside it is volunteer hours, bruised egos, and a phone that rings with problems nobody else wanted. You will not keep good people if the public posture is “Father Knows Best and the children have disappointed the table.”

Help them get elected. Help them get money. Help them get on the slate card. Show up for them when the Journal-News calls. Save the lecture for the closed session, and even then, make it a conversation. The people who are whispering that the only moral posture is table-flipping are not the ones who will still be in the room when the chairs are empty.

Tomorrow Can Still Be a Better Day

It is hard to be in leadership in all phases. It is hard when people will not come over to your way of seeing the field. You still have to try. You have to bring together people who would never choose the same dinner table if football were not on. You have to give people latitude without becoming a wet rag. That is the whole craft.

So here is the friendly advice, based on what I am seeing in the first weeks of this chairmanship: do not sour the wine. Do not sour the voters. Do not sour the big tent. Do not push away the people who are not as conservative as you wish they were on a Sunday morning. Sit down. Work it out. Inspect the team in private. Cheer the team in public. I want this chairman to prosper. I want this party to keep the county. Lecturing your own officeholders in the newspaper is how you do the Democrats’ work for them.

Notes

1.  Art Sauerwein quoted in late-August 2026 Journal-News coverage of Butler County politics heading into the November 2026 midterms. The phrasing matches public circulation of the piece under titles such as “Republicans defend Butler County Ohio stronghold as Democrats seek local gains this fall.”

2.  Sauerwein is a German occupational/descriptive surname meaning “sour wine,” historically attached to makers or sellers of tart wine. The pun writes itself; I did not invent the vintage.

3.  John 3:1–21. Nicodemus, a Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin, came to Jesus by night. He later spoke for due process (John 7:50–51) and helped bury Jesus (John 19:39–40). He never became a street-corner prophet. That is the point.

4.  David Kern served 32 years as a Liberty Township trustee, briefly chaired the Butler County Republican Party, and died in 2021. See Journal-News obituary coverage and the Congressional Record tribute by Rep. Warren Davidson, April 22, 2021.

5.  Kathy D. Wyenandt of Liberty/Fairfield Township has been central committee chair and a visible public face of the Butler County Democratic Party, a Board of Elections member, and a candidate for Ohio House and Senate. She has written openly urging voters to consider Democrats in local cycles.

6.  Butler County commissioners have repeatedly used inside-millage rollbacks and related tools in recent budget cycles; sales-tax receipts have also risen. Whether that pace satisfies every activist is a separate question from whether the county is “not cutting.” See Journal-News budget coverage 2024–2026.

7.  Todd Hall served as Butler County GOP executive chairman through the 2024–2026 cycle and was frequently quoted on endorsements, including the 2026 commissioner primary. State Rep. Thomas Hall represents Ohio House District 46.

8.  Richard K. Jones, Butler County sheriff, published They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America (2026). The book is a leadership memoir, not a novel about cartels; the shower version of the pitch always sounds punchier than the jacket copy.

Bibliography for Further Reading

A working shelf, not a complete library. I have included the books that actually change how you think about parties, persuasion, local government, and the temptation to confuse purity with power.

Local and Ohio Politics

Butler County Republican Party. Candidate and leadership materials, butlercountygop.org, 2024–2026.

Callahan, Denise G., and Journal-News staff. Budget, millage, sales-tax, and commissioner coverage, Hamilton Journal-News, 2018–2026.

Clark, Michael D. “Beloved Butler County icon, political leader David Kern dies after illness.” Journal-News, April 16, 2021.

Davidson, Warren. “Honoring the Life and Memory of David Kern.” Congressional Record, April 22, 2021.

Ohio Republican Party. County chair directory and State Central Committee materials, ohiogop.org.

Wyenandt, Kathy. “You may want to vote Democrat this election cycle.” Cincinnati Enquirer, June 15, 2022.

Journal-News. “Republicans defend Butler County Ohio stronghold as Democrats seek local gains this fall.” Late August 2026. (Article circulating with the Sauerwein quotations discussed here.)

Parties, Coalitions, and the Big Tent

Burke, Edmund. Reflections on the Revolution in France. 1790. Still the best warning against people who love principles more than the society those principles have to live in.

Downs, Anthony. An Economic Theory of Democracy. Harper, 1957.

Fiorina, Morris P. Retrospective Voting in American National Elections. Yale University Press, 1981.

Galston, William A., and Elaine C. Kamarck. “The Politics of Polarization.” Third Way / Brookings essays, various years.

Hazlitt, Henry. Economics in One Lesson. Harper, 1946.

Kirk, Russell. The Conservative Mind. Regnery, 1953.

Laver, Michael, and Norman Schofield. Multiparty Government: The Politics of Coalition in Europe. Oxford University Press, 1990. Useful even for a two-party county: coalition is a skill.

Riker, William H. The Theory of Political Coalitions. Yale University Press, 1962.

Skocpol, Theda, and Vanessa Williamson. The Tea Party and the Remaking of Republican Conservatism. Oxford University Press, 2012.

Truman, David B. The Governmental Process. Knopf, 1951.

Leadership, Management, and Why Lectures Fail

Carnegie, Dale. How to Win Friends and Influence People. Simon & Schuster, 1936. Mock it after you can do it.

Clausewitz, Carl von. On War. 1832. Politics is the continuation of coalition by other means.

Collins, Jim. Good to Great. HarperBusiness, 2001.

Drucker, Peter F. The Effective Executive. Harper & Row, 1967.

Hoffman, Rich. The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business: A Skeleton Key to Western Civilization. Liberty Hill Publishing, 2021.

Hoffman, Rich. The Symposium of Justice. Overman Warrior Publications.

Jones, Richard K. They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America. 2026.

Lencioni, Patrick. The Five Dysfunctions of a Team. Jossey-Bass, 2002.

Machiavelli, Niccolò. The Prince. 1532. Read it as a warning about what happens when your own captains stop trusting you.

Musashi, Miyamoto. The Book of Five Rings. c. 1645.

Ohno, Taiichi. Toyota Production System. Productivity Press, 1988. You cannot lecture a production system into existence.

Sun Tzu. The Art of War. Do not announce your disappointment with your own left flank.

Lao Tzu. Tao Te Ching. The leader who needs to be seen lecturing is already losing.

Rhetoric, Media, and the Local Paper Problem

Ellul, Jacques. Propaganda. Knopf, 1965.

McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media. McGraw-Hill, 1964.

Orwell, George. “Politics and the English Language.” Horizon, 1946.

Postman, Neil. Amusing Ourselves to Death. Viking, 1985.

Weaver, Richard M. The Ethics of Rhetoric. Henry Regnery, 1953.

Scripture and the Fine Line

The Gospel of John, chapters 3, 7, and 19. Nicodemus.

Matthew 21:12–13 and parallels. The temple tables. Note the target: a corrupt marketplace inside the holy precinct, not your own disciples on the night before a fight.

Augustine. City of God. The two cities argument is older than any county central committee.

Niebuhr, Reinhold. Moral Man and Immoral Society. Scribner, 1932.

Lewis, C. S. The Screwtape Letters. 1942. Especially the parts about factions inside the church.

American Party History and Populism

Gerring, John. Party Ideologies in America, 1828–1996. Cambridge University Press, 1998.

Hofstadter, Richard. The Age of Reform. Knopf, 1955.

Hofstadter, Richard. The Paranoid Style in American Politics. Knopf, 1965.

Phillips, Kevin. The Emerging Republican Majority. Arlington House, 1969.

Rauch, Jonathan. Political Realism. Brookings, 2015. Parties exist to tame factions. When the faction tames the party, you get what you are watching.

Schattschneider, E. E. The Semisovereign People. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1960.

Sundquist, James L. Dynamics of the Party System. Brookings, 1983.

Local Government, Taxes, and the Spigot That Will Not Shut

Fisher, Ronald C. State and Local Public Finance. Various editions.

Oates, Wallace E. Fiscal Federalism. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972.

Tiebout, Charles M. “A Pure Theory of Local Expenditures.” Journal of Political Economy 64 (1956).

Ohio Auditor of State and Butler County Auditor annual financial reports, 2022–2026.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

Spilled Milk on the Ocean Floor: Atlantis Claims, Lake Superior Copper, Florida’s Windover People, and the Stones Japan Still Will Not Study

I keep a simple picture in my head when the latest Atlantis headline floats across X. It is two o’clock in the morning. I am half asleep. I pull a carton of milk from the refrigerator and drop it. I do not want the house waking up to a white lake on the kitchen floor, so I wipe it, wring the paper towels, bag the evidence, and go back to bed. In the morning, the carton is lighter. The floor is dry. Somebody who was not there will tell you nothing happened, because the proof is already in the trash.

That is how I think about the deep past before three thousand BC. Not as a license to invent temples on every seamount. As a warning. Time is a very good janitor. Volcanoes are better. Rising seas are better still. Official narratives can be lazy without being a conspiracy. And wanting Atlantis so badly that every sonar blob becomes a ziggurat is how you end up mopping the floor with the carton still in your hand.

Plato is fascinating. I will not pretend otherwise.[1] The story that survives is already a story about a story: Egyptian priests, Solon, a vanished island beyond the Pillars of Hercules, a people who got proud and were erased in a day and a night. By the time Plato wrote it down, the alleged events were already older than the gap between Charlemagne and us. If that culture ever existed as a place, not only as a parable, the milk has had a long time to dry.

Underwater Pyramids Off the Azores and Why Portugal Said Volcano

Every few months the same pictures recirculate: a fisherman’s depth sounder off Terceira, a hard-edged pyramid, cardinal alignment, breathless talk that the Portuguese Hydrographic Institute is about to rewrite the Bronze Age. I have watched that clip move around X the way a rumor moves around a small town. It feels new because the algorithm is hungry. It is not new.

In 2013, Diocleciano Silva reported a structure roughly sixty meters high between Terceira and São Miguel. Television loved the silhouette. The Instituto Hidrográfico did what a hydrographic institute is paid to do. It pulled existing high-resolution bathymetry from 2009 and compared it with the reported coordinates. At the spot in question, the seafloor sat on the order of five hundred forty meters down. There was a submarine rise, the kind the Azores manufacture by the dozen. There was not an artificial pyramid whose apex grazed forty meters of water.[2]

The feature sits on Dom João de Castro Bank, a named, charted, still-gassy submarine volcano. In December 1720 it built an island a mile and a half long and then gave it back to the Atlantic. Fishermen still work the bank because fish like the edges of old fire. If you ping that slope with a cheap sounder, geometry will lie to you. Volcanic edifices make faces. People hunting Atlantis will see a face.[3]

I am not sneering at the hunger. I am saying the official answer in this particular case was not laziness. It was a navy map. The spilled-milk problem is real. So is pareidolia. You can see what you want to see, but at least they are looking. 

The So-Called Sunken City Off Cuba

Then there is Cuba, which I find more interesting than the Azores pyramid precisely because it never quite died and never quite lived. In 2000 and 2001, a Canadian-Cuban survey team hunting colonial wrecks off the Guanahacabibes Peninsula, Pinar del Río, dragged side-scan sonar across a plateau six hundred to seven hundred fifty meters down and came home with images that looked like streets, blocks, and pyramids.

Paul Weinzweig said the organization was too much for geology. Video from a remotely operated vehicle showed smooth blocks, some stacked, some isolated, some vaguely pyramidal. Newspapers in Toronto and Sydney ran the story as a possible six-thousand-year-old city. Twenty-five years later we still do not have a crate of cut stone on a Havana dock. We do not have inscriptions. We do not have a hearth. We have sonar and a few hours of tape.[4]

Manuel Iturralde, a serious Cuban geologist who was on that expedition, said the shapes were unusual and that nature is richer than our textbooks. He also said that putting a built city at that depth would push the timeline back by about fifty thousand years, which is a problem if you are trying to hang the site on Maya cousins or on Plato’s calendar. The plateau sits on a faulted, mud-volcano-type seafloor. Linear ridges happen. Cubes of rock happen. Wishful enhancement of sonar prints happens even faster.[5]

Would I be shocked if something old turned up on the Cuban shelf in water a human diver can actually work? No. The Gulf, the Mississippi mouth, the Yucatán, and the old Olmec and Maya heartland are a single neighborhood if you think in rivers instead of passports. A site at two thousand feet is a different animal. That is not an Ice Age shoreline. That is a geological basement. If someone finally dredges a tool from those blocks, I will read the paper twice. Until then, it is a wet paper towel with a pyramid printed on it. The failure lies in the assumption that such a culture would be connected to the Maya, when in truth the Maya are probably connected to even older, undiscovered cultures.  Just to the north, off the coast of Florida, there is plenty of evidence of old Archaic-period civilizations predating the Maya by a lot. 

Lost City Is Real, and It Is Not Atlantis

The Atlantic does have a Lost City. Scientists named it that on purpose, which has been a gift to every thumbnail on the internet. It sits on the Atlantis Massif, which is another gift. It is a field of pale carbonate chimneys, some as tall as a building, venting warm, caustic water loaded with hydrogen and methane. Life down there does not wait on sunlight. It eats chemistry.

Lost City is not a ruin. It is serpentinization: seawater chewing through mantle rock, generating heat and simple molecules, and precipitating limestone towers for tens of thousands of years. In 2023, a drill ship bored a hole 1,268 meters into the massif, a short way north of the field, and recovered fluids that resemble the hidden plumbing of those vents. That is a beautiful discovery. It tells you how a world without photosynthesis can still set a table. It does not give you a palace wall.[6][7]

I mention this because the algorithm will keep marrying three different Atlantics: a Portuguese volcano, a Cuban sonar grid, and an alkaline spring with weird microbes. They are not the same story. Mixing them is how you spill the milk and then swear the stain is a floor plan.

Windover, Florida, and What 8,000 Years Actually Looks Like

If you want people who were organized before the classroom poster suggests, you do not have to drown in the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. You can drive to Titusville, a few miles from where rockets now leave the planet, and stand near a pond that used to be a cemetery.

In 1982, a backhoe operator named Steve Vanderjagt was clearing muck for the Windover Farms subdivision and picked up what he thought was a round rock. Florida does not have round rocks. The rock looked back. Archaeologists eventually lifted at least 168 people from that peat. The pond had held them for seven to eight thousand years. Ninety-one skulls still had brain tissue. Bodies had been staked under poles and wrapped in the oldest woven cloth yet found in North America. A bottle gourd in one burial dated to about 7,290 radiocarbon years. Stomach contents still contained fish and berries.[8]

That is not a rumor from a yellowed county weekly. That is a National Historic Landmark. Those people were tall for their world, careful with their dead, oriented in space, and capable of textiles that take patience and a mind that plans. I have heard the beer-and-severed-heads version of this story attached to Windover. The beer belongs more honestly to places like Göbekli Tepe, where limestone troughs the size of a bathtub bear chemical traces of fermented cereal from around the tenth millennium BC. Windover gives you cloth, gourds, and a cemetery that was used long enough for families to keep coming back. That is already enough to puncture the cartoon of the wandering simpleton who only learned civilization when somebody from the Near East arrived with a lecture.

Göbekli Tepe matters to this argument even though it sits in Turkey, not Brevard County. Hunter-gatherers cut T-shaped pillars, gathered in numbers, and almost certainly threw feasts. The brewing case is not locked, but calcium oxalate in those troughs is the kind of stain you are allowed to take seriously.[9]

Put Windover next to that, and the pattern is not “Atlantis built Florida.” The pattern is that the centuries before Abraham, before Moses, before the first Hebrew sojourn stories, were already crowded with people who knew how to gather, bury, weave, ferment, and move. The promised land was not the first place on earth where a mind woke up.

Lake Superior Copper and the Question Europe Does Not Want to Finish

Now the metal. Around Lake Superior, on the Keweenaw and on Isle Royale, people hammered native copper into points, knives, and axes when much of the world was still arguing with stone. This is the Old Copper Complex. It is not a campfire story. Museum drawers in Milwaukee are heavy with it.

The dates keep getting older. Mining signatures in lake mud and dates on artifacts now push copper working in that country back toward 9,500 years ago, with a long peak in the Middle Archaic. Somebody spent thousands of hours of labor pulling metal out of pits and glacial float. Then, in a twist that still bothers experimental archaeologists, many of those big utilitarian tools fade away, and copper becomes jewelry and a marker of status. Why walk away from a technology that worked? That is a real question. It does not require Phoenician supervisors.[10][11]

I tend to think some of that copper moved farther than the textbooks like. I think island-hopping along a colder Atlantic, with sea levels lower and the English Channel a valley instead of a ditch, is not science fiction. I think later Mediterranean sailors were less provincial than modern departments. I think stories about orichalcum — that shining mix people hang on Atlantis — are the kind of folklore you get when a culture remembers a metal it can no longer find.

Here is the part I will not fake for color. Most analyzed European Bronze Age copper provenances point to Cyprus, the Alps, Iberia, Britain, Slovakia, Tuscany. Lead isotopes are a jealous witness. They are good at saying where a metal did not come from. A handful of papers and popular lectures have claimed a Superior fingerprint in this or that European object. The sample sizes are small. The replications are not sitting on my desk. The honest sentence is that the trade route I like is still a hypothesis with a motive, not a cargo list.[12]

Absence of a Bronze Age hull on the floor of Lake Huron is not proof the hull never existed. Organic ships in cold, oxygenated water become rumors. Bronze becomes a green stain and then a rumor. That is spilled milk. It is also why I will not pound the table and tell a room that Veneti captains were loading Keweenaw ingots in 2000 BC. I will say this: people who could bury their dead in a Florida pond with woven shrouds, and people who could mine Isle Royale until the lake mud recorded the smoke, were not waiting around for Columbus to invent curiosity.

Dolmens, Glacial Erratics, and the Ohio Habit of Calling Everything a Rock

I live in a state that is one long argument between ice and memory. Ohio has earthworks that are mathematical whether a tourist wants them to be or not. Serpent Mound deserves the kind of approach road Stonehenge finally received, not a shrug. Down the Mississippi and into the Ohio Valley, you can feel a society that thought in ridges, solstices, and labor. Similar appetites show up in the Amazon and in Mesoamerica long before the Aztec brand name. Olmec roots run deeper than the postcard.

New England has stone chambers and propped boulders that some call dolmens and some call glaciers having a sense of humor. I have heard the accidental-geology sermon. I have also walked enough country to distrust a sermon that always ends with “stop looking.” Some of those features will stay glacial. Some will not. The spilled-milk move is to classify the whole drawer as ice so nobody has to catalog the odd ones.

Giants belong in this paragraph only as a warning. Ohio papers, including the counties around Miamisburg and Liberty Township, printed skeleton stories for a century: extra teeth, impossible stature, boxes of bones that went to a museum and then to a fog. I have been reading in that literature. Some of it is folklore with a ruler attached. Some of it may be mismeasured burials and nineteenth-century salesmanship. A six-foot-three sailor on a modern wreck is not an eight-foot race. If you want me to believe a different human type walked the Miami Valley, bring a bone that is still in a drawer with a number on it. Do not bring a clipping and a vibe.   But also, don’t say it didn’t exist because you gave the bones bag through NAGPRA to an Indian tribe that was not directly connected to the recovered bones.  What about the Mooneyed people the Cherokee eradicated when they moved into the area?  Were the Mooneyed people the real indigenous ones?  Who were they and where did they come from? 

The clippings exist. That is nothing. It is also not a species.[13]

Ishi-no-Hoden, the Keyhole Tombs, and a Fountain by the Warehouses

The site that rearranged my patience sits south of Kobe, in Takasago, on the grounds of Ōshiko Jinja. Locals and travelers call it Ishi-no-Hoden, the Stone Treasure Hall. It is a cube of volcanic tuff the size of a cottage, maybe five hundred tons, carved out of the living hill so neatly that it seems to float on a pond of its own quarry water. One side still grips the mountain. It looks unfinished, as if the crew walked off in the middle of a thought.

The Harima Fudoki, compiled in the early 700s, already treats it as a wonder and then trips over its own chronology, crediting men who did not live at the same time. Official Japan ties the nearby Tatsuyama quarries to the Kofun period. The monolith itself has no honest birth certificate. Laser scans in the mid-2000s confirmed the shape and left the date open to debate. People who live in that industrial weather will tell you it feels much older. I have stood there. I have washed my hands at the purification fountain because that is what you do before you walk into a shrine precinct, even when trucks are grinding past the parking lot like the sacred and the freight dock agreed to share a driveway.[14]

That is the image I cannot shake. One of the strangest worked stones on the islands, and the road to it is not a processional way. It is commerce. Stonehenge now has the visitor-center dignity it always deserved. Ishi-no-Hoden has a ladle and a workday. I do not want Disney. I want the courtesy of attention.

Then you go to Osaka, and the kofun rise out of the suburbs like keyholes cut into the earth. Daisenryō is more than five hundred meters of engineered mound, moat, and silence. The Imperial Household Agency keeps the great ones closed because they are tombs of emperors, or are said to be. Archaeologists get the berm, the haniwa, the occasional supervised walk on the grass. They do not get the burial chamber that would tell you who was actually put in the ground and what they were buried with. From the air those keyholes look startlingly like a design language that wandered. I have argued they look western in plan. That is an impression, not a laboratory result. Impression is allowed if you admit it.[15]

I do not buy the piety that says we cannot open those mounds because grandmother would be embarrassed. The dead are dead. Egypt would be a blank chapter if we had treated every wrapped body as a restraining order. NAGPRA and shrine politics and imperial dignity are not the same thing. I am saying a state that protects a story by locking the basement should not then lecture the rest of us about settled origins. If the relics in those keyholes ever show Near Eastern metalwork, glass, or motifs, the Silk Road gets older in the Japanese chapter. If they show nothing of the kind, the independent-development story gets a win it actually earned. Leaving the door shut and calling it reverence is how you keep the carton in the dark and insist it is still full.

I think the influence ran overland more than by a single heroic voyage: steppe, oasis, China, the islands, a long leak of forms. I also think the sea was never a wall to people who could see an island. Both can be true. What cannot be true is the claim that we already know because we have chosen not to look.

Yonaguni, the Sahara Eye, and Other Places the Internet Married to Plato

Off Yonaguni, the terraces look like a ruined grandstand. Masaaki Kimura spent years saying hands made them. Robert Schoch and later Japanese field studies said the sandstone is jointed the way bedded rock joints, and that the same right angles walk right up onto the dry coast. Tokyo does not manage the monument as a ruin. That does not forbid a little human tidying on a convenient ledge. It does mean the default is geology until someone bags a tool in place.[16]

Western Africa is the other marriage. The Richat Structure in Mauritania, the Eye of the Sahara, is a set of rings so tidy from orbit that Atlantis hunters drew canals on it in software. I have listened to those lectures. Some of the geographical special pleading is clever. The rock is not. It is an eroded dome with igneous guts that began during the breakup of Pangaea, not in 9600 BC. People passed through a greener Sahara and left tools. They did not leave Plato’s harbor. A circle is not a civilization.[17]

Could a lost culture have lived on a wetter West African plain and later been remembered as an island beyond Gibraltar? Folklore can migrate farther than copper. I will not call that proof. I will call it a question that still belongs on the table after the Eye itself has been returned to the geologists.

What the Strongest Evidence Actually Is

People ask me for the strongest clue that the official timeline is thin. I do not hand them a sonar pyramid. I hand them a stack of things that survived because they were lucky.

Windover is strongest on this continent because peat is a cheap time machine. Cloth, brains, gourds, and a cemetery used across generations will beat a thousand YouTube overlays.

Göbekli Tepe is strongest in the Old World because it is architecture before the lecture said architecture was allowed, and because the feast-and-fermentation argument is at least a chemical argument.

Old Copper is strongest as labor. You do not accidentally leave thousands of pits and a lead stain in island lakes. Somebody wanted that metal and organized the desire for it.

Ishi-no-Hoden is strongest as a rebuke. A half-born megalith sitting in a working landscape tells you how much of the human file is still labeled folklore because it is inconvenient to staff.

The kofun are strongest when locked in a cabinet. When a society admits the mounds are important enough for UNESCO and too important to open, the timeline is being protected as well as the bones.

Atlantis in the mid-Atlantic, as a datable city under a tourist depth, is not in that stack. Not yet. Deep water grinds stone into suggestion. The suggestion is to get a new viral clip every August. Suggestion is not a footnote.

Why We Study the Mess Instead of Defending the Narrative

I did not come to this from a need to baptize every mound as a lost white empire, and I did not come to it to defend a museum label written in 1962. The indigenous people who met Columbus were not the first chapter, nor a footnote. They were one more arrival in a long hallway. Maps in Lisbon, copper in Superior, ponds in Florida, keyholes in Osaka, pillars in Anatolia — that is a hallway. Trade can be a network without being a single named kingdom. Atlantis, if the word is still useful, may be that network remembered badly, the way a family remembers a rich uncle who died at sea.

We study this so we do not repeat the part Plato actually cared about. Not the orichalcum. The pride. A people who could organize labor at that scale and then vanish are a sermon whether they lived in the Atlantic, the Sahara, or only in an Athenian dialogue. Cultures make mistakes large enough to erase themselves. Rising water helps. So does fire. So do later people who need the land and the story.

The carton is lighter than it was when we went to bed. That is not proof of a thief, and it is not proof the carton was always that empty. It is proof we should stop yelling “nothing to see” while the paper towels are still wet.

If I am right about a pre-biblical traffic in metal, ideas, and burial customs, the evidence will show up the way Windover did: because a backhoe operator paid attention and a landowner decided not to pour a street over the dead. If I am wrong about Superior copper in the Mediterranean, the isotopes will keep saying so. I can live with being wrong. I cannot live with a method that treats curiosity as vandalism and geology as a blanket thrown over every hard edge on the seafloor.

Scan the bottom of the sea. Drill the vents. Open a kofun with ceremony and cameras. Date the cloth. Source the copper again with a larger sample and a meaner lab. Leave the volcanic banks to the fish. Keep Plato on the nightstand, where a good story belongs, and keep the peat ponds and the quarry stones in the working file, where history belongs.

The milk was in the carton. Some of it is still on the towels. That is enough to keep looking.

Bibliography and Further Reading

Primary reports, surveys, and the better popular treatments. I have marked the speculative shelf as such.

Dietrich, Oliver, et al. “The Role of Cult and Feasting in the Emergence of Neolithic Communities: New Evidence from Göbekli Tepe, South-eastern Turkey.” Antiquity 86 (2012).

Doran, Glen H., and David N. Dickel. Windover site reports and “A 7,290-Year-Old Bottle Gourd from the Windover Site, Florida.” American Antiquity 55, no. 2 (1990).

Instituto Hidrográfico da Marinha. Statement on the Terceira sonar feature, reported in Público, “Pirâmide subaquática ao largo da Terceira não existe,” October 4, 2013.

Kelley, Deborah S., et al. Papers on the Lost City Hydrothermal Field; NOAA Ocean Explorer background on serpentinization at the Atlantis Massif.

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

Milwaukee Public Museum. “Old Copper Culture.” Collection overview and dating summary.

Pernicka, Ernst. Surveys of Bronze Age metal provenance and the limits of lead-isotope attribution—Journal of Archaeological Research and related handbooks.

Plato. Timaeus and Critias. Any reliable translation. Read both the geography and the moral.

Pompeani, David P., et al. Lake-sediment metal records of Archaic copper mining around Isle Royale and the Keweenaw. The Holocene and subsequent papers, including later work placing early copper use near 9500 cal BP.

Schoch, Robert M. Assessments of the Yonaguni formation as primarily jointed Miocene sandstone.

Wentz, Rachel. Life and Death at Windover: Excavations of a 7000-Year-Old Pond Cemetery. Florida Historical Society Press.

Weinzweig, Paul, and Paulina Zelitsky. Contemporary interviews in the Globe and Mail (December 2001) and the Sydney Morning Herald (October 2002) on the Guanahacabibes sonar survey.

Iturralde-Vinent, Manuel. Cautionary comments on the Cuban deep-water blocks, circulated in Cuban scientific and press accounts.

UNESCO / Sakai City. Materials on the Mozu-Furuichi Kofun Group and Imperial Household Agency access limits.

Takasago City / Ōshiko Jinja. Notices on Ishi-no-Hoden and the Tatsuyama stone quarries; Harima Fudoki references.

Matton, Guillaume, and Michel Jébrak, and later Ar/Ar work on the Richat Structure: geologic dome and CAMP-related gabbros, not a sunken capital.

On the speculative shelf, to be read with the carton in mind: popular Azores and Sahara-Atlantis lectures; newspaper giant-skeleton compilations from Ohio and the Mississippi Valley; claims of Superior copper in European museum bronzes awaiting large, independent isotope series.

Note on method. This essay is written in the first person because the questions are mine. The footnotes are there so the questions can be checked. Where the rock is volcanic, I have said so. Where the cabinet is locked, I have said that too. Wanting a lost world is not the same as finding one. Refusing to look is not the same as knowing.

Footnotes

[1] Plato, Timaeus and Critias, c. 360 BC. The Atlantis story is presented as a tale Solon heard in Egypt, set nine thousand years before Solon’s time.

[2] Instituto Hidrográfico da Marinha, communiqué summarized in Público, “Pirâmide subaquática ao largo da Terceira não existe,” October 4, 2013. High-resolution 2009 bathymetry showed depths of about 540 m at the reported position, not a 60 m pyramid rising to 40 m of water.

[3] Dom João de Castro Bank is a documented submarine volcano between Terceira and São Miguel. Summit depth is about 13 m. It built a temporary island in December 1720. See Wikipedia and Portuguese hydrographic records.

[4] Paul Weinzweig and Paulina Zelitsky / Advanced Digital Communications, working with Cuban authorities, 2000–2001. Contemporary coverage: Globe and Mail, December 7, 2001; Sydney Morning Herald, October 12, 2002.

[5] Manuel Iturralde-Vinent, Cuban geologist on the original team, cautioned that unusual geometry is not proof of architecture and that reaching 600–750 m would require tens of thousands of years of subsidence. Quoted in Spanish-language summaries and Granma retrospectives.

[6] Lost City Hydrothermal Field, Atlantis Massif, Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Discovered in 2000. Alkaline vents driven by serpentinization, not magma-fed black smokers. NOAA Ocean Explorer; Kelley et al.; Wikipedia, “Lost City Hydrothermal Field.”

[7] IODP Expedition 399 / JOIDES Resolution, Hole U1601C, 1,268 m below seafloor, 2023. Fluid chemistry matched Lost City end-member fluids after reaction with peridotite and gabbro above about 300°C. Reported 2025–2026 in Geochemistry, Geophysics, Geosystems coverage.

[8] Windover Archaeological Site, Brevard County, Florida. National Historic Landmark. Roughly 168 individuals, peat-pond cemetery dated about 7,000–8,000 years before present. Brain tissue in 91 skulls; woven palmetto-fiber textiles; bottle gourd dated 7,290 ± 120 rcybp. Doran and Dickel; Florida Historical Society.

[9] Dietrich et al., “The role of cult and feasting in the emergence of Neolithic communities,” Antiquity (2012). Calcium oxalate residues in large limestone troughs at Göbekli Tepe are suggestive of cereal fermentation, not a closed case.

[10] Old Copper Complex / Old Copper Culture. Utilitarian native-copper tools around the western Great Lakes. Radiocarbon work places early copper use as far back as about 9,500 cal BP, with a peak roughly between 7,000 and 5,000 cal BP. Pompeani et al.; Bebber; Milwaukee Public Museum.

[11] Lake sediment records near Isle Royale mines show elevated lead levels consistent with Archaic mining about 6,000 years ago: Pompeani and colleagues, The Holocene, and later lake-sediment papers.

[12] Mainstream Bronze Age provenance work sources most European copper to Cyprus, the Alps, Iberia, the British Isles, and the Balkans via lead isotopes and trace elements. See Pernicka and OXALID-related surveys. Claims of Superior copper in European bronzes remain contested, small-sample, and unreplicated at scale.

[13] Newspaper-era reports of oversized skeletons in Ohio and elsewhere are a real historical genre. They are not the same thing as curated, measured, peer-reviewed osteology. Nineteenth-century papers sold marvels. That is part of the spilled-milk problem, not a solution to it.

[14] Ishi-no-Hōden (Ishi no Hōden), Ōshiko Jinja, Takasago, Hyōgo. About 500-ton tuff monolith, unfinished, appearing to float over a quarry pond. Mentioned in the Harima Fudoki (713–717). Official dating is unknown; the associated quarries date to the Kofun period. National Historic Site, 1979/2017.

[15] Mozu-Furuichi kofun group, Osaka. Daisenryō Kofun (attributed to Emperor Nintoku) is about 525 m long. Imperial Household Agency restricts excavation of designated imperial tombs. UNESCO World Heritage, 2019.

[16] Yonaguni Monument, off Yonaguni Island. Masaaki Kimura argued for an artificial origin. Robert Schoch and later Japanese topographic studies treat it as jointed Miocene sandstone eroded along bedding planes. Japan’s Agency for Cultural Affairs does not list it as an archaeological site.

[17] Richat Structure (Eye of the Sahara), Mauritania. Eroded igneous/sedimentary dome. Gabbros consistent with CAMP-age magmatism around 200 million years ago; later carbonatites around 99 Ma. No excavated city, canals, or Bronze Age harbor works.

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.

Being More Than Human: The Lesson of Numbers 25


I wrote Symposium of Justice in 2004 under a pressure most people never carry for long, and the character I named Cliffhanger still sits with me whenever the talk turns to what it means to become more than human. The book was a modern Zorro story dressed in the clothes of a fast-food cook named Fletcher Finnegan, a man rich enough to sit in any boardroom yet who deliberately chose the lowest-status job in town so he could listen to the kids who actually knew where the crime lived. He put on an apron and flipped burgers because prestige is one of the oldest chains non-human intelligence uses to keep us in line. Once you no longer need the room’s approval, the bullets start to disappear. That was the part Hollywood never could grasp. They understood Superman from Krypton and Iron Man in a suit. They could not understand a man who had stopped asking the system for permission to exist.¹

The system in that book was never just corrupt cops or politicians. It was the machinery driven by intelligences that are neither human nor ever were. They feed on the human craving for status, for sexual conquest displayed in front of peers, for the lawn that is greener than the neighbor’s. Numbers 25 still haunts me because it shows the pattern in plain sight. Moses had already walked with God, already seen the bush burn, already split the sea, and still the people dragged Moabite women into the camp and had sex with them in open defiance right in front of their leader. Yahweh’s anger was not abstract. He kept Moses on the wrong side of the Jordan. Leadership that cannot enforce the line is not leadership; it is theater. The Overman is the one who refuses to play in that theater.²

Cliffhanger’s ten rules were never meant to replace the Ten Commandments. They were a working set of standards for a man who had already decided he would not live as spiritual livestock. I wrote them in my early thirties while the story was still hot in my hands, and I have lived by them since.

Rule one is to honor women as the pillars of society. That is not sentiment. A culture that treats women as disposable will collapse under its own weight, and non-human intelligences have always known how to use that collapse. Rule two demands that a man live as an example of the highest moral order he can conceive. Rule three is the refusal of mental depletion: no intoxication that dulls the edge, no cultivated ignorance. Pursue learning the way a man dying of thirst pursues water. Rule four is the quiet discipline of keeping the body and mind under the same command so that neither becomes a doorway for something else. Rule five insists that integrity is the alignment of stated values with actual behavior; anything less is performance for an audience that is not human. Rule six is to live the life you were given rather than the dream someone else sold you. Rule seven: in crisis, handle everything calmly and without confusion. Rule eight: be capable of firmness in the heart when firmness is required. Rule nine: sorrow is accepted with a smile. And the last rule, the one that still cuts deepest: resist hiding in numbers. Stand as an individual contributor.³

Cliffhanger’s Ten Rules

  1. Honor women as the pillars of society.

A culture that treats women as disposable will collapse under its own weight, and non‑human intelligences have always known how to use that collapse.

  • Live as an example of the highest moral order you can conceive.

A man’s life should reflect the standard he claims to uphold.

  • Refuse mental depletion.

No intoxication that dulls the edge, no cultivated ignorance. Pursue learning the way a man dying of thirst pursues water.

  • Keep the body and mind under the same command.

Quiet discipline prevents either from becoming a doorway for something else.

  • Align stated values with actual behavior.

Integrity is the congruence between what you claim and what you do; anything less is performance for an audience that is not human.

  • Live the life you were given, not the dream someone else sold you.

Authenticity is a form of sovereignty.

  • In a crisis, remain calm and free of confusion.

Clarity under pressure is a moral act.

  • Be capable of firmness in the heart when firmness is required.

Strength is not cruelty; it is resolve.

  • Accept sorrow with a smile.

Suffering is not an enemy — it is a teacher.

  1.  Resist hiding in numbers.

That still cuts deepest: resist hiding in numbers. Stand as an individual contributor.”

Those rules are what allowed Cliffhanger to walk through a house full of gunfire without taking a round. It was never magic. It was the disciplined refusal of the peer-pressure mechanisms that non-human intelligence has used since the garden. Once a man no longer needs the room to nod at him, the room loses its power to aim. Quantum observation is not a metaphor here. The man who has divorced himself from the need for status selects the reality in which the bullet misses, because he is no longer entangled with the fear that makes most men flinch. I explained that to studio people for years. They nodded, then asked if we could give him a suit or a radioactive spider. They wanted the power without the cost. The cost is that you will never again be fully approved by the herd. That is the price of the Overman.⁴

Quantum observation is the idea that at the smallest scales of reality, particles do not behave like solid objects but like probabilities—spreads of potential outcomes that only “collapse” into a definite state when they are measured. In quantum mechanics, observation isn’t passive; it changes the system. A particle’s position, momentum, or even existence as a wave or a point becomes real only when something interacts with it. Before that moment, reality is a cloud of possibilities. Quantum observation suggests that consciousness, measurement, or interaction plays a role in shaping what becomes actual, hinting that the universe is not a fixed machine but a responsive field where the act of looking helps determine what is seen.

I have watched the same pattern repeat from the tent in Numbers 25 to the sex parties that still happen in certain circles, the ones that echo the same Babylonian rituals Stanley Kubrick tried to show in Eyes Wide Shut and Conan the Barbarianbefore the films were softened. The bones of giants still change hands. The same intelligences still demand sacrifice and participation. Most people still trade their sovereignty for a place at the table. The Overman is the one who walks away from the table and still eats.⁵

Jesus was fully human and fully something else. The resurrection was not a metaphor for self-improvement. Ghosts came out of the tombs. The limits of flesh were broken in public. That is the direction, not the rejection of the body but the refusal to remain its prisoner. Moses failed because he could not hold the line. Joshua was given the land because someone had to. The cycle keeps repeating because most of us still prefer the approval of the camp to the hard work of becoming the being that non-human intelligence cannot herd.⁶

I am not interested in uploading consciousness into a machine so we can live forever as software. That is just another version of the same livestock arrangement, only with better climate control. The Overman I wrote about in 2004 is the man who stays in the body, stays in the fight, and refuses the spiritual cattle chute. He works the night shift at the restaurant so he can hear where the next crime is forming. He carries a bullwhip instead of a cape because the whip is honest about the cost of discipline. He selects the reality in which the bullets miss because he has already selected the reality in which he no longer needs the shooters’ respect.

That is the part I am still proud of. The rest of the culture is only now beginning to use words like ultra-human and non-human intelligence in public. I wrote the story twenty-two years ago because the pattern was already visible if you were willing to look past the need to be liked. The ten rules still stand. The bullets still miss when the man no longer flinches for applause. And the war with whatever has been herding us since the garden is still the only war that matters.

From Nietzsche to Teilhard de Chardin to Mircea Eliade and Jacques Vallée, a long intellectual thread has argued that the human being is not a completed creature but a transitional one. Nietzsche’s Übermensch was the first modern articulation of the “overman,” a figure who rises beyond inherited moral frameworks and becomes capable of shaping meaning rather than receiving it. Teilhard expanded the idea into the “Ultra-Human,” a being transformed by consciousness, complexity, and spiritual evolution. Eliade saw humanity as perpetually pulled toward the sacred, always reaching for a higher mode of existence through ritual, myth, and contact with the transcendent. Vallée reframed the question for the technological age, suggesting that encounters with non‑human intelligence may be part of a long‑running process that pushes humanity toward a more advanced form of awareness. Pasulka’s work in The Others brings this lineage into the present moment: she argues that extraordinary experiences, anomalous contact, and the emergence of non-human intelligences are forcing human beings to grow into something larger than the version of ourselves we inherited. In this view, the real struggle of the twenty-first century is not human versus artificial intelligence, but human versus the non-human intelligences that have always been present at the edges of our history — the same kind of character hinted at in recent disclosures and the strange figures emerging from the shadows of power. The question is whether humanity will rise to meet that challenge, or remain a species unaware of the evolutionary pressure being applied to it.

Numbers 25 is one of the clearest biblical moments where Yahweh sees Moses hesitate, and that hesitation is treated as weakness. The crisis at Baal‑Peor wasn’t just a moral failure — it was a collapse of sovereignty. The people aligned themselves with a rival deity, a rival ritual system, and a rival identity. In the lineage of thinkers such as Nietzsche, Teilhard de Chardin, Eliade, Vallée, and Pasulka, this moment reads like a test of whether humanity can rise to a higher form of discipline and consciousness or fall back into the gravitational pull of older, chaotic forces. Moses pauses, trying to manage the rebellion through judges and procedure, but Yahweh demands decisive action — the kind of firmness, clarity, and elevated moral strength associated with the “overman,” the “ultra‑human,” or the spiritually evolved human these writers describe. Phinehas, not Moses, embodies that higher threshold: he acts with total alignment, total conviction, and total sovereignty, restoring the boundary between human order and non-human influence. In this reading, Yahweh’s frustration with Moses is not about anger but about evolution — Moses hesitates at the very moment when the human being is supposed to rise. Numbers 25 becomes a story about whether humanity can grow into the being capable of resisting non‑human intelligences, chaotic ritual systems, and the collapse of moral order. Moses falters; Phinehas steps forward. The text preserves that contrast as a warning about what happens when leaders fail to evolve at the pace the crisis demands.

Numbers 25 opens with the Israelites camped at Shittim, where they begin engaging in Moabite rituals and festivals. The Moabite women invite the Israelite men to their sacrificial feasts, and the men join them — eating, bowing, and participating in the worship of Baal‑Peor, a local deity. This is treated in the text as a direct betrayal of Yahweh, a collapse of loyalty and identity.

As the people align themselves with Baal‑Peor, Yahweh’s anger is described as burning against Israel. He commands Moses to execute the leaders responsible for leading the rebellion. Moses instructs the judges to kill those who joined themselves to Baal‑Peor.

Right in the middle of this crisis, something shocking happens: an Israelite man named Zimri publicly brings a Midianite woman named Cozbi into the camp, in full view of Moses and the entire assembly. The text emphasizes that this act is deliberate, defiant, and visible — a symbolic gesture of rejecting Moses’s authority and Yahweh’s command.

While the people are weeping at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, Phinehas, the grandson of Aaron, sees what Zimri has done. He takes a spear, enters the chamber where Zimri and Cozbi are having sex together, and kills them both with a single thrust. The moment he does this, the plague that had broken out among the Israelites stops.

By the time the plague ends, 24,000 people have died.

Yahweh declares that Phinehas’s action has “turned away” divine anger and restored the covenant. Phinehas is given a “covenant of peace” and a “lasting priesthood” because he acted with zeal when the leadership hesitated. The chapter ends with Yahweh commanding Moses to treat the Midianites as enemies because they were the ones who enticed Israel into the rebellion at Baal Peor.  This is a fight on many levels that still carries over to this very day.  And Moses was too nice, too human.

“The System” in my book was never just corrupt cops or politicians. It was the machinery driven by intelligences that are neither human nor ever were. They feed on the human craving for status, for sexual conquest displayed in front of peers, for the lawn that is greener than the neighbor’s. Numbers 25 still haunts me because it shows the pattern in plain sight. Moses had already walked with God, already seen the bush burn, already split the sea, and still the people dragged Moabite women into the camp and had sex with them in open defiance right in front of their leader. Yahweh’s anger was not abstract. He kept Moses on the wrong side of the Jordan. Leadership that cannot enforce the line is not leadership; it is theater. The Overman is the one who refuses to play in that theater.²

Cliffhanger’s ten rules were never meant to replace the Ten Commandments. They were a working set of standards for a man who had already decided he would not live as spiritual livestock. I wrote them in my early thirties while the story was still hot in my hands, and I have lived by them since.

Notes:

¹ The character Fletcher Finnegan was deliberately modeled on the dual nature of Don Diego de la Vega in the original Zorro stories and the 1957–1959 Disney television series. The decision to place him in a fast-food kitchen rather than a mansion was an attempt to invert the usual social camouflage: instead of pretending to be idle and foppish, Cliffhanger pretends to be ordinary and low-status so that the system itself overlooks him.

² Numbers 25:1–9 records the incident at Peor. The text is unambiguous that the Israelites engaged in sexual relations with Moabite women and joined in the worship of Baal of Peor in full view of Moses and the congregation. Yahweh’s response was immediate and severe; Moses was later barred from entering the land (Deuteronomy 32:48–52; 34:1–5). The episode has long been read as much a failure of leadership as a failure of the people.

³ These ten rules appear in Symposium of Justice (2004) as the practical code Cliffhanger lives by. They were never presented as a replacement for the Decalogue but as a set of operational standards for a man determined not to be managed by the ordinary levers of social control.

⁴ The idea that focused intention can select among probable outcomes draws on the observer effect in quantum mechanics and on the older tradition of disciplined positive concentration found in certain esoteric and practical philosophies. In the novel, the effect is treated as a consequence of having first severed the psychological tethers that keep most people entangled with the expectations of the crowd.

⁵ Jacques Vallée and John Keel both documented the recurring pattern of non-human intelligences interacting with human societies through deception, sexual or sacrificial demand, and the exploitation of human psychological weaknesses. The novel’s “System” is an early fictional attempt to name that pattern without reducing it to either pure folklore or pure extraterrestrial visitation.

⁶ The resurrection accounts in the Gospels (especially Matthew 27:52–53) include the detail of the tombs opening and the bodies of the saints rising. Whatever else one makes of the event, it presents a public rupture of ordinary human limits. The contrast with Moses’ exclusion from the land remains one of the sharpest illustrations in Scripture of the difference between a leader who cannot hold the line and a figure who transcends the ordinary terms of human failure.

Bibliography

Hoffman, Rich. Symposium of Justice. 2004.

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

Keel, John A. Operation Trojan Horse. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1970.

Nietzsche, Friedrich. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Translated by Walter Kaufmann. New York: Viking, 1954.

Palka, E.W. The Others. [Publisher details as available].

Vallée, Jacques. Passport to Magonia. Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1969.

Vallée, Jacques. Dimensions: A Casebook of Alien Contact. Chicago: Contemporary Books, 1988.

¹ The character Fletcher Finnegan was deliberately modeled on the dual nature of Don Diego de la Vega in the original Zorro stories and the 1957–1959 Disney television series. The decision to place him in a fast-food kitchen rather than a mansion was an attempt to invert the usual social camouflage: instead of pretending to be idle and foppish, Cliffhanger pretends to be ordinary and low-status so that the system itself overlooks him.

² Numbers 25:1–9 records the incident at Peor. The text is unambiguous that the Israelites engaged in sexual relations with Moabite women and joined in the worship of Baal of Peor in full view of Moses and the congregation. Yahweh’s response was immediate and severe; Moses was later barred from entering the land (Deuteronomy 32:48–52; 34:1–5). The episode has long been read as much a failure of leadership as of the people.

³ These ten rules appear in Symposium of Justice (2004) as the practical code Cliffhanger lives by. They were never presented as a replacement for the Decalogue but as a set of operational standards for a man determined not to be managed by the ordinary levers of social control.

⁴ The idea that focused intention can select among probable outcomes draws on the observer effect in quantum mechanics and on the older tradition of disciplined positive concentration found in certain esoteric and practical philosophies. In the novel, the effect is treated as a consequence of having first severed the psychological tethers that keep most people entangled with the expectations of the crowd.

⁵ Jacques Vallée and John Keel both documented the recurring pattern of non-human intelligences interacting with human societies through deception, sexual or sacrificial demand, and the exploitation of human psychological weaknesses. The novel’s “System” is an early fictional attempt to name that pattern without reducing it to either pure folklore or pure extraterrestrial visitation.

⁶ The resurrection accounts in the Gospels (especially Matthew 27:52–53) include the detail of the tombs opening and the bodies of the saints rising. Whatever else one makes of the event, it presents a public rupture of ordinary human limits. The contrast with Moses’ exclusion from the land remains one of the sharpest illustrations in Scripture of the difference between a leader who cannot hold the line and a figure who transcends the ordinary terms of human failure.

Bibliography

Hoffman, Rich. Symposium of Justice. 2004.

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

Keel, John A. Operation Trojan Horse. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1970.

Nietzsche, Friedrich. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Translated by Walter Kaufmann. New York: Viking, 1954.

Palka, E.W. The Others. [Publisher details as available].

Vallée, Jacques. Passport to Magonia. Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1969.

Vallée, Jacques. Dimensions: A Casebook of Alien Contact. Chicago: Contemporary Books, 1988.

The Holy Bible. Numbers 25; Deuteronomy 32–34; Matthew 27.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

Sheriff Jones’ New Book: The Treasure of Butler County, Waffle House, Andy Griffith, and Gunsmoke all wrapped up into one person

I first learned that Sheriff Richard K. Jones had put a book out when a few people in the county mentioned it in passing, and the moment I heard the title I knew I would read it. They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America arrived on the front porch the day my family and I returned from being out of town at Put-in-Bay, in Ohio. I had ordered it so it would be waiting, because I had already promised myself and others that I would get through it promptly. After more than two decades of knowing the man, shaking his hand at events, watching him work a room in that cowboy hat of his, and hearing him on WLW or in national spots talking immigration and law and order, I still carried questions about how he became who he is, what shaped the priorities he brings to the office every morning, and how a man decides day to day what matters most when the badge is on. The book answered more of those questions than casual conversation ever could.

What struck me first is that this is not merely a campaign volume or a greatest-hits collection of media appearances. It reads like a man who has spent a lifetime speaking into microphones and cameras finally realizing that the voice does not last forever. There is a quiet urgency underneath the stories. He talks about the burial plot, about the friend at the funeral home who will one day see him prepared for the last service. He is only a little more than a decade older than I am, yet the public job ages a person in ways private life does not. Six terms as sheriff of Butler County, with the possibility of more, still brings the knowledge that one day the hat comes off for the last time. Writing the book becomes a way of leaving the voice behind so that the things he believes still matter after the daily briefings and the press conferences stop. 

I have always liked the Gunsmoke in him. He admits the debt openly. The old black-and-white shows, the clear line between the man who upholds the law and the men who break it, the sense that a sheriff walks the street and talks to people and puts things right when he can. Andy Griffith is there too, the Mayberry instinct to put an arm around the troubled soul and try to set him back on the path. Those two shows formed a generation of men who believed law enforcement could be both firm and decent. Jonesy lives that combination more than most. He is black-and-white on the big questions. Drugs destroy families and communities; illegal immigration brings more of the same; the jail is full of people who made choices that wrecked their own lives and the lives of others. Yet the book reveals a softer edge than the public persona sometimes allows. He is a compassionate conservative in the older sense of the term. He wants the county to feel more like the place he grew up, where most of the kids he knew had parents who stayed married twenty or thirty years and worked through their troubles instead of walking away at the first hard stretch. 

That observation about divorce rates is one of the strongest passages. He watched the numbers climb across his adult lifetime and saw the downstream damage in the jail, in the overdose calls, in the children who never had a stable home to push against. Stable families produce the work ethic and the self-control that keep a community from tipping into chaos. When the marriages fracture as a matter of course, the sheriff’s office ends up dealing with the wreckage. He does not present himself as a sociologist, but the pattern is plain to anyone who has spent decades answering the same kinds of calls. The data back the instinct. The sharp rise in divorce after the introduction of no-fault laws, the parallel growth in single-parent households, and the measurable links to higher rates of juvenile trouble, drug use, and later criminality are not left-wing inventions or right-wing inventions. They are simply what happened. 

I share the same cultural memory. I grew up with Gunsmoke playing in the background at my grandparents’ place near Oxford, rabbit ears and all, the same black-and-white morality on the screen while the adults talked about the real world. The shows did not prepare a man for the full depth of certain modern evils. Pornography addiction of the kind that turns a phone into a nonstop delivery system, and the further slide into the sexual exploitation of children, sit outside the frame of those old stories. Jonesy is of an era when a teenager might sneak a look at a dirty magazine on a high shelf in an old bookstore hoping that the cashier wouldn’t catch them. The scale and the numbness of what exists now are harder for that generation to metabolize, not because the men lack courage, but because the evil itself is newer in its accessibility and its intensity. He is devastatingly clear on drugs. On the deeper sexual corruptions that have grown in the last thirty years, the book leaves the impression of a man who sees the damage and still struggles to find language adequate to the thing itself. That is not a failing of character. It is the honest limit of a worldview formed before the internet made every darkness instantly available.

His record on the drug side is long and consistent. The seizures, the public messaging, the refusal to treat overdose deaths as inevitable background noise, all of it tracks with the same black-and-white view. He has been equally consistent on illegal immigration, which is why the national media found him useful for color and why the comparisons to Joe Arpaio sometimes surface. Arpaio paid a political and legal price for enforcing the same principles under a different administration; the pardon that followed was a recognition that the prosecution had been selective. Jonesy has not faced that level of federal hostility, and Butler County is not Maricopa. The local political climate has allowed him to keep doing the work. I expect him to keep winning as long as he wants the job, and I hope that is for a good while yet. The county is better for his presence. 

There is a section on the COVID years that brought back the tension of those days. He kept the office functioning, kept the messaging straightforward, and refused to let the panic dictate every decision. Leadership under that kind of pressure reveals the man. The same instinct shows up in the smaller habits. He likes the Waffle House on Main Street in Hamilton enough that they named an omelet after him. I understand the attraction. Walk in, sit at the counter, talk to the cooks and the waitresses and whoever else is there about the country and the county and what needs fixing. It is the modern version of the saloon without the whiskey, a place where a sheriff can still be a citizen among citizens. I took my granddaughter to a Waffle House on a trip toward Columbus for the same reason. The American flags and the unapologetic patriotism on the walls feel like home. Jonesy belongs in that atmosphere the same way he belongs in the cowboy hat.

The book is full of the personal details that never surface in a sound bite. Garfield High School. The long marriage. The children and grandchildren. The zoo trips. The quiet pride in having built a life that looks something like the ones he saw around him as a boy. He is not trying to present himself as a sophisticated theorist. He is trying to say that the old model still works if enough people insist on it. Strong families, clear laws, a sheriff who shows up every day ready to lock up the people who refuse to live by them, and a willingness to put an arm around the ones who might still be pulled back. That combination is rarer than it should be.

I have found myself on the opposite side of primary fights from time to time, the normal friction of people who share a party but not always a candidate. None of that changed the basic respect. The man has brought real public relations value to the office and to the county. When national outlets need a sheriff who will speak plainly about the border or the drug crisis, they know where to find him. Locally he has kept the department visible and the standards high. The book makes plain that the visibility is not an end in itself. It is a tool for keeping the public on the side of the people who have to make the hard calls at three in the morning.

Some of my favorite people. And I never get tired of Sheriff Jones.

What lingers after the last page is the sense of a man measuring the distance between the county he inherited and the county he will leave. He wants the next generation of law enforcement and the next generation of citizens to remember that the job is still worth doing it the old way. The book is his attempt to make that memory portable. It is not perfect. No book written by a working sheriff in the middle of the job is going to be. It is honest in the places that matter. The love of the old shows, the sadness over the collapse of stable families, the daily refusal to treat drug dealers as unfortunate victims of circumstance, the recognition that the voice will one day go quiet, all of it lands cleanly.

If the goal is still to make the country better starting from the ground up, then more sheriffs who think like this would help. Fix the families and a large part of the downstream crime and addiction begins to shrink. Keep the border and the drug pipelines under pressure. Keep the local office present and accountable. Jonesy has practiced that combination for a long time in one midwestern county. The book lets the rest of the country see the method without the filter of a three-minute television hit. I finished it glad I had waited for the porch delivery, and gladder still that the man who wrote it is still on the job. Butler County has been better for it. The country would be better if more places had the same standard.

I will keep endorsing him for as many terms as he chooses to run. The hat still fits. The instincts are still sound. And the book ensures that even after the last term the voice remains available to anyone willing to listen.  Which they should. 

Notes

1.  Richard K. Jones, They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America (2026). Official description and author framing appear at theycallmejonesy.com and the Amazon listing for the title.

2.  Biographical details drawn from the Butler County Sheriff’s Office official profile and contemporary reporting: born October 11, 1953, Hamilton, Ohio; military service 1973–1975; long career in Ohio corrections before becoming chief deputy and then sheriff in 2005; multiple reelections including the 2020 cycle that secured a fifth term.

3.  Comparison to Joe Arpaio references the 2017 presidential pardon following the contempt conviction tied to immigration enforcement practices under the prior administration. See White House statement of August 25, 2017, and contemporaneous coverage.

4.  Historical divorce and family-structure trends are well documented in Census and CDC data showing the post-1960s acceleration after no-fault divorce reforms, the rise in single-parent households, and correlated social outcomes. See also the long-term cultural commentary in works such as Charles Murray’s Coming Apart and the earlier observations of Daniel Patrick Moynihan.

5.  Jones’s public commentary on immigration, fentanyl, and COVID-era policy is extensively recorded in local outlets (Journal-News, Local 12), national appearances, and the sheriff’s own podcast In the Saddle.

Bibliography for Further Reading

Arpaio, Joe, and Tom Fitton. Joe’s Law: America’s Toughest Sheriff Takes On Illegal Immigration, Drugs, and Everything Else That Threatens America. New York: AMACOM, 2008.

Murray, Charles. Coming Apart: The State of White America, 1960–2010. New York: Crown Forum, 2012.

Moynihan, Daniel Patrick. The Negro Family: The Case for National Action. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of Labor, 1965. (The original memorandum remains foundational for understanding family-structure effects on social outcomes.)

Putnam, Robert D. Our Kids: The American Dream in Crisis. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2015.

Sheriff Richard K. Jones. Official biography and news archive at butlersheriff.org.

They Call Me Jonesy official site: theycallmejonesy.com.

U.S. Census Bureau and National Center for Health Statistics historical tables on marriage, divorce, and household composition, 1950–present.

Vance, J.D. Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis. New York: Harper, 2016. (Useful companion reading on the cultural and family pressures in the broader Ohio Valley region.)

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

The 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

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

They Call Me Jonesy: Sheriff Jones’ Book About Leadership, Brand building, and Saving America

It was a Friday night in mid-July 2026, and I was in one of those nice theaters with the little tables—the kind that make an evening out feel intentional rather than just another screen in the dark. The film was Young Washington, the new one about George Washington’s early years in the French and Indian War, before he was the marble statue on the dollar bill or the father of a nation. It was a good picture, the kind that puts you in a patriotic frame of mind without preaching. I had my phone face-down on the table because I didn’t want to be that guy checking messages during the show. But even silenced, I could feel it lighting up now and then. When the credits rolled and I finally turned it over, there were more notifications than I expected. One of them was from Sheriff Jones.

I like Sheriff Jones. I always have. He’s one of those larger-than-life figures who makes Butler County feel like it still has some old-fashioned backbone left. When he texted to let me know he had a new book out—“They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America”—I was genuinely surprised. It had come out back in May, and I hadn’t heard a thing about it until that message. He said if I wanted to talk about it or pick one up, to reach out. I told him right then I’d get it read. I could have driven over and grabbed a copy from him directly, but I wanted to do it the right way—support the work properly—so I opened Amazon on the spot and bought it. As I write this, the book hasn’t arrived yet. I’ve been busy, the way most of us are these days, and sometimes the important people and the important things slip through the cracks until a text like that snaps you back to attention.

While I wait for it to show up, I’ve been thinking about what it means to have a Sheriff like Richard K. Jones in our community—and why the public relations side of his job might be every bit as important as the operational side most people picture when they think “law enforcement.”

In Butler County, Jones is more than the man who runs the jail and signs the paychecks for deputies. He’s a character in the classic sense: the tall figure in the signature cowboy hat and those big ostrich boots, the one who shows up at fundraisers for youth shooting sports, compares hats with old friends, and isn’t afraid to talk about the realities of the job—the lawsuits that come with the territory, the guns he carries or the ones the department fields, the constant pressure from every direction. He’s been doing this a long time. First elected in 2004, he’s now well into what I’d call his seventh term of service, having worked through multiple governors, multiple presidents, and the full spectrum of political weather in Ohio and beyond. He’s dealt with the Bush years, the Obama years, the Biden years, and whatever comes next. Through all of it, he’s stayed visible, outspoken, and unapologetic in a way that feels increasingly rare.

That visibility is the part a lot of people miss when they talk about what a Sheriff is supposed to do. Some folks think the job is purely about kicking in doors and locking up bad guys. And yes, that work matters—more than most civilians will ever understand. But if you only do the enforcement piece and ignore the executive piece, you eventually lose the community you’re sworn to protect. People start seeing the badge as something distant and ominous rather than something that belongs to them. They start questioning why their tax dollars go to support it. Morale inside the department suffers when the public narrative turns against you. Jones figured this out a long time ago, long before national figures made “brand” a dirty word or a political weapon. He understood that in a republic, especially at the county level where government is closest to the people, you have to build something citizens can latch onto and believe in. You have to make law and order feel like a shared project rather than an imposition.

That’s what I mean when I talk about executive leadership. I’ve written about it in The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business and I’m still working through the lessons in my own professional life—an aerospace executive who spends a lot of hours every week trying to impose will on circumstances, build teams that believe in the mission, and create something durable enough to survive the inevitable storms. The gunfighter doesn’t just draw fast; he creates the conditions where the draw is rarely necessary because the reputation and the relationships do half the work. Same principle applies to a Sheriff’s office. If the community sees the department as “us” rather than “them,” you get better cooperation on tips, better juries, better budgets, better young people considering the career, and a healthier society overall. Jones has spent years cultivating exactly that. He gets on TV. He does the interviews. He shows up. He lets people see the human being behind the badge—the one with the cowboy hat and the straight talk—and that makes all the difference when something goes wrong and the cameras show up for the wrong reasons.

I’ll be honest: when I saw his name on my phone that night, part of me hoped it was the other kind of message. The one where he says they’re getting ready to hit a house or round up some cartel types or serve a warrant that might need an extra set of eyes and a steady hand. I’ve lived long enough and seen enough to know that sometimes the only thing that moves the needle is decisive action on the ground. I would have been in the truck in five minutes, and I think he knows that. But instead he wanted to tell me about the book, and that’s valuable in its own right. Because writing the book is also action—it’s distilling decades of experience into something other people can use. From everything I’ve seen in the descriptions and early word, They Call Me Jonesy is exactly what you’d expect from the man: candid, humorous in that tough-love Midwestern way, deeply patriotic, and full of stories about leadership under pressure, the cost of political correctness, the realities of “the swamp” at every level, and what it actually takes to push back. It’s a call to action for people who still believe in law and order, traditional values, and straight talk. And it comes from someone who’s walked the walk for more than twenty years in one of the most visible law enforcement jobs in Ohio.

We share a mutual friend in David Kern, the longtime Liberty Township trustee. David and I have known each other all my life. He’s always been a solid political figure—practical, engaged, the kind of person who gets things done without needing to be the loudest voice in the room. Jones and I have connected over that shared respect more than once. We’ve not always agreed on every detail of every issue, but we’ve always been able to shake hands, compare cowboy hats (mine’s been a fixture since I was in third or fourth grade, a declaration that I wasn’t going to blend into whatever the culture was selling that week), and keep the relationship real. That matters in a county like ours. It’s how you get things done when the easy path would be to retreat into your own silo and let the rest of the world burn.

There’s something refreshing about a public servant who still understands that the job includes selling the mission. Not in a slick, consultant-driven way—Jones is too much of a character for that—but in the old-fashioned sense of showing people why it’s worth supporting. He’s not afraid to be seen. He’s not afraid to be himself. And because of that, when Butler County residents look at the Sheriff’s Office, they don’t automatically default to suspicion or resentment. They see someone who’s been there through the hard times, who’s willing to say the unpopular thing out loud, and who’s built enough goodwill that the community is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when the inevitable controversies flare. That’s brand building at its most practical. It’s also leadership at its most effective.

I’m proud of Sheriff Jones for putting this book out into the world. Not every lawman has the discipline or the inclination to turn the raw material of a long career into something readable and useful for the next generation. He’s become something of an international figure in certain circles because of his willingness to speak plainly about immigration, crime, and the erosion of common sense in policy. But he’s stayed rooted here. That says something. And for those of us who call Butler County home, it means we have a Sheriff who gets the big picture: saving America isn’t just a slogan or a national election every four years. It happens in places like this, one relationship, one visible stand, one candid conversation at a time.

The book is available on Amazon right now—“They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America” by Richard K. Jones. I’m looking forward to reading it the moment it lands on my doorstep, and I’ll have more to say once I’ve had a chance to digest it properly. If it captures even a fraction of the personality and the hard-won wisdom I’ve come to associate with the man who sent me that text, it’ll be time well spent. And if you’re the kind of person who still believes that strong, unapologetic leadership at the local level is part of how we turn this country around, then do yourself a favor and pick up a copy too.

In the meantime, I’ll keep my phone close. You never know when the next message from the Sheriff might come through—maybe about the book, maybe about something more immediate. Either way, I’m glad he’s out there, hat and all, doing the work of building something worth believing in. We need more like him.

Footnotes

[1] Richard K. Jones, They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America (Independently published, May 18, 2026). The paperback edition became available around that date; a Kindle edition is also offered. See the official site at theycallmejonesy.com and the Amazon listing for current purchasing options and a free sample.

[2] The book’s public description emphasizes candid leadership lessons drawn from Jones’s decades in corrections and law enforcement, including direct commentary on crime, political correctness, “the swamp,” patriotism, and practical steps for those who want to help save America. Early testimonials have come from figures including former Arizona Sheriff Mark Lamb and former Middletown Police Chief Rodney Muterspaw.

[3] Sheriff Richard K. Jones was first elected Butler County Sheriff in November 2004 (taking office January 2005) and, as of mid-2026, is serving what official records describe as his sixth term. In personal conversation and local perception, the length and continuity of his service often register as an even longer tenure of steady leadership through changing political environments.

[4] Rich Hoffman, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business (available through standard retailers). The book explores themes of resilience, imposing will on circumstances, building loyal teams, and the executive’s role in creating something people will fight to preserve—lessons that parallel the brand-building and leadership approach discussed here.

[5] Purchase They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America directly through Amazon or the author’s site (theycallmejonesy.com). As of July 2026 it remains a recent release and is easy to find with a quick search for the title and author.

Bibliography

Jones, Richard K. They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America. Independently published, May 18, 2026.

Butler County Sheriff’s Office. “Sheriff.” Official biography page. https://www.butlersheriff.org/sheriff. Accessed July 2026.

Hoffman, Rich. The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business. [Publication details per author’s records].

Amazon.com product page for They Call Me Jonesy: Let’s Get Real About Saving America by Richard K. Jones (ASIN or ISBN as listed on site).

theycallmejonesy.com – Official book site with description, sample, and testimonials.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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