As the dust settles on Ohio’s May 5, 2026, primary election, the stage is set for one of the most consequential gubernatorial contests in the state’s recent history. Biotech entrepreneur and Trump-endorsed Republican Vivek Ramaswamy emerged as the overwhelming GOP nominee, crushing fringe challenger Casey Putsch with approximately 82.5% of the vote (673,902 votes to Putsch’s 143,257). Ramaswamy swept every single county in Ohio, a remarkable show of unity across urban, suburban, and rural areas. On the Democratic side, former Ohio Department of Health Director Dr. Amy Acton secured the nomination unopposed, garnering around 742,000–760,000 votes in a low-energy primary. Overall voter turnout reached about 22.6% of registered voters, a modest uptick from recent midterm cycles.
This matchup pits a dynamic, pro-growth outsider in Ramaswamy—backed by President Donald Trump and positioning Ohio as the nation’s top economic powerhouse—against Acton, whose public profile remains indelibly tied to the state’s aggressive COVID-19 response. As one conservative commentator noted in a recent podcast monologue, the race is far from the neck-and-neck horse race portrayed in some polling and media narratives. While recent surveys show a tight contest (with some giving Acton a slight edge or Ramaswamy a narrow lead), the ground game, Trump’s coattails, independent-voter outreach, and Acton’s historical liabilities suggest that Ramaswamy enters the general election with a structural advantage that could widen significantly by November 3, 2026.
To fully appreciate this contest, we must delve into the candidates’ backgrounds, the primary results and their implications, the lingering economic scars from the pandemic era, comparative policy outcomes in neighboring states, and the broader political currents reshaping Ohio. This analysis expands on grassroots conservative perspectives—while incorporating verifiable data on turnout, economic metrics, investment challenges, and campaign tactics. Far from a replay of “yesteryear” Democrat strategies, this race highlights how progressive governance models have faltered in a post-Trump political landscape.
Candidate Profiles: Contrasting Visions for Ohio’s Future
Vivek Ramaswamy, a Cincinnati native and biotech billionaire, represents a fresh face in Ohio politics despite his national profile from the 2024 Republican presidential primary. Born to Indian immigrant parents, Ramaswamy built a successful pharmaceutical company (Roivant Sciences) before pivoting to public service. His Trump endorsement came early and emphatically, framing him as a “young, strong, and smart” leader committed to meritocracy, deregulation, and economic revival. Ramaswamy’s campaign emphasizes making Ohio the “#1 state” through pro-business policies, workforce upskilling, and attracting high-tech investment in sectors like semiconductors and biotechnology. He campaigns on the “high road,” avoiding personal attacks while highlighting policy contrasts. Critics from the far-right fringes—such as Putsch, dubbed the “car guy” for his automotive-themed online persona—have leveled baseless claims about Ramaswamy’s heritage or loyalty, echoing outdated nativist arguments. Ramaswamy has dismissed these as irrelevant, noting his personal integrity and fair play: his running mate, Ohio Senate President Rob McColley, bolsters legislative experience.
In stark contrast stands Dr. Amy Acton, a physician from Youngstown with a compelling personal story of overcoming hardship in a steel mill family. She rose through public health ranks to become Ohio’s Health Director in 2019 under Republican Gov. Mike DeWine. Acton’s national visibility peaked during the early COVID-19 crisis, when she joined DeWine for daily briefings and advocated strict mitigation measures. These included Ohio’s first-in-the-nation school closures, stay-at-home orders (issued March 22, 2020), business shutdowns, and even the postponement of the state’s presidential primary. Supporters praised her as a calming, data-driven voice who “flattened the curve” and protected hospitals. However, detractors—including many business owners, parents, and conservatives—blame her policies for devastating economic and educational fallout, from mental health crises among youth to prolonged business closures. Acton resigned in June 2020 amid personal threats and protests, later serving briefly as a health advisor before entering the private sector and academia. Her 2026 campaign, with running mate and former Democratic Party chair David Pepper, focuses on “power back to the people,” affordability, and a critique of “billionaires and special interests.” Yet her record remains a focal point of Republican attacks, with Ramaswamy labeling her tenure an “abandonment of responsibility.”
Acton’s campaign has leaned on traditional Democratic infrastructure, including legal support from figures like election attorney Mark Elias, who has been linked to aggressive tactics such as cease-and-desist letters targeting critics. Pepper, a vocal strategist, has served as an attack dog, pushing narratives that question Ramaswamy’s Ohio investment record or allege personal scandals (e.g., unsubstantiated claims of extramarital affairs, which can easily be dismissed as fabrications). These echo “yesteryear” playbook moves but risk backfiring in an era of heightened voter skepticism toward centralized government overreach.
Primary Season: A Landslide for Ramaswamy, Unopposed for Acton
The May 5 primaries crystallized Republican enthusiasm. Ramaswamy’s 82.5% victory margin—far exceeding pre-primary polls showing him at 50-76%—demonstrated broad consolidation. He won 60-90%+ in nearly every county, from Democratic-leaning urban centers to deep-red rural areas, per county-by-county maps. Putsch, representing a self-described “radical right” element with fringe ideas (e.g., racial primacy in voting or extreme nativism), captured only 17.5% and never posed a serious threat. GOP insiders viewed him as illegitimate, akin to past primary spoilers. This sweep signals unified party backing, contrasting with historical GOP infighting (e.g., the 2016 Trump vs. Cruz/Rubio dynamics, in which critics eventually coalesced post-nomination).
Acton’s uncontested path yielded solid but unremarkable Democratic turnout. Overall, the low primary participation (22.6%) underscores that the real battle begins now, targeting the 2-3% of independents and soft partisans who decide the general election. Ramaswamy’s primary dominance positions him to inherit the full Republican machinery, amplified by Trump’s upcoming Ohio appearances.
The Economic Reckoning: COVID Policies, Recovery, and Investment Challenges
Central to the race is Acton’s COVID legacy and its economic toll. Ohio’s early lockdowns contributed to sharp job losses—hundreds of thousands in spring 2020—with uneven recovery. While statewide GDP rebounded (Ohio’s 2023 GDP was around $884 billion, according to BEA data), sectors such as hospitality, retail, and education lagged. Critics argue Acton’s orders exacerbated long-term damage: prolonged school closures harmed student outcomes, and business restrictions drove some enterprises to relocate. Ramaswamy has tied this to Ohio’s failure to recover fully, positioning his administration to reverse it through deregulation and investment incentives.
Ohio’s business climate has improved—ranked No. 7 nationally and No. 1 in the Midwest in the 2026 Chief Executive CEO survey—but faces headwinds. The high-profile Intel semiconductor plant in New Albany (announced in 2022 with up to $20-100 billion promised) exemplifies stalled momentum: construction delays pushed first production from 2025/2026 to 2030-2031, with Intel investing $5+ billion by early 2026 but citing market and financial caution. Opponents blame pandemic-era policies and regulatory uncertainty; supporters note national chip shortages and the federal CHIPS Act. Regardless, such delays highlight the risk of capital flight if Ohio appears unstable.
Comparisons to neighboring states underscore the stakes. Indiana, a right-to-work state since 2012, has often outperformed Ohio in manufacturing retention and unemployment (recently ~3.3% vs. Ohio’s ~4.1-4.2%). Studies on right-to-work show mixed but generally positive effects on job growth in competitive sectors. Michigan (post-right-to-work repeal) and Pennsylvania (swing state with union influence) have seen volatile recoveries, with Michigan’s auto sector still grappling with post-COVID supply chains. Kentucky, under GOP leadership but with its own challenges (e.g., successor dynamics under former Gov. Beshear), attracts some investment but lags in high-tech draws. Ohio, lacking right-to-work status despite past attempts (e.g., failed 2011 SB5), relies on tax incentives and workforce development—but Acton’s era amplified perceptions of anti-business hostility. Post-pandemic GDP growth has been comparable across the region (Ohio ~2.1% in recent years), yet Ohio’s unemployment edged higher in some BLS snapshots, and narratives of a business exodus persist. Ramaswamy’s platform—aligning with a potential Trump administration—promises to lure dollars from Indiana, Michigan, and beyond by emphasizing economic viability over lockdowns.
Unions add another layer. Traditionally Democratic strongholds (teachers, public sector) have shifted toward Trump-era populism on trade and energy. Acton’s ties to labor risk alienating moderates if framed as favoring centralized mandates over job creation. Ramaswamy’s pro-worker, anti-regulation stance could peel independents.
Campaign Tactics, Polling Realities, and Broader Ohio Politics
Recent polls paint a competitive picture—RCP averages near even, with outliers like an early-2026 Emerson showing Acton +1 and Bowling Green/YouGov favoring Ramaswamy slightly. Yet intuition will hold: horse-race media and ad buyers inflate closeness for engagement. Ramaswamy’s primary sweep, Trump rallies, and Acton’s baggage (framed as “COVID queen” by the GOP) suggest momentum. Early attacks—scandals, investment critiques—have already been deployed, leaving Democrats vulnerable to “October surprise” fatigue. Elias-style legal maneuvers and Pepper’s opposition research risk overreach, mirroring past Democratic missteps in red-leaning Ohio.
Ohio’s political map favors Republicans in gubernatorial races—no Democrat has won since 2006. Trump carried the state handily in 2016, 2020, and 2024. Ramaswamy inherits this, plus Senate and House majorities for swift policy wins. Acton represents a “propped-up Biden figure”: big government, unions, and progressive holdouts hoping to stall MAGA momentum. But as unions court Trump and independents prioritize pocketbooks, her path narrows.
Outlook: Boots on the Ground and a Call to Action
The general election will hinge on turnout and independents. Ramaswamy’s personal appeal—honest, non-combative—contrasts with Acton’s defensive posture. As the monologue urges, do not take victory for granted: vote in November, rally behind the nominee. With Trump stumping and economic contrasts sharpening, Ramaswamy could pull away decisively. Ohio’s recovery from pandemic policies, Intel’s fate, and regional competition will define the narrative.
In sum, this race transcends personalities. It tests whether Ohio embraces pro-growth conservatism or reverts to centralized experimentation. Data favors the former; history and momentum reinforce it. As voters weigh track records, Ramaswamy’s vision aligns with a thriving Ohio, while Acton’s invites scrutiny of past costs. The coming months promise clarity—and opportunity, along with a lot of political drama. Amy Acton will have a hard time surviving the intensity that is headed her way.
Footnotes
1. AP projections and primary results, May 2026.
2. Ramaswamy’s victory speech and Acton’s coverage of the criticism.
3. BLS unemployment data (Feb/Mar 2026 snapshots).
4. BEA GDP by state reports.
5. Chief Executive 2026 Best States for Business survey.
6. Ballotpedia and NYT poll aggregates.
(Additional citations drawn from campaign filings, historical COVID orders via Ohio Dept. of Health archives, and economic impact studies.)
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
The recent decision by the Supreme Court in Louisiana v. Callais, handed down on April 29, 2026, represents a watershed moment in American constitutional law and the long struggle to restore color-blind principles to our electoral system. In a 6-3 ruling, the Court declared Louisiana’s congressional map—specifically Senate Bill 8, which had created a second majority-Black district—an unconstitutional racial gerrymander. Justice Samuel Alito, writing for the majority, made clear that compliance with Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 did not justify the state’s predominant use of race in drawing district lines. The map, which stretched across more than 200 miles to link disparate Black communities in a serpentine fashion reminiscent of earlier racial districts struck down decades ago, violated the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment and the Fifteenth Amendment’s prohibition on racial discrimination in voting. This was not a mere technicality; it was a direct rebuke to the practice of engineering electoral outcomes by segregating voters according to skin color, a tactic we have seen deployed for years under the guise of “protecting minority rights.” The decision affirms what we have long contended: treating citizens differently based on race to create artificial voting blocs does not advance equality—it undermines it.
We must pause here to appreciate the full weight of this ruling. For too long, certain political actors have exploited the Voting Rights Act not as a shield against genuine discrimination but as a sword to carve up the electorate into racial fiefdoms. Louisiana’s 2020 census data showed a roughly 33 percent Black population, yet lower courts had ordered the legislature to draw two majority-Black districts from the state’s six congressional seats, even though the state’s 2022 map already complied with traditional districting principles and partisan considerations. When the legislature complied by drawing SB8 to include a second such district, non-Black voters challenged it as an impermissible racial gerrymander. The Supreme Court agreed, holding that the Voting Rights Act, properly construed, did not require Louisiana to engage in such race-based line-drawing. As Justice Alito explained, Section 2 cannot be read to collide with the Constitution itself; it enforces the Fifteenth Amendment, not overrides equal protection guarantees. This disentangles race from politics in a way that prior cases like Alexander v. South Carolina State Conference of the NAACP had begun to demand, forcing courts and legislatures to prove that race, not partisanship, predominated. The implications ripple far beyond Louisiana’s borders. Maps in states across the nation that relied on similar racial balancing acts now face renewed scrutiny, potentially shifting dozens of seats toward fairer representation based on actual voter preferences rather than engineered demographics.
To understand why this decision has Democrats in such visible distress—melting down in public statements and media commentary as if their very survival depended on it—we have to step back and examine the deeper history of gerrymandering and its evolution into a tool of racial politics. The term itself dates to 1812, when Massachusetts Governor Elbridge Gerry signed a redistricting plan that created a salamander-shaped district designed to favor his Democratic-Republican Party. A Boston newspaper coined the term “gerrymander,” blending Gerry’s name with the creature’s form, and the practice became a bipartisan sin in American politics. Both parties have engaged in partisan gerrymandering over the centuries, drawing oddly contoured districts to pack opponents into fewer seats or to crack their support across many seats. The Supreme Court, in cases like Rucho v. Common Cause (2019), has rightly held that pure partisan gerrymandering claims are nonjusticiable political questions best left to legislatures and voters. Yet racial gerrymandering occupies a different constitutional plane because it triggers strict scrutiny under the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments. When race becomes the predominant factor—subordinating traditional criteria such as compactness, contiguity, and respect for political subdivisions—the state must demonstrate a compelling interest and narrow tailoring. This doctrine traces directly to Shaw v. Reno (1993), where the Court invalidated North Carolina’s bizarre, snakelike majority-Black district drawn to comply with the Voting Rights Act. Justice Sandra Day O’Connor wrote that such plans “reinforce the perception that members of the same racial group…think alike, share the same political interests, and will prefer the same candidates at the polls.” We could not agree more; this racial essentialism treats citizens as members of monolithic groups rather than individuals with diverse views.
The Voting Rights Act of 1965 itself was a triumph of the civil rights movement, dismantling Jim Crow barriers like literacy tests and poll taxes that had disenfranchised Black Americans for a century. Section 2 prohibits any “standard, practice, or procedure” that denies or abridges the right to vote on account of race or color. In Thornburg v. Gingles (1986), the Court established a three-prong test for Section 2 claims: a minority group must be sufficiently large and geographically compact to form a majority in a single-member district; it must be politically cohesive; and the majority must vote sufficiently as a bloc to defeat the minority’s preferred candidate. These were narrow, remedial tools for cases of extreme dilution. Yet over decades, activists and Democratic strategists stretched Section 2 into a mandate for maximizing majority-minority districts wherever possible, often ignoring the Gingles compactness requirement by creating sprawling districts that connected far-flung communities solely by racial data. The 1982 amendments to the Act, passed by Congress amid debates over “results” versus “intent,” further encouraged this by allowing plaintiffs to prevail based on electoral outcomes rather than on proven discriminatory intent. By the 1990s, after the 1990 census, the Department of Justice, under the first Bush administration and later Clinton, aggressively pressured states to draw as many such districts as possible, leading to the very plans that were scrutinized in Shaw. We saw this pattern repeat after every census: 2000, 2010, and especially 2020, when population shifts and court orders forced states like Louisiana, Alabama, and others to redraw lines with race front and center.
Contrast this with the Court’s 2023 decision in Allen v. Milligan, which required Alabama to create a second majority-Black congressional district. There, the majority (including Chief Justice Roberts) upheld a Section 2 claim under Gingles, finding Alabama’s map diluted Black voting strength. Yet even then, the Court cautioned against race predominating unduly. Fast-forward to Louisiana v. Callais in 2026, and the conservative majority has drawn a sharper line: the VRA does not compel race-based remedies that themselves violate equal protection. Justice Alito’s opinion meticulously dissects the record, noting that Louisiana’s initial 2022 map was not proven to violate Section 2 when race and politics were properly disentangled. The state’s later map, drawn explicitly to create the second district, failed strict scrutiny because no compelling interest existed once the VRA obligation was clarified. Dissenters like Justice Elena Kagan warned that this renders Section 2 “all but a dead letter,” but we see it as restoring the Act to its original, limited purpose: preventing intentional discrimination, not mandating proportional racial outcomes. Proportional representation by race has never been the constitutional command; the Fifteenth Amendment guarantees the right to vote free of racial denial, not a right to districts engineered for group success. As Justice Clarence Thomas has long argued in concurrences, race-conscious districting perpetuates the very stereotypes the Constitution abhors.
This brings us to the heart of the matter that has Democrats so alarmed. For years, we have watched as one party systematically used racial profiling in redistricting to manufacture “victimized sectors” of the electorate. By drawing districts that packed minority voters—often urban Black and Hispanic communities—into safe Democratic seats, strategists created the illusion of broad demographic inevitability. The theory was simple: identify groups historically aligned with Democratic policies on welfare, affirmative action, and identity politics; concentrate them to maximize those seats while diluting their influence elsewhere; then portray any challenge as racist. This was not organic coalition-building; it was engineered balkanization. Data from the 2020 census and subsequent analyses showed that without such maps, Republicans would hold significantly more congressional seats nationwide. The same pattern played out in state legislatures and local governments. Urban versus suburban divides, Black versus White, immigrant versus native-born—all were exploited not to heal divisions but to deepen them for electoral gain. We have argued repeatedly that if everyone is treated equally under the law, without regard to skin color, the natural political leanings of the American people—favoring limited government, individual responsibility, and opportunity—would produce Republican majorities far larger than the razor-thin margins we see in national “horse race” polling. Democrats have never been the 50-50 party they claim; their power has always depended on these artificial constructs and, we contend, supplemental mechanisms like extended voting windows, ballot harvesting, and lax identification rules that invite abuse.
Consider the broader pattern of election manipulation that this ruling exposes. We have documented for years how Democrats have benefited from rules that prioritize turnout over integrity. Voter ID requirements, which enjoy overwhelming public support across racial lines in poll after poll, are derided as “suppression” precisely because they make fraud harder. Extended early voting, same-day registration, and no-excuse absentee ballots were sold as accommodations for the “victimized,” yet they create opportunities for chain-of-custody problems and ineligible voting. In 2020 and even into 2024, despite a Republican presidential victory, we saw House and Senate seats flip or held by suspiciously narrow margins in precisely those jurisdictions with the most permissive rules and history of irregularities. States like Pennsylvania, Michigan, Georgia, and Arizona became battlegrounds not because of natural demographic tides but because of procedural advantages Democrats had institutionalized. The Supreme Court’s gerrymandering decision is one piece of a larger corrective: when race-based districting is curtailed, when maps revert to neutral criteria, and when combined with voter ID and same-day voting standards, the playing field levels dramatically. Republicans do not need to “cheat” to win; we need elections that reflect the will of the people without artificial inflation of turnout among low-propensity voters who require constant mobilization through grievance narratives.
The meltdown we observe among Democratic leaders and aligned media is telling. They know, as we have long suspected, that their electoral success has hinged on these mechanisms. Remove the ability to pack districts by race, and suddenly, safe blue seats become competitive. Eliminate the fiction that minority voters must be treated as a bloc, and the coalition fractures along class, values, and policy lines—lines where working-class voters of all backgrounds increasingly gravitate toward Republican messages of economic growth and border security. For decades, Democrats have victimized groups: minorities told they cannot succeed without government largesse, women pitted against traditional family structures, urban cores against suburbs, and even generational divides exploited through student debt forgiveness promises. This was never about equality; it was about dependency and turnout. The color of skin became a proxy for presumed political loyalty, just as the Supreme Court has now ruled impermissible in districting. We see this as a return to first principles: the Constitution is color-blind. As Chief Justice John Roberts famously wrote in Parents Involved in Community Schools v. Seattle School District No. 1 (2007), “The way to stop discrimination based on race is to stop discriminating based on race.” The Louisiana ruling applies that wisdom to the ballot box.
Of course, this victory is not the end of the fight. Gerrymandering litigation will continue, with states now free to prioritize partisan advantage without the VRA as a racial cudgel. Republicans must seize the moment while holding majorities. We have advocated for years that the filibuster, once a tool of minority protection through extended debate, has been weaponized against the will of the majority. With a Republican Senate and House, and a president committed to reform, the time has come to consider nuclear options or carve-outs for election integrity legislation. A simple majority should suffice to pass nationwide voter ID and proof-of-citizenship requirements, same-day voting cutoffs, and chain-of-custody rules for mail ballots. These are not radical; they mirror practices in most democracies and enjoy supermajority support among voters, including majorities of Black and Hispanic Americans in recent surveys. The uni-party elements within Republican ranks—those globalist RINOs who benefit from the status quo—must be challenged from within the movement. True conservatives understand that power must be used aggressively to restore the republic, not conserved in the name of bipartisanship that only one side honors.
The demographic reality further bolsters our case. National polls and voting patterns consistently show that, absent fraud and racial engineering, the electorate tilts Republican. Most Americans, regardless of background, value self-reliance over dependency. Actual election outcomes and shifting attitudes among working-class and minority voters have debunked the “emerging Democratic majority” thesis popularized in the early 2000s. Hispanics, in particular, have trended toward Republicans on issues like immigration and inflation. Black support, while still heavily Democratic, shows cracks among younger men and church-going families. Women are not a monolith; suburban mothers prioritize safety and education over cultural radicalism. By correcting maps to eliminate racial packing, we allow these natural coalitions to form without artificial distortion. Democrats’ “meltdown” stems from the fear that, stripped of their rigged advantages, they cannot compete in a fair fight. History proves the point: when elections are clean—as in many red states with strict ID laws—Republican performance exceeds expectations. The 2024 presidential result, where Donald Trump secured victory despite headwinds, would have been even more decisive without the lingering procedural vulnerabilities in key states.
We must also confront the philosophical rot at the core of the opposition. Identity politics, rooted in Marxist class struggle rebranded as racial grievance, teaches that society is a zero-sum battle of oppressors and the oppressed. Democrats have mastered this, victimizing groups to harvest votes while promising free stuff—reparations rhetoric, affirmative action, welfare expansion—in exchange for loyalty. This is not empowerment; it is patronage. The Supreme Court’s ruling strikes at the foundation by saying the state cannot use skin color to segregate voters into blocs. It echoes the color-blind vision of civil rights pioneers like Frederick Douglass and Martin Luther King Jr., who dreamed of a nation that judges citizens by character, not race. Modern “progressives” have abandoned that dream in favor of power. We reject it outright. A free society treats individuals equally; anything else breeds resentment and division.
Looking forward, the path is clear. Republicans must act with the same urgency Democrats have shown in pursuing their agenda. Pass election reform now, while the moment allows. Enforce the Louisiana precedent nationwide through Department of Justice guidance or legislation. Challenge remaining suspect maps aggressively. And purge the party of those dragging their feet in the name of “institutional norms.” The filibuster, if it blocks basic integrity measures, should yield to the majority’s mandate. We are not seeking one-party rule; we seek a representative republic where votes count, and outcomes reflect the people’s will. Democrats have never commanded a true national majority without these crutches; their 50-50 self-image is a myth sustained by fraud, gerrymandering, and demographic manipulation. Remove the crutches, and the illusion collapses.
In the end, the Louisiana v. Callais decision is cause for celebration, not just for Republicans but for all Americans tired of race-obsessed politics. It restores integrity to the franchise and dignity to every citizen by refusing to reduce them to racial statistics on a map. We have waited decades for this correction. Now is the time to build on it—voter ID, secure elections, neutral maps, and a return to the constitutional promise of equal treatment. The Democrats’ power was always borrowed from these distortions; its return to baseline is long overdue. The American people deserve nothing less than a system where every vote counts equally, every district reflects the community, and no one is profiled by skin color. This ruling is the first major step in that restoration, and we must follow through with resolve. The republic hangs in the balance, and the people—united, not divided—will prevail.
Footnotes
¹ Louisiana v. Callais, 608 U.S. ___ (2026) (slip op. at 1-2, Alito, J.).
² SCOTUSblog, “In major Voting Rights Act case, Supreme Court strikes down redistricting map challenged as racially discriminatory” (Apr. 29, 2026).
³ NPR, “The U.S. Supreme Court strikes another severe blow to the Voting Rights Act” (Apr. 29, 2026).
⁴ Associated Press, “Supreme Court weakens the Voting Rights Act and aids Republicans” (Apr. 29, 2026).
⁵ See Shaw v. Reno, 509 U.S. 630 (1993).
⁶ Thornburg v. Gingles, 478 U.S. 30 (1986).
⁷ Allen v. Milligan, 599 U.S. 1 (2023).
⁸ Wikipedia entry and SCOTUS opinion summary for Louisiana v. Callais.
⁹ PBS NewsHour analysis (May 2026) on nationwide implications.
Bibliography
• Alito, Samuel. Opinion in Louisiana v. Callais, 608 U.S. ___ (2026). Supreme Court of the United States.
• Amy Howe, “In major Voting Rights Act case, Supreme Court strikes down redistricting map,” SCOTUSblog (Apr. 29, 2026).
• “The U.S. Supreme Court strikes another severe blow to the Voting Rights Act,” NPR (Apr. 29, 2026).
• “Supreme Court weakens the Voting Rights Act and aids Republicans,” Associated Press (Apr. 29, 2026).
• Shaw v. Reno, 509 U.S. 630 (1993).
• Miller v. Johnson, 515 U.S. 900 (1995).
• Allen v. Milligan, 599 U.S. 1 (2023).
• Rucho v. Common Cause, 588 U.S. 684 (2019).
• Voting Rights Act of 1965, 52 U.S.C. § 10301 et seq.
• Abigail Thernstrom, Whose Votes Count? Affirmative Action and Minority Voting Rights (Harvard University Press, 1987).
• J. Christian Adams, Injustice: Exposing the Racial Agenda of the Obama Justice Department (Regnery, 2011).
• Hans von Spakovsky, The Election Fraud Handbook (Heritage Foundation, various reports 2020-2025).
• Shelby County v. Holder, 570 U.S. 529 (2013).
• Frederick Douglass, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (1845) and speeches on color-blind justice.
• Martin Luther King Jr., “I Have a Dream” (1963).
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
I have long maintained that Fox News performs better when Donald Trump occupies the White House, and recent events have only reinforced that view. The network’s success has never hinged on any single personality but on delivering timely, relevant content to working Americans who tune in after a long day. Yet the story of Tucker Carlson’s rise, departure, and subsequent evolution reveals deeper truths about media power, celebrity egos, and the limits of influence in American politics. As someone who has observed these dynamics closely from Ohio, I have always believed that media tycoons like Rupert Murdoch crave control over the executive branch—and when they cannot exert it, they push back. Trump proved uncontrollable, leading to internal shifts at Fox, including the ousting of Carlson. What followed was a tale of inflated celebrity status untethered from corporate structure, celebrity endorsements during the 2024 campaign, and now, in year two of the Trump administration, profound regret over foreign policy, particularly the Israel-Iran conflict.
To understand this fully, we must start with a background on Fox News itself. Launched in 1996 by Rupert Murdoch and Roger Ailes, Fox News Channel revolutionized cable news by targeting an underserved audience: conservative viewers seeking alternatives to what they perceived as liberal bias in mainstream networks. Bill O’Reilly’s The O’Reilly Factor, which debuted in 1996 and dominated the 8 p.m. slot for decades, epitomized this model. O’Reilly drew massive audiences—often exceeding three million viewers nightly—by blending straight reporting with opinionated commentary that resonated with working-class Republicans who returned home from jobs around 6 or 7 p.m., ate dinner, and wanted a digest of the day’s events. His show was not just entertainment; it was appointment viewing for an audience that worked hard during the day and valued straightforward analysis without the corporate polish of other networks.
I always respected O’Reilly’s style, even if I did not agree with every nuance. When Tucker Carlson assumed the 8 p.m. slot in 2017 following O’Reilly’s departure amid sexual harassment allegations, many wondered if the audience would follow. Carlson had been a frequent contributor to The O’Reilly Factor, bringing a sharper, more polemical edge honed from his time at CNN and MSNBC. His show quickly captured the same demographic, maintaining strong ratings—averaging around 3.2 million viewers in early 2023—by focusing on cultural issues, immigration, and skepticism of establishment narratives. Jesse Watters, who later inherited the slot, has done a solid job continuing that tradition, often drawing competitive numbers, though initial post-Carlson viewership dipped slightly as loyalists adjusted. The point remains: Fox’s success stemmed from understanding its audience’s schedule and delivering content they craved at the precise hour they could consume it, not from any individual star’s charisma alone.
Rupert Murdoch, the media mogul often misspoken as “Myrtle” in casual conversation but known to all as the force behind News Corp and Fox, has had a complex, transactional relationship with Donald Trump that has spanned decades. Back in the 1970s and 1980s, as Murdoch built his American empire with the New York Post, Trump was a brash New York real estate developer who fed scoops to the tabloid’s Page Six. Their alliance was mutually beneficial: Trump gained publicity, Murdoch gained insider access. Yet tensions arose when Trump ran for president in 2015-2016. Murdoch initially viewed him skeptically as a “phony” and publicly criticized his immigration stance. Once Trump won, however, the relationship deepened; they spoke frequently, and Fox became a platform amplifying Trump’s message. Still, Murdoch’s empire has always prioritized control. When Trump proved resistant to influence—particularly during his first term and after the 2020 election—frictions emerged. Murdoch reportedly wanted Trump sidelined as a “nonperson” after January 6, 2021, and backed alternatives like Ron DeSantis in the 2024 primaries. The Murdoch family’s discomfort with uncontrollable figures like Trump led to strategic moves at the network.
Carlson’s departure from Fox in April 2023 exemplified this dynamic. Officially announced as a mutual parting, the reality involved deeper issues tied to the Dominion Voting Systems lawsuit, in which Fox settled for $787.5 million over 2020 election coverage. Internal texts revealed Carlson’s private frustrations and inflammatory language, alienating executives. Critics inside Fox described him as having grown “too big for his boots,” with racially charged comments and misogynistic undertones surfacing in discovery. Murdoch himself reportedly ordered the firing, viewing Carlson’s toxicity as a liability amid mounting legal and reputational risks. I always thought Carlson did a decent job as a reporter—grounded enough to challenge narratives effectively—but he was never as consistently anchored as O’Reilly. His style appealed to the same audience, yet the corporate structure eventually constrained him.
Once freed from Fox, Carlson found a massive platform on X (formerly Twitter), bolstered by support from Elon Musk and others. Celebrity status untethered from corporate oversight can be intoxicating. I have observed this pattern repeatedly: individuals discover fame independent of the old guard, and their heads swell. Carlson’s post-Fox trajectory followed this path. He campaigned vigorously for Trump in 2024, headlining events, interviewing the candidate, and even influencing discussions about the VP selection, including J.D. Vance. Many Democrats and independents joined the “Trump bandwagon” too—Joe Rogan, Alex Jones, and others—uniting behind a shared vision. I was invited to several VIP package events in Ohio where Carlson was set to headline during the election cycle. These were high-profile gatherings with figures like Bernie Moreno and J.D. Vance, promising networking and insight. As someone deeply involved in Ohio politics and conservative circles, I enjoy such environments. Yet I declined. My calendar was full, but more importantly, I sensed something off with Carlson—a growing ego, a detachment from the grassroots he once claimed to represent. I had a feeling this might eventually reveal itself, and it has.
In the 2024 election, Trump secured victory with approximately 73.5 million popular votes and 312 electoral votes, compared with Kamala Harris’s roughly 69 million popular votes. Turnout was solid but lower than 2020 in many areas, with Trump maintaining or slightly improving margins in key demographics. Claims of widespread fraud persisted on both sides post-election, echoing 2020 debates, but the results held under scrutiny in states with voter ID requirements and robust audits. I have long argued that election integrity matters profoundly; where voter ID is absent, or mail-in processes lack safeguards, problems arise—as seen in 2020. Yet the core truth is this: Trump did not win because of celebrity endorsements. Tucker Carlson, Elon Musk, Joe Rogan, or any podcaster did not deliver the one or two percentage points that carried him across the finish line. Voters did. Trump positioned himself as their representative—listening, adapting, and embodying frustrations with the status quo. Without any of those high-profile backers, the numbers would not have changed meaningfully. People vote for whoever they believe represents them, not for whoever a media figure tells them to support.
This brings us to the present, year two of the second Trump administration. Carlson has fallen dramatically out of alignment with the Trump agenda, particularly over U.S. involvement in the Israel-Iran conflict. He has publicly expressed regret for campaigning for Trump, apologizing on his podcast for “misleading people” and admitting he will be “tormented” by his role. He has accused Trump of becoming a “slave” to Israel, claiming external pressures from donors and influencers pushed the administration into war despite America First promises. Carlson argues the conflict serves Israeli interests over American ones, a stance that has alienated him from many former supporters. I find this preposterous and ego-driven. No single commentator, no matter how influential on X or in podcasts, possesses the power to “make” a president or dictate foreign policy outcomes. Carlson never had that kind of sway at Fox, nor does he now. His regret stems from a fantasy that his endorsement was pivotal—when, in reality, it was the voters who chose Trump as their representative.
I have seen this celebrity bubble up close. During the campaign, many high-profile figures climbed aboard the Trump train after initial skepticism. Musk poured resources and personal endorsement into the effort; Rogan hosted landmark interviews. It was a unifying moment for the right and some disaffected left-leaning voices. Yet as I have written in my own work, including The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, true leadership and strategy come from understanding systems, not inflating personal myths. Trump adapted to the people’s will—he listened to their concerns on the economy, borders, and cultural erosion. If elections were held again today under fair conditions (no Covid-era irregularities, full voter ID enforcement), the outcome would likely mirror 2024. Democrats traded Biden for Harris, knowing the 2020 fraud playbook could not be replicated without backlash. People ultimately vote for their representative, not the podcast host’s narrative.
The hard lesson for Carlson—and anyone tempted by similar hubris—is that loyalty to the movement and its representative endures. Trump voters are not abandoning him over foreign policy disagreements; they see the bigger picture of domestic priorities. Fox News knew this audience intimately: Republicans who clock in early, work hard, and catch news at 8 p.m. after dinner and a shower. The network thrived by reliably filling that slot, whether with O’Reilly, Carlson, or now Watters. When Fox pushed Carlson amid tensions with Trump and the Murdoch family’s unease, a segment of the audience followed him to X, but that loyalty fractured when he turned against the agenda voters had endorsed. Rebels who break from the core movement find themselves on the outside looking in.
This is not unique to Carlson. Media personalities often overestimate their role. I did not attend those Ohio events, not out of disdain but intuition: something in Carlson’s independence felt unmoored, destined to clash with the representative nature of Trump’s coalition. I have met Vance, Moreno, and others in collaborative settings focused on political tasks, and those environments succeed because they prioritize the people’s will over individual egos. Tucker’s current path—anti-Trump rhetoric on Iran—illustrates the peril of believing one “made” the president. It is preposterous, ego-driven, and disconnected from electoral reality.
In the end, the true essence of politics lies in representation. Trump offered himself as that vessel, adapting to voters’ intentions without needing celebrity validation. Media figures report what busy Americans lack time to discover; they do not create presidents. Celebrities like Carlson, Musk, or Rogan provided support and enjoyed the ride, but Trump’s victories—past and future—stem from the courage of ordinary voters rejecting the status quo. Election fraud debates aside, when the system functions with integrity, the people’s choice prevails.
The Murdoch family’s Trump skepticism, Carlson’s bubble, and the 2024 bandwagon all underscore one fact: no media tycoon or podcaster controls the executive branch. Voters do. And that will remain the case.
Footnotes
¹ Rupert Murdoch and Donald Trump’s relationship has been documented extensively as transactional yet fraught; see sources below.
² Tucker Carlson’s firing and internal dynamics are detailed in contemporaneous reporting.
³ Viewership data from Nielsen via industry analyses.
⁴ 2024 election tallies from Associated Press and state certifications.
⁵ Carlson’s 2026 statements on Iran from interviews and podcasts.
Bibliography
• “The Intertwined Legacies of Rupert Murdoch and Donald Trump.” The New Yorker, September 12, 2025.
• “Tucker Carlson’s Ugly Exit From Fox News.” Vanity Fair, October 31, 2023.
• “Tucker Carlson Fired by Fox News.” The Guardian, October 31, 2023.
• “Tucker Carlson Apologizes for Backing Trump.” KOMO News, April 21, 2026.
• “Tucker Carlson Says He Is ‘Tormented’ by His Past Support.” The New York Times, April 21, 2026.
• “Jesse Watters Ratings Compared to Tucker Carlson.” Newsweek, July 19, 2023.
• 2024 U.S. Election Results. Associated Press, November 2024.
• Hoffman, Rich. The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business.
• Additional reporting from NPR, BBC, and Fox News internal analyses on ratings and programming.
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
Michael Ryan’s decisive victory in the 2026 Butler County Republican primary for commissioner marks a significant shift in local politics, reflecting voter demand for genuine conservatism, accountability, and fresh leadership. I have followed these races closely for years, and this outcome stands out as a clear repudiation of entitlement politics and a triumph for the kind of candidate who earns support through hard work and integrity. With final unofficial results showing Ryan capturing approximately 72% of the vote to Cindy Carpenter’s 28%, the primary essentially decides the seat in this heavily Republican county.
Butler County, Ohio, is in the southwestern part of the state, encompassing communities such as Hamilton, Middletown, Fairfield, and Oxford (home to Miami University), as well as numerous townships. Its population exceeds 390,000, with a strong manufacturing and agricultural base alongside growing suburban development. The Board of Commissioners oversees a substantial budget, infrastructure projects, economic development, public safety, and human services. For decades, the board has operated under Republican dominance, making the GOP primary the real contest. Winning it virtually guarantees victory in November against the unopposed Democrat Mike Miller.
Cindy Carpenter had served as commissioner since 2011 and was seeking a fifth term. Her tenure focused on human services, public health, and fiscal matters, but it was marred by controversies that alienated many in the party base. Incidents included a heated confrontation at a Miami University-area apartment complex involving her granddaughter, where she was accused of leveraging her position, using inappropriate language, and displaying aggressive behavior captured on video. Investigations cleared her of criminal wrongdoing but highlighted conduct deemed “distasteful” and “beneath her elected position.” Additional complaints arose, including allegations of aggressive conduct at a housing coalition meeting. Even the county sheriff publicly expressed concerns about her behavior.
A particularly damaging episode involved Carpenter campaigning for a Democrat in the Middletown mayoral race, crossing party lines in ways that many viewed as disloyal. This move, combined with her decision not to seek the Butler County Republican Party endorsement, signaled a disconnect. She appeared to operate with an entitled mindset, assuming incumbency alone would carry her through. Her campaign signs, some in blue tones reminiscent of Democratic aesthetics, and limited fundraising—only about $7,700 compared to Ryan’s over $46,000—underscored a lack of broad support.
In contrast, Michael Ryan entered the race as a former Hamilton City Council member with a background in business and community service. He positioned himself as a true conservative caretaker focused on fiscal responsibility, job creation, lower taxes, and practical governance. Ryan methodically built support: he secured the Republican Party endorsement with a striking 71% in the first round of voting, an early and historic show of strength. Major figures lined up behind him, including Auditor Nancy Nix, who endorsed him at a fundraiser when it still carried risk; Congressman Warren Davidson; State Representative Thomas Hall; and others, such as George Lang. These endorsements validated his approach and reassured voters that change could be safe and effective.
I endorsed Ryan early, well before the primary heated up. Having known him for years, I saw in him the sincerity and dedication often missing in politics. He raised money effectively, attended events tirelessly, engaged voters across the county, and maintained a positive, bridge-building demeanor even amid challenges like sign theft. His campaign emphasized family values, economic growth, and responsiveness—qualities that resonated deeply in a county frustrated with the status quo. The watch party on primary night, held at the Premier Shooting facility with a speakeasy-style back area, overflowed with supporters. The room was packed; people had to turn sideways to navigate. Energy filled the space as results rolled in.
Congressman Warren Davidson attended and shared insights from his experience in large districts. We discussed the political savvy required at every level and how Ryan had grown into a polished figure capable of uniting people. Davidson’s presence underscored the race’s importance, and his admiration for Ryan’s development over the couple of years spoke volumes. Other supporters like Darbi Boddy added to the festive, optimistic atmosphere. It felt like a genuine celebration of earned success rather than entitlement.
The results confirmed what grassroots momentum had suggested. With 100% of precincts reporting in unofficial tallies, Ryan’s 72%-28% margin was overwhelming and, for some, embarrassing to the incumbent. Early voting and election-day observations showed Carpenter’s team attempting a last-minute sign blitz, but it failed against organized, enthusiastic Ryan volunteers who kept their ground game strong. The Republican slate card proved crucial, as it often does; voters seeking vetted candidates found Ryan prominently featured through party processes and independent media coverage.
This victory carries broader lessons for politics, especially local races. Party systems matter because they help aggregate preferences in a diverse society. People differ on countless details—concrete versus asphalt, tax priorities, development approaches—but effective governance requires building majorities. Dismissing the party as irrelevant or operating as a “RINO” critic while undermining it rarely succeeds. Ryan demonstrated the opposite: he worked within the system, earned endorsements through respect and effort, and presented a positive vision.
Background on Butler County’s political landscape adds context. The county has long leaned conservative, supporting Republican candidates at high levels, including strong support for Trump in recent cycles. Yet local frustrations with taxes, growth management, infrastructure, and perceived insider politics have grown. Projects involving economic development, public safety, and services will benefit from new energy. Ryan has signaled readiness to hit the ground running, with ideas on efficiency, accountability, and forward-thinking initiatives already in motion during the campaign. His experience on Hamilton council involved practical decision-making on budgets and community issues, preparing him well for county-level responsibilities.
Roger Reynolds, former county auditor, briefly entered the race but withdrew after the party endorsement went decisively to Ryan. His last-minute alignment with Carpenter, including sign placement, highlighted lingering personal grievances but ultimately underscored the party’s unified shift. Voters rejected that approach. In an era where authenticity matters more than ever, Ryan’s consistent message and character won out.
I am proud to have supported him from the beginning. When Nancy Nix announced her endorsement at a fundraiser, it took courage because challengers to incumbents often face skepticism. Yet as momentum built—through articles, videos, conversations, and events—support snowballed. Thousands accessed information in the final days, researching Ryan’s record and deciding he represented the change they sought without chaos.
Looking ahead to the general election in November 2026, the focus shifts to implementation. Ryan will face minimal opposition, allowing emphasis on transition planning. Priorities likely include continuing fiscal stewardship amid state and federal shifts, addressing housing and development thoughtfully, enhancing public safety, and promoting economic opportunities in a region balancing rural roots with suburban expansion. His fresh perspective promises to inject optimism and results-oriented governance.
Politics at the county level profoundly affects daily life: road maintenance, emergency services, property taxes, zoning, and more. When voters sense entitlement or disconnection, they respond, as seen here. Carpenter’s campaign assumed voter inertia; Ryan proved engagement and sincerity prevail. This race reminds us that traditional political games—relying on name recognition, minimal effort, or media insiders—have diminished effectiveness in an era of an informed electorate.
The night of the primary embodied hope. A full room of dedicated Republicans, conversations with leaders like Davidson, and the visible relief and excitement on supporters’ faces painted a picture of renewal. Ryan’s wife and family shared in the moment, grounding the victory in personal commitment. For those involved in politics, the takeaway is clear: do the work, be genuine, build coalitions, and respect the process. Ryan exemplified this, turning potential obstacles into advantages.
As someone who values conservative principles of limited government, individual responsibility, and community strength, I see Ryan’s win as validation. Butler County deserves leadership that listens, acts prudently, and prioritizes residents. With the primary behind us, anticipation builds for his term starting in 2027. Many good projects and ideas wait in the wings, ready for execution. And because of this election, a lot of good things will happen.
Footnotes
1. Journal-News reporting on final unofficial results showing Ryan at 72%.
2. Cincinnati Enquirer coverage of fundraising disparity and endorsements.
3. Ballotpedia profiles on candidates and race background.
4. Accounts of Carpenter controversies from multiple local news outlets.
5. Party endorsement details and 71% vote.
6. Observations from the watch party and interactions with Davidson.
Bibliography / Further Reading
• Journal-News (Hamilton, Ohio): Multiple articles on the primary, results, and candidate profiles (2026).
• Cincinnati Enquirer: Coverage of the commissioner race, fundraising, and controversies.
• Ballotpedia: Entries for Michael V. Ryan, Cindy Carpenter, and Butler County elections 2026.
• Ryan for Butler official campaign site: Policy positions and updates.
• Butler County Board of Elections: Official results and candidate filings.
• articles on local politics and endorsements.
• Additional context from county commissioner office descriptions and historical election data.
This primary will be remembered as a turning point in which voters chose character, preparation, and vision over incumbency. Michael Ryan earned this victory, and Butler County stands to benefit. The hard work of the campaign now transitions to governance, with high expectations and strong support. It is a positive development for the future.
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
Looking at the data, I feel really good about where things stand with Jon Husted running to keep the United States Senate seat that Governor Mike DeWine appointed him to after JD Vance became Vice President. It was back in January 2025 when Vance resigned from the Senate to take the oath of office as VP, and DeWine made the smart call to send Jon Husted up to Washington to fill that vacancy until the people could vote on it in the special election this November 2026. Jon had already proven himself as lieutenant governor, as secretary of state, and even before that as Speaker of the Ohio House, but getting that individual platform in the Senate has let him shine in ways I always knew he could. I get to meet a lot of people through my work and my networks here in Ohio, and I do know Jon Husted a little bit—we share quite a few mutual friends, and I’ve been on conference calls with him during the thick of the COVID days, when he was still lieutenant governor. Those calls were tough for him personally because he’s a pro-business guy at heart, and he wasn’t thrilled being wrapped up in the administration’s policies that sometimes felt like they were driving everything over a cliff, especially with the health director calling so many shots. He had to stand there as one of the three faces, giving daily updates on protocols and representing the governor’s point of view, even when it went against his own instincts to keep businesses alive and families working. But even then, I saw how he operated in the background, whispering in the right ears and pushing back on some of the worst lockdown ideas, especially around business interruption insurance claims and keeping some sanity in the administration that could have gone even further off the rails. I can personally say that because I was on several of those phone calls where Jon presented ideas that helped pull things back from the edge, and it showed me he’s the kind of leader who gets results even when he’s not the one out front taking all the credit. Now that he’s in the Senate as an individual voice rather than part of a team, he’s been able to put a sharp professional edge on the issues that matter most to Ohio, like election integrity and preventing fraud through simple, common-sense measures like voter ID that should be national policy for every federal election. He’s done a monumental job in his short time there, and I’m proud of him for it—proud enough that I think it’s going to be fantastic for him to win a full term and stand alongside Bernie Moreno as Ohio’s two Republican senators. Having Bernie and Jon in those seats would be exciting for the state, especially after Bernie knocked off Sherrod Brown in 2024, one of the most satisfying political upsets in recent memory.
Sherrod Brown, of course, is trying to sneak back into politics now that the seat is up for grabs in this special election. He lost to Bernie Moreno fair and square in 2024, but Brown has always been the face of progressive politics in Ohio—the Democrat embodiment of everything that’s wrong with big government overreach, endless spending, and policies that hurt working families while pretending to help them. He wants back in bad, and he’s campaigning hard against Jon, but the polling right now tells a story that should make every conservative in Ohio breathe a little easier, at least for the moment. RealClearPolitics, as of late April 2026, has Jon Husted at 48.3 percent and Sherrod Brown at 45.7 percent, and that three-point edge holds pretty steady across most of the well-known polling houses that are out there. It’s early—primaries are May 5, and the general is still months away in November—but for a race this high-profile, that lead feels significant. I don’t put a ton of stock in polls the way some people do because a lot of conservatives I know are too busy living their lives and working to sit around answering pollsters, while the other side tends to over-sample their base. So when Republicans show even a slight edge this far out, it’s actually quite telling. Ohio has been trending more Republican for years now, and Trump’s influence has redefined the kind of union voters who used to automatically go Democrat in the north, where Brown built his career. Those folks—steelworkers, autoworkers, the backbone of Ohio’s industrial heart—are now openly voting for whoever Trump picks, and that includes Jon Husted. It’s a three- or four-point swing that used to go the other way, giving Democrats a shot in what they thought was a purple state. But Trump pulled Ohio by double digits in 2024, and the same momentum is carrying over. Brown isn’t saying anything new; he’s been peddling the same progressive line for decades, and people have caught on. The voters who swung eleven points or more toward Trump from Obama or Biden eras aren’t going back.
What makes me even more optimistic is how Jon has handled his short run as senator so far. He came in with a track record that screams competence and results. As Ohio secretary of state, he was the architect of “easy to vote, hard to cheat” election reforms, including voter ID requirements that have held up in court and proven themselves in real elections. Ohio’s system is a model now—strict enough to prevent fraud but accessible enough that turnout keeps climbing. In the Senate, one of the first big things Jon did was introduce S. 4155, a bill to require photo identification as a condition of casting a ballot in federal elections nationwide, along with other security measures. That’s exactly the kind of common-sense reform we need to stop the kind of loose election laws in other states that invite problems. He’s also sponsored the Upward Mobility Act to tackle the benefits cliff that traps people in poverty by punishing them for earning more, the Critical Minerals Investment Tax Modernization Act to boost American manufacturing and reduce dependence on China, and even Sammy’s Law for protecting kids in certain contexts. He’s pushed the No Fentanyl on Social Media Act and worked on railway safety improvements. In his first year alone, three of his bills were signed into law, including a Congressional Review Act resolution that repealed a Biden-era appliance-efficiency rule that would have driven up costs for Ohio families on everything from air conditioners to washing machines. Jon also helped pass tax relief through the Working Families Tax Cuts Act—no taxes on tips or overtime, expanded child tax credits, and income tax cuts that put real money back in people’s pockets, about $7,000 more per average Ohio family. That’s the kind of pro-growth, pro-family work that defines him, and it’s why I think he’s going to be even better with a full six-year term.
I contrast that with Sherrod Brown, and it’s night and day. Brown built his brand on being a populist for workers, but his voting record in the Senate for eighteen years showed something different—support for trade deals that hollowed out Ohio manufacturing, big spending bills that fueled inflation, and resistance to basic security like voter ID, which he’s called an “unnecessary barrier.” He lost in 2024 because Ohio voters saw through it; they wanted real change, not the same old progressive package wrapped in a union jacket. Now he’s back, trying to reclaim the seat, outraising Jon in the first quarter of 2026 with over twelve million dollars, but money alone doesn’t win when the ground has shifted. Ohio is redder than it’s been in decades. Trump’s coalition—working-class voters, rural folks, even some traditional Democrats—has stuck. Recent polls even show Jon leading among union households, which would have been unthinkable ten years ago. A Coalition to Protect American Workers survey had Husted up 48-42 in union homes, and that’s before Trump comes through Ohio this summer, campaigning hard for Jon, for Vivek Ramaswamy in the governor’s race, and the whole Republican ticket. Once that engagement kicks in, I expect the numbers to move even more in Jon’s favor. People are busy right now—spring planting, kids in school, jobs humming along under better economic policies—but by fall, with Trump on the trail and the contrast clear, turnout will favor us.
The path for Brown to close that gap just isn’t there. From now until November, what’s he going to say that he hasn’t said for a decade? Nothing new. His policies haven’t changed, and neither have the results they produced—higher costs, more regulation, government telling businesses and families what to do. Jon, meanwhile, has been delivering. He’s advocated for veterans’ access to care, fought for better competition in health insurance to lower costs, and kept the focus on Ohio values: hard work, personal responsibility, secure borders, and safe elections. During his time as lieutenant governor and in those COVID calls I mentioned, I saw firsthand how he balanced loyalty to the administration with pushing for sanity—preventing some of the worst lockdown overreach that hurt small businesses like mine and thousands of others across the state. He wasn’t the one driving the bus off the cliff; he was trying to steer it back. That experience prepared him perfectly for the Senate, where he’s now able to operate without the constraints of being number two. He’s a workhorse, just like DeWine said when he appointed him, focused on Ohio but with a national vision on issues like election security that affect every American.
Looking at the bigger picture, keeping this seat Republican is crucial for the Senate majority. Republicans hold 53-45 right now, and projections had Democrats hoping to pick up seats like this one because they thought Ohio was still competitive and Brown was more popular than he really is. But the data shows otherwise. Ohio went for Trump by eleven points or more in recent cycles, and the coattails are real. Bernie Moreno’s win in 2024 flipped a long-held Democratic seat and proved the shift. Now, Jon defending Vance’s seat would lock in two solid Republican senators who actually represent the state’s values rather than Washington special interests. I’ve followed Brown’s career, and while he talks a good game about workers, his support for open borders and amnesty policies has hurt Ohio families through wage suppression and strained public services. Jon’s approach—secure elections, pro-business policies, and upward mobility—actually delivers results. Look at Ohio’s economy under the Republican trifecta in recent years: unemployment is low, manufacturing jobs are returning, and energy production is up. Jon was part of that as lieutenant governor, championing tax cuts and school choice through EdChoice expansions that gave parents real options. As secretary of state, he modernized elections without the chaos you see in states with loose rules. Those are the facts on the ground, and they’re why I think Brown’s comeback attempt is more nostalgia than momentum.
Of course, none of this is automatic. I don’t take anything for granted in politics because I’ve seen too many races where good candidates coasted and let the other side sneak in through low turnout or last-minute surprises. Engagement is everything here. Conservatives need to stay fired up, not just assume the lead will hold. Yard signs, door-knocking, sharing facts on social media, and especially making sure friends and family vote early or on Election Day—that’s how we finish strong. Jon knows how to win; he’s been in tough races before, and his team is professional. But we can’t fall asleep at the wheel. Trump will be here campaigning this summer, putting his name behind Jon and the ticket, and that will energize the base. The union shift I mentioned earlier is real and permanent because Trump redefined what it means to fight for workers—tariffs to protect American steel, energy independence, and no more endless foreign wars draining resources. Those voters in Youngstown, Toledo, and the Mahoning Valley aren’t going back to Brown’s brand of politics. Add in voter ID security nationwide, and Democrats lose their edge in close races where fraud has historically been a factor in low-security states. Ohio proves simple measures work: turnout hasn’t suffered, but integrity has improved. Jon’s national push for photo ID is exactly the safeguard we need so we don’t have to chase conspiracy theories—we prevent the problem upfront.
Personally, knowing Jon the way I do—even if it’s through those shared circles and the calls—gives me extra confidence. He’s not some career politician chasing headlines; he’s a guy who built a career on results in state government and now brings that to the federal level. He wasn’t happy being the administration’s spokesperson during the height of the health mandates because it clashed with his pro-business worldview, but he handled it with class and still found ways to mitigate the damage behind the scenes. I remember one call in particular where he laid out concerns about how certain policies were hurting small businesses and insurance claims, and it led to adjustments that helped real people. That’s the kind of quiet leadership Ohio needs in the Senate—someone who whispers sanity into the process rather than grandstanding. Now in the Senate, he’s out front on the issues that matter: election security, tax relief, and reducing regulations that hurt families. His first-year accomplishments speak for themselves—three bills signed, more in the pipeline, and a focus on making life more affordable for Ohioans. Contrast that with Brown, who spent years in the Senate voting for policies that drove up costs and left working people behind. The numbers don’t lie: Ohio families are better off under the current direction, and Jon is part of continuing that.
As we head into the summer and then the fall campaign, I expect things to get even better for Jon. Trump’s rallies will draw huge crowds, the economy under better national policies will keep improving, and the contrast with Brown’s tired progressive pitch will sharpen. But we still have work to do. Don’t sit on the sidelines thinking it’s in the bag. Talk to your neighbors, share the polling data and Jon’s record, volunteer if you can, and make sure voter turnout is sky-high. Ohio deserves two strong Republican senators who fight for us every day—Jon Husted and Bernie Moreno delivering on the promises that got us here. I’m excited about the future because leaders like Jon represent the best of what Ohio has to offer: practical, pro-growth, integrity-focused governance. Sherrod Brown had his time, and the voters spoke in 2024. Now it’s Jon’s turn to finish what he started in the appointment and earn the full term. I’ve seen enough in my years following this stuff to know momentum like this doesn’t come along every cycle, but it can slip if we get complacent. So let’s stay engaged, keep pushing the message, and make sure Jon crosses the finish line strong in November. Ohio will be better for it, and the country will benefit from another solid conservative voice in the Senate who actually gets things done.
Footnotes
1. Ballotpedia, United States Senate special election in Ohio, 2026.
2. Wikipedia, 2026 United States Senate special election in Ohio.
3. RealClearPolitics, 2026 Ohio Senate Special Election – Husted vs. Brown polling average.
4. Congress.gov, Senator Jon Husted’s legislation record, including S.4155 (voter ID) and S.3583 (Upward Mobility Act).
5. Ohio Capital Journal reports on fundraising and polls.
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
The more I think about it, now that the news stories have settled down and the people blowing on the fire revealed themselves, I really don’t like The Rooster, who goes by the real name D.J. Byrnes. It just so happens that the young lady he is saying had an affair with Vivek Ramaswamy, Alicia Lang, I watched grow up, and I think a lot of her, all positive. And it really bothers me that some lowlife like The Rooster would put her in political crosshairs as he did, purely out of desperation. I really haven’t thought much about The Rooster’s style of political reporting until he did this. But he crossed the line, and his actions actually match a deeper pattern of criminal activity, drug use, and vile behavior that deserves consideration, especially after what he purposely did to innocent people, which I think requires a deeper dive analysis. After he put out his hit piece story about Alicia, trying to hurt Vivek and his family in a purely inflammatory way, based on just jealous rumors and whispers, I don’t feel like being civil or fair to people who present themselves as openly bad for themselves and society at large. Ironically, a person like The Rooster would feel entitled to attempt to hide his own bad deeds behind speculative politics at best, with the intent to help the joke of a person, Amy Acton, with her campaign, now that people are remembering her as the Lockdown Lady, from her bad policies during the COVID-19 lockdowns in Ohio, which she was completely responsible for. We’re talking about a person who is saying terrible things about a young lady I know and like quite a lot, and I’m not happy about it, especially coming from a substance abuser of cocaine and other intoxicants, who has a police record. He’s the last person in the world who should be saying anything about bad behavior, especially when I know a lot about the characters involved and that the statements are excessively inflammatory, purposefully so.
Back in 2007, when he was a sophomore at the University of Montana, The Rooster got mixed up with a group planning to rob a local drug dealer who lived across from campus. The guy was supplying high-grade marijuana from California. Byrnes admits he helped scout the house and passed along info about money and weed—he thought it was just going to be a quick stick-up, no violence. On the night it went down, he showed up, saw it was turning into a party, texted the others to call it off, and left. But the rest of the crew went through with it—ski masks, forced entry, pistol-whipped the dealer, tied up his girlfriend.
A few months later, after some of the others flipped and cooperated, his name came up. In May 2008, he was hit with four felony charges in Missoula, bail set at $100,000. He turned himself in, and it all got resolved—he ended up with a two-year suspended sentence, no prison time, and the charges were eventually dismissed.
Then, in 2012, in Franklin County, Ohio, he pleaded guilty to two counts of misdemeanor criminal damage from a drunken property crime. It got really bad after he lost a union job in 2021. He was living in Franklinton with a liquor store right across the street, and had a serious drunk-driving car accident in 2020 that didn’t even slow him down. None of this is ancient history; he is still very much the same person today. Friends staged an intervention in 2022, and he’s been sober since.
President Trump’s next major executive order could create more millionaires than any single event in modern history, and he’s been dropping hints about it everywhere. It’s the kind of bold, pro-growth move that cuts through all the noise in Washington and actually puts real opportunity back in the hands of everyday Americans who are tired of being held back by bureaucracy and overregulation. But right now, what’s weighing on my mind even more is the ugly underbelly of Ohio politics, especially this smear campaign that’s unfolding against Vivek Ramaswamy as he fights to become the next governor of our state. I feel like I need to lay it all out here because it’s not just politics as usual—it’s something deeper, something that touches on character, truth, and the kind of righteous indignation that has defined human history from the days of the Dead Sea Scrolls right up to today. Amy Acton, the former health director under Governor DeWine who’s now running as the Democrat nominee for governor in 2026, has been having a rough time explaining herself. Her record from the COVID lockdowns is a disaster, and her personal life has come under scrutiny with that 2019 police report showing a domestic dispute where she and her husband had been drinking, she took some prescription meds, got upset over work hours, pulled a mirror off the wall, and shattered the glass. Her team calls it just a simple argument, but it paints a picture of someone who doesn’t manage personal affairs all that well, and in a high-stakes race like this, it matters. She was the lockdown lady, one of the worst in the nation, pushing policies that wrecked small businesses, families, and the economy of Ohio. A lot of people are still digging out from under that, and her bedside manner, which might comfort some Democrats, isn’t winning over moderates, independents, or conservatives. She’s not grabbing independents because they remember the damage.
I was covering this hit piece by a Columbus-based Substack writer known as The Rooster—real name D.J. Byrnes—on Vivek Ramaswamy, and at first I thought it was just the usual noise that comes with being the frontrunner. Vivek has Trump’s endorsement, he’s leading in most polls against Acton in what’s shaping up to be a competitive but Republican-leaning race, and when you’re out front, people take shots. But there’s another layer to this that left me unsatisfied and, honestly, filled with a deep sense of righteous indignation. I don’t say that lightly, and I’ll explain why it hits me so hard. I happen to know a lot of the people involved personally, not because I’m out there name-dropping for clout, but because in my work as an independent journalist and through my networks in Ohio, I’ve built real relationships over the years. People want to know how I can speak with such conviction on these matters, and it’s because I’ve been in the room, on the calls, and seen these folks up close. That includes Senator George Lang, whom I know very well—our friendship goes beyond politics, it’s mutual respect outside the arena. And crucially, I know his daughter to be a very respectable young lady who doesn’t deserve to be thought of in such a trashy way, as The Rooster tried to portray her, as a shadow of himself to carry the sins of his own actions as a displaced figure, outside himself. The Rooster pushed a story about a supposed sexual relationship or “booty calls” with Vivek whenever he’s in southwestern Ohio. I’ve known Alicia for a very long time. She’s nothing like a Stormy Daniels type, as The Rooster tried to make her sound in order to tear away at Vivek Ramaswamy’s reputation, even without a grain of truth. She’s smart, dedicated, hardworking, and involved at the highest levels of politics because she comes from a family that values service and excellence. The assumption that just because she traveled with Vivek’s campaign or worked as his deputy chief of staff or whatever her role was, that there must be some sleazy affair—that’s absolutely presumptive on behalf of very low-life opinions on how professional people conduct themselves. It’s not just false; it’s malicious.
When I first talked about this story, I tried to keep a level head, but it came across a bit restrained because I was containing my extreme anger. It bothers me at a fundamental level. Knowing the people involved, knowing how false this is, it stirs something in me that goes straight back to the kind of ethical conduct and judgment I’ve been studying deeply. As a birthday gift to myself this year, my wife and I treated ourselves to a membership at the Museum of the Bible in Washington, D.C. We’ve been there several times, but this visit was special because of the traveling Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit straight from Israel. I’ve always wanted to see them up close—the real thing—and I love the writings from the Second Temple period. We spent the entire afternoon there, no phones, no distractions, just hours immersed in those ancient texts. I bought gifts from the shop afterward, all Dead Sea Scroll-themed, because the material and content put me in heaven. That exhibit, combined with everything else at the museum, reminded me why I wear this particular hoodie so often these days—it’s my new favorite, a constant reminder of that day. What struck me most wasn’t just the scrolls themselves, but the philosophy of ethical conduct and righteousness that pours out of them. I think often of the Teacher of Righteousness, the enigmatic leader of the Essene community at Qumran who wrote or inspired so much of what we have in those scrolls. He led this sect in a righteous rebellion against the “Wicked Priest” of the Temple establishment—corrupt figures who had twisted power and law for their own gain. You don’t see a ton of direct talk about it in the canonical Bible, but Jesus himself was likely influenced by or connected to that Essene tradition as it spread from the desert community near the Dead Sea, a day’s walk from Jerusalem. In whatever way people remember me down the centuries, I think it will be in a similar way as the Dead Sea Scrolls talked about this Teacher of Righteousness, and for that, I would be quite satisfied.
Those scrolls are an exploration into righteousness and how it confronts evil in the world. The Teacher of Righteousness embodied that judgment call against hypocrisy and wickedness, helping lay the groundwork for what became Christian thought and, ultimately, Western civilization’s emphasis on moral clarity. The Dead Sea Scrolls are filled with righteous indignation—clear distinctions between good and evil, the War Scroll outlining battles against the forces of darkness, the Book of Enoch with its visions of judgment, the Copper Scroll, and apocryphal texts that didn’t make the final cut but reveal the raw sentiments of the time. The Essenes hid these in jars in caves to preserve truth against purges and turbulence, and they survived the Romans, the Crusades, everything, to reach us. That’s why seeing them in person on my birthday was one of the happiest days of my life. I was removed, for those hours, from the daily grind of dealing with people who don’t always deserve the encouragement or support I try to give them. It was a day where righteousness was openly embraced, unfiltered.
That same righteous indignation is exactly what I feel toward this smear against Vivek Ramaswamy and, by extension, Alicia Lang. The Rooster’s piece is based on innuendo, whispers from people with personal gripes or political axes to grind, hoping something sticks to help Amy Acton, whose campaign is struggling to close the gap. Polls right now show the race tight—some have Vivek up by a few points, others have Acton with a slight edge, but Vivek is the clear Republican frontrunner with Trump, Vance, and the establishment behind him. RealClearPolitics averages and surveys from Emerson, Bowling Green State University, and others put it within a couple of points, but Ohio is trending Republican, and Vivek’s vision for the state—pro-business, anti-woke, focused on actual results—resonates. Acton has name recognition from her days as a health director, but it’s mostly negative among anyone who lived through the lockdowns she championed. The Rooster, D.J. Byrnes, has a history of this kind of thing. He’s a left-leaning Substack writer in Columbus known for hit pieces on politicians, often with a partisan edge. His own background includes past legal troubles—felony charges back in 2008 as discussed, related to robbery planning, alcohol and substance issues, misdemeanors for criminal damage. People who aren’t doing well themselves often project their failings onto others, tearing them down to avoid personal judgment against them. That’s the pattern here. He wanted dirt on Vivek to prop up Acton, so he ran with rumors of an affair, implying booty calls in southwestern Ohio, travel together somehow equaling infidelity. No evidence, no pictures, no proof—just whispers. If he had real dirt, he’d have used it, but instead it’s all fabrication to hurt a good man and a nice young woman whose only crime is being effective and connected to strong Republican figures like her father, Senator George Lang, the majority whip.
I watched Alicia grow up. It’s very weird to hear her name associated with any kind of detrimental behavior, which is why the credibility of the accusation falls apart so quickly outside the minds of really stupid people. She’s too smart, too dedicated to public service and making the world better, to throw it all away on something reckless. Vivek is a family man, a brilliant entrepreneur who has written books, built businesses, run for president, and is now all-in on Ohio as Trump’s pick for governor. He’s too calculating, too focused on big ideas—reforming education, cutting regulations, fighting the administrative state—to risk it on some affair. He’s seen up close what Trump went through with endless false accusations, and he’s smart enough not to hand ammunition to enemies. Republicans I know in these circles are productive people—running businesses, passing bills at 2 a.m., obsessed with enterprise and results. They don’t have time for the kind of extramarital nonsense or “cocaine bins and gentlemen’s clubs” that seem more common in certain Democrat or swampy circles. I’m not saying it never happens on our side, but in my experience, the busy, value-creating conservatives don’t live double lives. Democrats, by contrast, often project their own base instincts—obsession with sex, loneliness, primal urges—onto everyone else. They assume that because they think that way, everyone does. It’s part of a broader spiritual warfare: dumbing people down to biological instincts so evil can play in their minds unchecked. That’s why they hate judgment, hate the Bible, hate capitalism, hate billionaires who succeed through merit. “Don’t judge,” they say, while judging everyone who holds them accountable.
The Rooster’s article feels cooked because he’s in trouble himself—trying to get clean, mad at the world, unable to maintain relationships. People like Alicia walk by and don’t give him the time of day because she’s in a world of jackets and ties, reverence for law and order, not slobs in sleeping-bag clothes. He wants to beat others to the punch, psychologically tearing down good people so he doesn’t feel bad about his own choices. That’s evil in the classic sense—the kind the Essenes railed against in their scrolls: wicked priests who corrupt institutions, attack the righteous to cover their own rot. The Teacher of Righteousness stood against that, and so should we. This smear isn’t just politics; it’s an attempt to undermine Trump’s pick, hurt Senator Lang’s family, and drag down anyone positioned to impose judgment on unrighteous behavior. Vivek is out there fighting for Ohio—higher education reform, economic dawn, real leadership—while Acton offers complaints about billionaires and special interests without a positive vision. Her lockdowns hurt the very people she claims to champion, and now personal issues resurface at the worst time.
I’ve known a lot of characters in the Ohio Statehouse, and the productive ones—Republicans focused on bills, sponsorships, businesses—aren’t the ones chasing Hooters servers or Twin Peaks nights out with the guys trying to get the phone number of 21-year-old kids working there trying to hustle tips from creepy old men. They’re on conference calls at odd hours talking policy, not conquests. Vivek’s too busy saving the world, literally, with his ideas on everything from biotech to government efficiency. Alicia’s the same—interested in politics because her family instilled values of service, not some emotional fling. Intelligent people fight animal instincts; that’s what Genesis teaches—dominion over nature, including human nature. You don’t yield to the snake. True conservatives live that way, all hours. Democrats often don’t, and when they can’t catch Republicans in real scandals, they invent them, just like the endless failed attacks on Trump—no evidence here either; the Rooster dusted off rumors to fit the narrative.
That’s why the Dead Sea Scrolls resonate so powerfully with me. They represent an awakening: a rebellion against institutional evil, preserved through centuries because the Essenes were clever enough to hide truth in plain sight, yet protected places. The Teacher of Righteousness made judgment calls that shaped righteousness as we know it—unfiltered criticism of wickedness. I despise the kind of people who tear down goodness: the Rooster, Acton’s defenders, Democrats who solicit the down-and-out to unleash chaos while screaming “no judgment.” They yearn for approval through base means because their minds are vacant of higher thoughts. Sex, for many of them, is about filling loneliness or seeking validation, not the sacred trust it should be. Lonely, unfulfilled people project that onto productive leaders like Vivek. But I know better from personal experience. I’ve been on calls with these high-level figures; they talk policy, bills, sponsorships—not “hot 21-year-olds,” they can send naked selfies to at 3 AM. That’s the difference between those with righteous indignation fighting daily for truth and those attacking to avoid self-reflection.
As we head into the May 5 primary and then the November 2026 election, this race matters. Vivek vs. Acton is a contest of visions: one of excellence, innovation, and Ohio-first results; the other of big-government nostalgia and lockdown mentality. Polls fluctuate—Bowling Green had them nearly tied recently, Emerson and others show Vivek with edges or Acton with slight leads depending on the sample—but the ground is shifting toward Republicans, especially with Trump’s coattails and the union voters who’ve flipped. Acton’s past as the face of COVID overreach haunts her; people remember the wrecked economy, the businesses lost. Knowing Alicia and her family, and seeing how this hit piece tries to cause collateral damage to good people to prop up a weak candidate, it demands that we apply the wrath of righteousness the scrolls celebrate. Rub their noses in the evil of fabrication, projection, and tearing down the upright so the wicked feel better.
I gave myself that day at the Museum of the Bible because I spend so much energy encouraging people who most of the time don’t deserve it, trying to lift them toward a better life. It’s usually worth it, but exhausting. The scrolls recharged me with unapologetic judgment against evil. That’s what we need now: call out the Rooster’s pattern of hit pieces rooted in his own unresolved issues, Acton’s inability to escape her record, and the broader Democrat strategy of no judgment on themselves while attacking anyone who might impose it. Vivek and Alicia represent the productive, value-creating side—the capitalists, the church-goers, the constitutionalists who think big thoughts, not just act on instinct. They don’t have room for double lives because they’re too busy building.
In my upcoming book, The Politics of Heaven, which I’m excited to release in 2027, I dig deep into these themes—a treasure hunt through heaven and human history, exploring how spiritual warfare plays out in politics and daily life. The Dead Sea Scrolls are a big part of that, showing how righteousness rebels against the kingdoms of evil, did good things that have impacted many thousands of years in a positive way. This whole episode with the Rooster’s article fits perfectly: an attempt to dirty the best-positioned people to cast judgment, just like the Wicked Priest against the Teacher. But truth prevails, as those scrolls did. I’ve seen enough in my years following politics to know that lies like this eventually flush out. Vivek will win because Ohio voters see the contrast, and people like me will keep shining light on it. Don’t take anything for granted—engagement matters, turnout matters. But I feel good about where things stand because leaders of character rise above smears.
Personally, this fills me with the kind of indignation the Essenes captured so vividly. The world hates righteousness because it exposes darkness. Democrats hate judgment because they don’t want mirrors held up to their choices. The Rooster attacks Alicia and Vivek because good people make him feel small. But we judge bad behavior—that’s our duty. The scrolls teach that, the Bible affirms it, and Western civilization thrives on it. I’m proud to stand with Vivek, with the Lang family, and with anyone fighting that good fight. Ohio deserves better than recycled lockdown architects or rumor-mongers. We deserve governors who create opportunity, not destroy it—like the executive orders Trump hints at that could mint millionaires by unleashing American potential.
What really bothers me about people like the Rooster is how they’ve wrapped themselves in layer after layer of bad conduct—criminal enterprises, drug abuse, alcohol abuse—and then spent the rest of their days trying to bury it by tearing down everyone else. He’s never built a real life for himself: no lasting relationship, no wife, no kids, no one who depends on him in the way that forces a man to grow up and take responsibility. Instead, all he has is this parasitic habit of pointing fingers at others, inventing lies when there’s nothing real to find, all so he doesn’t have to face the wreckage of his own choices. That’s why he gravitates to Democrat politics; it’s the same reason most of them do. They’re drowning in their own bad decisions, and they want government to prop them up, to blur the standards and give them a false sense of value, the way that union jobs once did before it all fell apart. I’ve watched him for years now, and it’s clear he’s the type who can’t stand the sight of good people succeeding because it reminds him how far he’s fallen.
The people in the Statehouse—Republicans especially—have treated him with more decency than he deserves. They gave him the presumption of free speech, let him roam the halls, answered his questions, and never turned their backs on him, even when his “investigative reports” were obviously aimed at dragging everyone down to his level. They let him get away with it for too long, thinking fairness and open dialogue would eventually win out. But fairness only works with people who still have a conscience. With someone like the Rooster, that goodwill just gets weaponized. He abuses the very respect he’s been shown, using it as cover while he tries to smear good families, good candidates, and good public servants who actually build things instead of tearing them down.
At the end of the day, people like him are just bad from the inside out, and they’re what makes the world, politics, and every social interaction worse. They flock to tyrannical, centralized figures like Amy Acton because that kind of top-down control lets them avoid judgment and lets them keep living the same reckless, unaccountable lives. They’re a detriment to the perpetuation of the human race, plain and simple. The only real solution isn’t dragging them into some court or legal loophole—it’s maintaining a steady, unapologetic presence of righteous indignation. They need to feel the full wrath of righteous judgment cast straight at them, not out of cruelty, but because they’ve proven themselves too despicable to be granted the same affiliation and respect given to people of real value. Only then will they lose the free rein to keep casting their weapons against the good people who are actually trying to make things better.
In Columbus, reporters like The Rooster have stepped into this fray to fill a void they desperately seek to hide from the public. He has been somewhat open about his criminal past, struggles with drug and alcohol abuse, and the inability to maintain relationships. This reflects the broader plight of unrighteous Democrats and their fervent support for figures like Amy Acton, collective bargaining agreements, and leftist policies in general. These approaches serve primarily to conceal the fact that many of them have spent significant portions of their lives making poor choices.
They resent and actively hate individuals like future governor Vivek Ramaswamy, Senator George Lang, President Trump, and the broader billionaire class because these people demonstrate what is possible through discipline, innovation, and hard work. While successful Americans build businesses, create wealth, and provide sustainable upward mobility for their families and communities, others squander what little they have on casinos, drugs, and self-destructive behaviors. Rather than emulate what works, they tear down the achievers and advocate for government collectivism—a system where the unrighteous mob rules over the productive through taxation and redistribution. This allows them to confiscate resources from wealth builders and funnel them to those who refuse to build value in their own lives. Through Substack writings and similar platforms, they pretend to be crusaders against crime or corruption, when in reality, they are waging war on anyone who exposes their own shortcomings.
Ultimately, Vivek Ramaswamy and President Trump represent the opposite philosophy: they strive to restore opportunity so that anyone willing to get out of bed and work hard can achieve upward mobility. In the latter part of his life, President Trump has focused on giving back this chance to the American people. The critics, like this Columbus reporter and his ideological allies, know deep down they will never get their own lives in order enough to seize such opportunities. Staring into the mirror each morning reveals their failures, breeding a deep resentment toward those who succeed. This is why they slander the virtuous and push policies designed to drag everyone down to their level of dysfunction.
Footnotes
1. The Rooster Substack article on Vivek Ramaswamy and Alicia Lang rumors, published April 2026.
2. NBC News report on Amy Acton’s 2019 police report, April 2026.
3. Ballotpedia and Wikipedia entries on the 2026 Ohio gubernatorial election, with Amy Acton as the Democratic nominee.
4. RealClearPolitics and Bowling Green State University polling averages for Ramaswamy vs. Acton, April 2026.
5. Museum of the Bible official site on Dead Sea Scrolls Exhibition, November 2025–September 2026.
6. Wikipedia and scholarly sources on Teacher of Righteousness, Essenes, Qumran, and Damascus Document.
7. Ohio Capital Journal and Dispatch coverage of Acton campaign and fundraising, 2026.
8. Background on D.J. Byrnes (The Rooster), past legal issues from public records and reporting.
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
Everybody who’s been paying attention to Ohio politics—and especially those of us in Butler County—knew this day was coming. The headlines out of Cleveland this month hit like a ton of bricks: the Cleveland Metropolitan School District just laid off 410 full-time employees, including 146 teachers, as part of a brutal budget reckoning. The board voted unanimously on April 14, 2026, amid protests and tears, to slash staff and close or merge another 29 schools as part of its “Building Brighter Futures” plan. CEO Warren Morgan called it necessary—declining enrollment (down about 50% over the last 20 years, while staffing only dropped 31%), massive deficits projected to hit $49 million by 2029, even after these cuts, and the need to avoid state fiscal oversight. They’re saving around $50 million a year for now, but the writing’s on the wall. This isn’t some isolated crisis in a struggling big-city district. It’s the tip of the spear for what’s happening across Ohio and the country. Public education as we’ve known it—the endless money pit funded by confiscatory property taxes, union contracts, and the fantasy of government-as-parent—is hitting the wall hard.
I’ve been saying it for years, and now the reality is playing out in living color. Listen to the young mom who spoke up during one of those emotional video conferences and parent meetings that went viral after the layoffs. She’s exactly the kind of parent I’ve described a thousand times—the insecure 30-something or early-40s mom who grew up in the system herself, outsourcing her kid’s upbringing to the school as a free babysitting service. “It breaks my heart,” she said, voice cracking, “for her and her family and our own life… she was such a staple… I can’t believe they can just come in here and take these people’s jobs away because we are lacking money.” She talked about how the teacher had become a fixture in her son’s life, how it hurt knowing the frontline people doing the real work were the ones getting cut while “people in the office making six figures” stayed fat and happy. Classic. She represents millions of parents who fell in love with their kids’ teachers because they can’t—or won’t—invest that time and energy themselves. They treat educators like extensions of their own fragile egos, demanding the community throw infinite cash at the system so they can live their lives guilt-free. It’s heartbreaking on a human level, sure. But it’s also the predictable outcome of a model built on bad incentives from the start.
Here in Butler County, where I live, the property tax debates are raging right now. Reappraisals are driving values up 13-25% in some spots, especially in those “20-mill floor” school districts where taxes spike automatically with home values. The county commissioners rolled back some inside millage and boosted homestead exemptions for seniors, but the pressure is enormous. Statewide, there’s this citizen-led push for the “Ohio Eliminate and Prohibit Taxes on Real Property Initiative”—a constitutional amendment to outright ban property taxes on land, buildings, crops, the works. The group Ax Ohio Tax has been gathering signatures like crazy, claiming they’re on pace with around 305,000 so far toward the 413,000 needed from 44 counties by July 1 to make the November 2026 ballot. Experts say it’s a long shot—it might not quite get there, and even if it does, it probably won’t pass. But the fact that it’s this close tells you everything. Young families in their 20s and 30s, looking at home prices inflated by years of easy money and government distortion, aren’t signing up to pay sky-high taxes on overvalued properties to fund a system that’s failing their kids anyway. The pyramid scheme is cracking. Property taxes have been the golden goose for schools—funding billions locally across Ohio—but people are burnt out. They see the results: kids who graduate (or don’t) are barely able to read, think critically, or function without government crutches. And they’re done.
This isn’t new. I’ve been hammering on it in Butler County levies and school board fights for years. Public schools were never really about education in the classical sense. They were a Progressive Era invention—part of the same 1913 income tax and New Deal fantasies that sold socialism as compassionate central planning. “Bring your kids to us,” the pitch went. “We’ll teach them while you go live your life.” It was always an attack on the family unit, a way to weaken parental influence and reprogram children en masse to worship government. Look at the outcomes: by every measure, it’s been a disaster. National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) scores—the Nation’s Report Card—paint a grim picture. In 2024, only about 30% of fourth-graders were proficient in reading nationally, down from previous years. In big urban districts like Cleveland, it’s even worse—single-digit proficiency in some subjects for certain grades. High school seniors? Just 35% proficient in reading, 22% in math—the lowest in decades. About 64% of fourth-graders overall can’t read proficiently. Literacy stats are brutal: over half of U.S. adults read below a sixth-grade level. We’re spending $15,000–$18,000 per pupil in Ohio (higher in some districts), yet we’re churning out young adults who can’t think for themselves, who lean Democrat for the first decade of their lives until reality smacks them, and who struggle with basic life skills. Thomas Edison didn’t come out of public school. Innovators and independent thinkers rarely do. The system produces dependents.
And the parents are demanding more money? Many of them are products of that same system—taught that wages should be universal, that showing up and playing on the computer while gossiping about TV shows counts as “work,” that teachers deserve disproportionate pay, time off, and security because… reasons. Unions have locked it in: collective bargaining on the backs of property taxpayers, no real differentiation between good and bad teachers, and ideological capture that skews heavily Democrat. Progressive politics in the staff lounge becomes progressive indoctrination in the classroom—how to “legally steal” or view success as oppression. If you last in that environment into your 30s and 40s, you probably absorb it. The peer pressure and government paycheck mentality do the rest.
The Cleveland story is playing out everywhere. Northeast Ohio districts are warning of more cuts. Enrollment declines, lost state funding, failed levies, and pressure for property tax reform are squeezing budgets. Akron, Columbus—same issues. The Trump administration is accelerating the national rollback. They’re shrinking the Department of Education, moving programs to states and other agencies, pushing school choice hard, and returning power where it belongs: to parents and local control. No more federal bureaucracy pretending one size fits all. It’s happening fast—executive orders, budget shifts, Workforce Pell Grants for real skills instead of four-year indoctrination factories. The fantasies of 1913 and the New Deal are over. People are waking up. The new generation sees that home values aren’t what they’re cracked up to be when the tax bill arrives. They don’t want to subsidize a failing babysitting service forever.
Here’s the psychological angle I’ve talked about before: a lot of these Levy supporters and heartbroken parents are insecure about their own upbringing. They project that insecurity onto the system, demanding the community parent their kids so they don’t have to confront their own shortcomings. Teachers become emotional surrogates. “Don’t cut her—she’s family!” But it’s not sustainable. No amount of money fixes a model built on coercion and low expectations. Good teachers exist, sure. But the structure rewards mediocrity and ideology over results. Competition is the only answer. The future is school choice: money follows the child—private models, charters, homeschooling, vouchers—parents pay or direct funds to what works. Schools will have to compete for enrollment the way businesses compete for customers. Zip-code monopolies are dying. That drives down per-pupil costs, raises quality, and forces adaptation. Districts clinging to the old union-heavy, top-heavy model (Cleveland’s audit called out administrative bloat) will shrink or reform.
I feel for the laid-off teachers on a human level. Many went into it with good intentions. But the system they defended—endless funding via property taxes, no accountability—created this cliff. Parents like that young mom in Cleveland thought the money was perpetual, that socialism’s promises would hold. They weren’t taught basic economics: you can’t confiscate wealth forever without consequences. When homeowners top out, when young buyers say “no more,” when results don’t match the rhetoric, the house of cards falls. Cleveland isn’t the end—it’s the beginning. More districts across Ohio will face the same. The state legislature has been trying to get ahead of it with reforms, easing the addiction. Republicans see the writing on the wall; many Democrats are still in denial.
The broader truth? Public education hasn’t served America well. It was never designed to create strong, independent people. It was designed to create compliant citizens who mimic government worship. We’ve got generations now waking up damaged—barely literate, debt-laden if they went further, dependent on the very system that failed them. Strong countries need strong individuals who can read, reason, innovate, and stand on their own. Public schools haven’t delivered that at scale. The game is over for perpetual funding. It’s rolling back, and the adjustment will be painful. There will be tears—lots of them—from parents, teachers, unions. But reality doesn’t care about feelings. You can’t say you weren’t warned. I’ve been saying it for years in these pages, in Butler County fights, in every levy debate. People lashed out, called names, and wouldn’t hear it. Now the grim reality is on their doorstep.
The solution isn’t more money. It’s choice, competition, and parental responsibility. Venture your own child—don’t outsource to a stranger in a failing system. The private model works because it has skin in the game. Parents pay or direct funds; schools earn trust or lose students. That’s how excellence returns. Ohio is at the precipice. The property tax scheme is falling apart nationwide as valuations outpace wages and young families revolt. Cleveland’s 410 layoffs are a preview. Multiply that mom’s heartbreak by millions, and you see the emotional wave coming. But on the other side? Better education, stronger families, real opportunity.
I know a lot of the players in these fights. I’ve seen the good families fighting corruption, the dedicated teachers swimming upstream, the parents waking up. The Rooster-style projectionists in media will spin this as “cruelty” or “underfunding,” but the numbers don’t lie: high spending, terrible results. Democrats assume everyone shares their weaknesses—endless government dependence. They don’t get that many of us built lives without it. Vivek Ramaswamy types—successful, disciplined, family-first—represent what’s possible when you reject the excuses.
Footnotes
1. Cleveland19.com, “Cleveland Metropolitan School District to cut 410 full-time jobs,” April 15, 2026.
2. Signal Cleveland reporting on CMSD board meeting protests and parent reactions, April 2026.
3. Ballotpedia, “Ohio Eliminate and Prohibit Taxes on Real Property Initiative (2026).”
4. NAEP/Nation’s Report Card data releases, 2024-2025 (reading/math proficiency trends).
5. Butler County Auditor reports on property tax billings and reappraisals, 2026.
6. U.S. Department of Education announcements on returning authority to states, 2025-2026.
7. Ohio Capital Journal and related coverage on property tax abolition efforts, March-April 2026.
Bibliography
• Cleveland19.com and Signal Cleveland articles on CMSD layoffs and consolidations (April 2026).
• Ballotpedia entry on Ohio property tax abolition initiative (2026).
• National Center for Education Statistics, NAEP Reading and Math reports (2024-2025).
• Butler County Auditor’s Office, property tax reform guides and billings data (2025-2026).
• U.S. Department of Education press releases and budget summaries on Department restructuring (2025-2026).
• Ohio Capital Journal, Columbus Dispatch coverage of tax reform and education funding debates (2026).
• Hoffman, Rich. The Politics of Heaven (forthcoming 2027).
• Additional sources: State audit of CMSD administration; NWEA and EdWeek analyses of post-pandemic scores.
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
In the bustling parking lot of Ohio’s brand-new Buc-ee’s just north of Dayton off I-70, Dr. Amy Acton posed for what was meant to be a wholesome campaign snapshot—a smiling physician-turned-politician standing beside the gleaming Texas-sized travel center, projecting the image of a nice, relatable lady who shops where everyday Buckeyes shop. The first Ohio Buc-ee’s opened in Huber Heights in early April 2026, drawing massive crowds and national attention for its clean restrooms, fresh brisket, and over-the-top convenience. Acton’s team seized the moment, posting the photo to humanize her, to say, “See? She’s just like you.” But the optics couldn’t paper over the deeper story unfolding in this 2026 gubernatorial race. While Acton tried to reset her image with photo ops and bedside-manner charm, Vivek Ramaswamy was drawing genuine, overflowing crowds of longtime Ohio friends, family, and supporters who have known him since he was a boy in Cincinnati—people who remember his parents’ immigrant journey, his entrepreneurial drive, and the decades of personal relationships that speak louder than any staged picture. You can judge a person by the company they keep, and Ramaswamy’s circle spills over with proud, authentic voices from his past who have stuck with him through every chapter of his life. Acton’s campaign, by contrast, feels increasingly desperate, resorting to high-powered Washington lawyers to silence critics rather than defend her record.
NEW ALL-TIME HIGH: Vivek Ramaswamy has a 97.6% chance of being the Ohio Republican Governor nominee pic.twitter.com/d9qj0lLrfo
To understand why this race matters so much to Ohio’s future, you have to go back to the spring of 2020, when Dr. Amy Acton served as Director of the Ohio Department of Health under Republican Governor Mike DeWine. She wasn’t elected; she was appointed. Yet she became the public face of some of the nation’s most aggressive COVID-19 policies. On March 22, 2020—when Ohio had reported just a handful of deaths—Acton helped lead the state into one of the earliest and strictest lockdowns anywhere. Schools closed statewide for the rest of the academic year. “Non-essential” businesses shuttered overnight. Stay-at-home orders restricted movement. Nursing homes were locked down, isolating vulnerable residents from loved ones. Capacity limits, mask mandates, and social-distancing rules followed, all modeled closely on guidance from the CDC and Dr. Anthony Fauci. Acton appeared in daily press briefings alongside DeWine, projecting calm authority while estimating infection numbers that frightened the public into compliance. She resigned in June 2020 amid growing protests outside her home, but the policies she championed reshaped Ohio in ways the state is still recovering from six years later.
The human and economic toll of those decisions has been documented in mounting data. Ohio’s unemployment rate rocketed from 4.9 percent to 16.4 percent in a single month—the sharpest spike in modern state history. Thousands of small businesses, restaurants, gyms, and retailers never reopened. Hospitality and tourism sectors collapsed. Learning loss among schoolchildren, especially in low-income districts, was catastrophic; studies projected lifetime economic losses in the hundreds of billions for Ohio alone due to missed instruction and widened achievement gaps. Mental health crises exploded: overdoses rose sharply, youth depression and suicide ideation increased, and isolation in nursing homes contributed to excess deaths beyond the virus itself—many from untreated conditions, delayed care, or despair. Nationwide analyses, including those examining excess mortality, have increasingly questioned whether the most restrictive measures saved more lives than they cost, when indirect harms are weighed. In Ohio, the early modeling that justified the lockdowns proved overly pessimistic, yet the policies remained locked in place longer than in many peer states. Acton has never fully reckoned with this in her campaign. Instead, she positions herself as “a doctor, not a politician,” emphasizing her roots in working-class Youngstown and her compassion. But for families who lost businesses, kids who fell behind, or elderly residents who died alone, those words ring hollow. The statistics don’t lie: the lockdown playbook—drawn from federal guidance influenced by international models—inflicted measurable, lasting damage on Ohio’s economy, education system, and social fabric.
Fast-forward to 2026, and Acton is the presumptive Democratic nominee for governor, running with David Pepper—former chair of the Ohio Democrat Party—as her lieutenant governor pick. Polls show the race tightening or even tilting her way slightly in some surveys, despite Ohio’s deep Republican lean. Her campaign message focuses on affordability, families, and pushing back against “special interests.” Yet when journalists and commentators like Jack Windsor of the Ohio Press Network dig into her record—whether the 2020 policies, the resurfaced 2019 Bexley police report, or other public details—her team doesn’t debate the substance. They deploy heavy legal artillery. The Acton/Pepper campaign has retained Elias Law Group, the Washington, D.C., firm founded by Marc Elias, the Democratic election lawyer infamous for his role in the 2016 Clinton campaign’s Steele dossier efforts, post-2020 litigation challenging election integrity claims, and aggressive legal maneuvers nationwide. Elias’s firm has sent cease-and-desist letters to outlets and commentators questioning Acton, framing routine investigative reporting as defamation or libel. These aren’t polite corrections; they are designed to intimidate, to force journalists and critics into defensive silence rather than risk costly litigation—even when the recipients know the claims lack merit.
This tactic is classic lawfare, and it’s especially galling because Acton is now a public figure running for the highest office in the state. Under the landmark U.S. Supreme Court precedent New York Times v. Sullivan (1964), public officials and candidates must prove “actual malice”—knowledge of falsity or reckless disregard for the truth—to win defamation suits. The bar is deliberately high to protect robust political debate and press freedom. Elias’s team knows this, yet the letters keep coming. They mirror the same playbook used in the 2020 election challenges: procedural delays, technical objections, and resource-draining threats to bury inconvenient truths under paperwork and fear. David Pepper, Acton’s running mate, has long been a fixture in Democratic politics, and his involvement signals the campaign’s strategy—control the narrative through insiders rather than earn voter trust through transparency. When a police report from August 2019 resurfaced—detailing a verbal domestic dispute at the Acton home over her long work hours, where both she and her husband admitted to drinking, she had taken prescription medication, she shattered a large mirror in frustration, and she was heading toward her car until her husband physically intervened—no charges were filed, and officers noted no physical violence. It was a private family moment turned public by her candidacy. Yet instead of addressing it head-on or releasing more context, the campaign and its allies dismiss questions as “attacks” while Elias’s firm fires off warnings. The report is public record. Citizens have every right to weigh it when evaluating a candidate who once directed public health policy affecting millions.
Contrast this with Vivek Ramaswamy. The Republican frontrunner grew up in Ohio, built a successful biotech company from scratch, and ran a high-profile 2024 presidential campaign that put him in the national spotlight. His support isn’t manufactured through consultants or photo ops. Crowds at his events include people who knew him as a kid, family friends who watched him navigate his Indian-immigrant parents’ sacrifices, and longtime associates who have seen his character tested over decades. That kind of organic loyalty doesn’t come from polling consultants or law-firm intimidation. Ramaswamy’s platform emphasizes prosperity, limited government, school choice, economic freedom, and a rejection of the bureaucratic overreach that defined the COVID era. He has visited every county, secured endorsements from sheriffs, unions in some cases, and grassroots conservatives who remember exactly who was at the podium issuing orders in 2020. His running mate, Senate President Rob McColley, brings institutional knowledge and legislative heft. Together, they represent a future-oriented conservatism rooted in Ohio values—innovation, hard work, and accountability—rather than nostalgia for the administrative state.
The deeper issue here transcends one race. When campaigns hire the likes of Marc Elias to muzzle journalists covering a candidate’s public record—whether COVID policies that harmed families or personal incidents that raise legitimate character questions—they erode the very foundation of representative government. Free speech and a free press exist precisely so voters can vet those who seek power. Ohioans paid a steep price for Acton’s lockdown decisions: lost livelihoods, educational setbacks that will echo for generations, and a lingering sense that government overstepped its bounds under the banner of “following the science.” Data now shows that many of those measures delivered marginal or questionable benefits relative to their costs. Excess mortality studies and economic analyses continue to reveal the trade-offs. Yet instead of debating that record openly, the campaign seeks to shut down the conversation. That’s not leadership; it’s the same insider playbook that has eroded trust in institutions nationwide. Elias’s history—tied to efforts to litigate away election challenges in 2020 and beyond—only underscores the pattern: when the facts are uncomfortable, deploy lawyers to redefine reality.
Ramaswamy, by contrast, invites scrutiny of his record because it stands on merit—entrepreneurial success, family values, and a clear-eyed rejection of the bureaucratic excesses that hurt working families. His supporters aren’t fringe; they’re the backbone of Ohio communities who remember the pre-lockdown economy, the joy of school events, and the freedom to live without constant government edict. They see in him someone who judges people by character and results, not by elite credentials or media spin. The 2026 race is more than a choice between two candidates; it’s a referendum on whether Ohio learns from 2020 or repeats the mistakes. Voters who value prosperity, honest accountability, and open debate have every reason to reject the politics of intimidation and nostalgia for administrative control.
Acton’s team may believe a few more Buc-ee’s photo ops and some strategic legal letters will paper over the past. But Ohioans have long memories. The lockdown lady’s policies didn’t just inconvenience people—they upended lives, and the data backs that up. Police reports, public records, and economic statistics don’t vanish because a Washington law firm sends a letter. When the votes are counted in November 2026, character, record, and authenticity will decide it. Vivek Ramaswamy brings the relationships, the vision, and the backbone to move Ohio forward. Amy Acton’s campaign, built on image management and legal threats, reveals exactly why voters should send a different message. The truth doesn’t need cease-and-desist letters to survive—it just needs voters willing to remember.
Footnotes
1. Ohio’s first Buc-ee’s location details and Acton’s visit: Campaign site and local news coverage, April 2026.
2. Acton’s role as Health Director and lockdown timeline: Contemporary reporting and her Wikipedia entry.
3. Economic and educational impacts of 2020 lockdowns in Ohio: Unemployment data from state labor statistics; learning loss projections from education analyses.
4. 2019 Bexley police report: Public records as covered by NBC News and Ohio outlets, April 2026.
5. Elias Law Group retainers and cease-and-desist letters: Reporting by Jack Windsor/Ohio Press Network and related commentary, 2026.
6. New York Times v. Sullivan precedent: U.S. Supreme Court, 376 U.S. 254 (1964).
7. Vivek Ramaswamy’s Ohio roots and campaign: Polling and news coverage of his events and endorsements.
8. Broader COVID policy critiques: Peer-reviewed studies on excess mortality, mental health, and economic costs (various sources, including PMC and state-specific analyses).
• U.S. Supreme Court case New York Times Co. v. Sullivan (full opinion available via legal archives).
Extended Footnote on New York Times Co. v. Sullivan (1964) and the “Sullivan Doctrine”
The landmark U.S. Supreme Court decision in New York Times Company v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254 (1964), fundamentally reshaped American libel law and remains the cornerstone of First Amendment protections for political speech and press freedom. Often called the “Sullivan case,” it gave rise to what legal scholars refer to as the “Sullivan doctrine” or “actual malice” rule—a constitutional standard that has been extended and refined in a line of subsequent Supreme Court cases (collectively the “Sullivan cases”). This body of law was born directly out of the Civil Rights Movement and was designed to prevent public officials from using defamation suits as a weapon to silence criticism.
Facts and Historical Context
In March 1960, amid the escalating sit-in protests and violence against Black students in Montgomery, Alabama, the Committee to Defend Martin Luther King and the Struggle for Freedom in the South placed a full-page advertisement titled “Heed Their Rising Voices” in The New York Times. The ad solicited donations to support King’s legal defense and the broader civil rights cause. It criticized “an unprecedented wave of terror” by Southern officials and police, describing incidents such as the padlocking of a dining hall at Alabama State College and police actions against demonstrators. The advertisement contained several minor factual inaccuracies (e.g., the exact number of times King had been arrested, the songs sung by students, and whether the dining hall was actually padlocked). It was signed by 64 prominent figures (including Eleanor Roosevelt and Jackie Robinson) and listed the names of four Alabama ministers associated with King’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference—some of whose names had been added without their explicit prior approval.
L.B. Sullivan, the elected Montgomery Public Safety Commissioner who oversaw the police department, was not named in the ad. Nevertheless, he sued The New York Times and the four ministers in Alabama state court, claiming the criticism of police conduct defamed him by implication. Under then-prevailing Alabama common-law libel rules, a plaintiff could recover substantial damages merely by showing the statement was false and tended to harm reputation; no proof of actual harm or malicious intent was required, and damages were often presumed. An all-white jury awarded Sullivan $500,000—a staggering sum in 1960. The Alabama Supreme Court affirmed the verdict. Similar libel suits were filed by other Alabama officials, part of a coordinated “libel attack” strategy by segregationists to bankrupt newspapers and intimidate national coverage of the Civil Rights Movement.
The Supreme Court’s Unanimous Ruling
On March 9, 1964, the U.S. Supreme Court reversed the judgment in a 9-0 decision written by Justice William J. Brennan Jr. The Court held that Alabama’s libel law unconstitutionally infringed on the First and Fourteenth Amendments when applied to criticism of public officials’ conduct. Brennan famously declared that the First Amendment “prohibits a State from awarding damages to a public official for defamatory falsehood relating to his official conduct unless he proves that the statement was made with ‘actual malice’—that is, with knowledge that it was false or with reckless disregard of whether it was false or not.” The standard must be proven with “convincing clarity.”
The opinion emphasized that “debate on public issues should be uninhibited, robust, and wide-open, and that it may well include vehement, caustic, and sometimes unpleasantly sharp attacks on government and public officials.” Erroneous statements, Brennan noted, are “inevitable in free debate” and must be protected lest the fear of liability chill essential political discourse. The ruling explicitly rejected the idea that the press could be held to the strict liability standards of ordinary private libel suits when reporting on matters of public concern.
Expansion to Public Figures and the “Sullivan Progeny”
The Sullivan rule was not limited to elected officials. In the companion cases Curtis Publishing Co. v. Butts and Associated Press v. Walker (388 U.S. 130, 1967), the Court extended the actual-malice requirement to “public figures”—prominent private citizens who thrust themselves into public controversies or are drawn into them. Justice Harlan’s plurality opinion refined the standard slightly but preserved the core protection.
Later, in Gertz v. Robert Welch, Inc. (418 U.S. 323, 1974), the Court drew a clearer line: private individuals (who have not voluntarily entered the public arena) need only show negligence by the defendant for compensatory damages, but public figures and officials must still meet the higher actual-malice threshold. Subsequent cases such as Time, Inc. v. Hill (1967) applied similar protections to false-light privacy claims, and Hustler Magazine v. Falwell (1988) extended First Amendment safeguards to parody and emotional-distress claims involving public figures.
Enduring Significance
Sullivan and its progeny were a direct response to the use of libel law as a tool of political suppression during the Civil Rights era. By placing the burden of proof on the plaintiff and raising the fault standard dramatically, the doctrine has made it extraordinarily difficult for public officials or public figures to win defamation suits against the press or critics—precisely the point. It has shielded investigative journalism, opinion writing, and robust political debate for more than six decades, even as critics (including some modern Supreme Court justices) have questioned whether the internet age requires recalibration.
In the context of modern political campaigns, the rule remains vital: candidates who voluntarily seek public office become public figures and must tolerate sharp scrutiny of their records, statements, and character. Cease-and-desist letters or threats of litigation that rely on pre-Sullivan common-law standards rarely survive constitutional review when aimed at commentary on a candidate’s official acts or fitness for office. The doctrine ensures that voters—not lawyers—ultimately decide the truth through open debate.
This historical and legal framework underscores why public-figure plaintiffs today face such a high bar: the Supreme Court deliberately chose to err on the side of protecting speech to safeguard democracy itself. For further reading, see the full opinion at 376 U.S. 254 and analyses in Actual Malice by Samantha Barbas (2023) or the Stanford Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute’s primary-source collection.
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
It’s interesting how we tend to compartmentalize these things in modern culture, shoving them into neat little boxes so we don’t have to confront the bigger picture. You hear the debates about sexual roles, the push for alternative lifestyles, abortion rights, and the whole pride movement, and the proponents of secular thinking immediately label any critique as “just Christian right-wing hysteria.” They pack it away in that tidy category, dismiss it as outdated prejudice, and move on. But if you step outside your normal circle—talk to people at the soccer game with your grandkids, chat at a bowling alley birthday party, or strike up conversations at a baseball game—you start to see how crazy and lunatic the underlying agenda really is. It’s not isolated social progress; it’s a coordinated deep population movement designed to remove humans from the Earth, and it’s been hiding in plain sight for decades.
I’ve been working on this for a long time in my book The Politics of Heaven, which I just finished the first revision of—140,000 words or so at the moment, and I’m proud of how it turned out. It fills a void that polite society has left: the theological sector where these discussions used to live has been sidelined, so we struggle to wrap our minds around their true intentions. This isn’t just a human thing. It’s a hatred against the creation of God, playing out through vile characters and obsessive pursuits of righteousness and destruction that echo the apocalyptic warnings in prophetic writings from the Second Temple period. Biblical scholarship shows us that these ancient texts weren’t abstract—they grappled with spiritual forces manipulating humanity, and that same dynamic is at work today.
Take the pride stuff, the transsexual advocacy, the gay rights push, and the celebration of alternative sexual lifestyles. On the surface, it’s sold as liberation and happiness, recognizing people for who they are. But peel back the layers, and you see it’s facilitating a depopulation agenda. Same-sex relationships, by their nature, don’t produce children. When you decentralize sex from the institution of marriage and turn it into a centerpiece of personal identity—making 90 percent of someone’s human experience about sexual preferences—it becomes like building your whole life around liking a particular wine. It’s silly, limited, and exactly the strategy to keep people from forming families. I’ve had difficult conversations with my own grandchildren about this as they enter that age, and I watched my children in their thirties navigate the social experiments pushed by MTV and the culture club era. Back in high school in the 80s, being gay wasn’t something you talked about openly. Some people lived that way, and I’m not advocating harassment or poor treatment—that’s not a proper way to deal with anybody for any reason. But it wasn’t paraded as the defining feature of life. Sexual lifestyles were private, meant for the commitment of marriage between a man and a woman, to perpetuate the human race as God intended from the Garden.
Now, it’s reckless and casual, swinging into multiple partners, no dedication to building anything lasting. The need for sexual relationships among humans is fundamentally about continuing the species. Anything advocated as an alternative—whether it’s same-sex, polyamory, or the hyper-focus on individual pleasure—is anti-family at its core. It’s an assault on the institution of marriage, which Scripture presents as a beautiful reflection of God’s covenant with creation. The same voices pushing abortion are the ones championing these lifestyles: they want God out of the classroom, the Ten Commandments out of courtrooms, and Christianity marginalized because their intent isn’t freedom—it’s using people to fulfill an anti-God agenda that destroys families and prevents the perpetuation of human beings.
Look at the corporate landscape for proof. Disney and Marvel invested heavily in this world politics, sliding same-sex relationships into Star Wars characters and celebrating them in films and shows. They gambled that people would accept it, but it hasn’t landed the way they hoped. Audiences feel uncomfortable; box office numbers for projects heavy on that messaging have suffered, and parents notice when influencers and entertainment make sexual experimentation the priority for kids in their twenties—the prime years for building families with energy and dedication. Instead of sacrifice for children, it’s endless self-focus, delaying or skipping parenthood altogether. By the time someone sorts through the confusion from public education and peer pressure, they might be in their mid-thirties, past peak fertility, with eggs running low and careers consuming the time that should have gone to raising the next generation. It’s a strategy, plain and simple: confuse sexual roles, tie it to bizarre directions like abortion on demand, and erode the family so humans don’t repopulate the Earth.
This ties straight into the deep population movement. Global fertility rates have plummeted—from about five children per woman in the 1950s to around 2.2 today, with many developed nations well below the 2.1 replacement level needed for stability. In places like South Korea and parts of Europe, projections show it dipping below 1.0, leading to shrinking populations, aging societies, and economic strain. The causes get debated—education, women’s careers, urbanization—but underneath is a cultural shift away from family-building. And who’s been advocating it? The same progressive ideology that worships the Earth over humanity. Look back at history: Thomas Malthus warned of overpopulation in 1798, sparking fears that led to eugenics in the early 20th century. Margaret Sanger, founder of what became Planned Parenthood, had ties to those ideas, pushing birth control partly to limit “unfit” populations, including through the Negro Project aimed at Black communities. Paul Ehrlich’s The Population Bomb, published in 1968, amplified the panic, influencing environmental groups and policies that framed humans as the problem. It’s Earth worship at its root: to save the planet, reduce the people. Abortion becomes a tool, pride lifestyles another—anything to curb birth rates.
But here’s where it gets spiritual, and why The Politics of Heaven had to tackle the politics of the spirit world interacting with living people. These aren’t random human trends. The agenda traces back thousands of years, likely millions, with roots that may not even originate on this planet. The obsessive pursuit of destroying evil and warnings in Second Temple apocalyptic literature point to fallen entities manipulating humanity against God’s creation. It’s a cult ritual migrated across cultures: same voices against God in schools are the ones normalizing reckless sex outside marriage. They recognize that committed families produce children who carry forward the divine mandate to “be fruitful and multiply.” Disrupt that, and you erode the foundation.
I talk broadly to people because if you stay in your bubble, you miss how maniacal it is. At a grandchild’s event, you hear parents worried about influencers pushing this on kids. Music from Boy George and Culture Club in the 80s started subtly normalizing it—flamboyant, androgynous styles that MTV beamed into homes—but it was still somewhat contained. Now, it’s mainstreamed as identity, not private preference. The result? Declining birth rates aren’t just statistics; they’re symptoms of a war on the human race. Families take tremendous effort—sacrifice, dedication, the work of young vigor. Divert that into individual lifestyles, and the population drops. It’s anti-God fulfillment: destroy the creation to worship the Earth instead.
Thankfully, the trend is turning. People aren’t buying the offerings as easily. Corporate pushes like Disney’s have backfired in some ways, with audiences rejecting the overemphasis. But we have to call it what it is: a weapon of war, an ancient ideology aimed at erasing humans from the face of the Earth. It’s not about ridiculing individuals caught in these lifestyles—that’s not the point. Many are products of peer pressure and confusion. The real crime is elevating sexual lifestyle to the center of the human story when it’s only a minor part. The strategy behind it is the depopulation agenda, a cold ritual to prevent repopulation and family perpetuation.
In The Politics of Heaven, I lay out the receipts in detail—the hows, whys, and what to do from here. It’s not bullet-point politics or theology in isolation; it’s a narrative connecting spirit-world entities to modern manipulations. The book proves this isn’t personal belief or partisan rant—it’s observable across cultural lines. For those uncomfortable saying it out loud, it’s okay to admit: advocating reckless, anti-family paths is an attempt to erase God’s creation. We treat it as the malicious scheme it is, because the future for our grandchildren depends on rejecting it. The institution of marriage and family was meant to bring heaven to Earth. Anything attacking that is the opposite and should be considered a weapon of war against our culture.
Footnotes
¹ Global fertility trends and demographic data.
² Disney/Marvel representation timelines and controversies.
³ Historical population control and eugenics links.
⁴ Second Temple apocalyptic scholarship overview.
Bibliography for Further Reading
• Roser, M. (2014). “The global decline of the fertility rate.” Our World in Data.
• Fauser, B.C.J.M., et al. (2024). “Declining global fertility rates and the implications for family structure.” Human Reproduction Update.
• Wikipedia contributors. “Disney and LGBTQ representation in animation.” (Ongoing updates on examples like America Chavez, Phastos in Eternals).
• Sanger Papers Project. “Birth Control or Race Control? Sanger and the Negro Project.” NYU.
• Ehrlich, P.R. (1968). The Population Bomb (for historical context on overpopulation fears).
• Hahne, H.A. (Various). Works on apocalyptic literature in Second Temple Judaism.
• Hoffman, R. (Ongoing). The Politics of Heaven manuscript (your own forthcoming work for the full spiritual/political framework).
• United Nations Population Division. World Fertility Reports (latest data on global TFR declines).
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
I never thought I’d be sitting here reflecting on another attempt on President Trump’s life so soon after everything else that’s unfolded in this wild political landscape, but here we are, fresh off the chaos at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner on April 25, 2026, where a 31-year-old Democrat named Cole Tomas Allen from Torrance, California, decided to storm the security line at the Washington Hilton with multiple guns and knives, firing shots in a desperate bid to get close enough to the president to do the unthinkable. I hate to say it, but I saw this coming in the broader sense—not the specifics of this lone actor, but the pattern of rage and violence that keeps bubbling up from the same ideological corners that have targeted Republican leaders for generations. As someone who was just at the White House with my wife a few weeks ago, experiencing the layers of security firsthand—the rope barriers, the lengthy check-in processes, the offsite staging down Connecticut Avenue a mile and a half or two miles away that forces the president into inconvenient travel for events like this—I couldn’t help but connect the dots immediately when the news broke. The security is extensive, as it should be, but it’s not foolproof against someone willing to die in those first few chaotic seconds of a rush, and that’s exactly what Allen tried to pull off. He charged the barricades, shots rang out, a Secret Service officer took a hit to the chest but thankfully had no permanent damage and was released from the hospital later, and the whole thing ended with Allen tackled and wrestled to the ground without anyone else getting hurt. Trump, ever the fighter, wanted to go back in and continue the dinner, which I totally agree with—it’s a shame they had to evacuate and crawl off the stage in that embarrassing scramble, all because some loser with a grudge thought he could rewrite history with a bullet. But what fascinates me, and what I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since, is how this fits into a much larger, darker thread running through American history, one that stretches back to Abraham Lincoln and the very founding fractures of our republic. I’ve never been one to shy away from calling things what they are, and this wasn’t some random act of madness; it was the latest chapter in a strategy of storming the line when elections and arguments fail, and it’s a Democrat thing through and through, whether they admit it or not.
Let me back up a bit and share what I saw myself, because I was physically in Washington, D.C., not long before this all occurred, and it gave me a front-row perspective that makes the whole incident hit different. My wife and I spent several hours at the White House after touring it, soaking in the people’s house as it’s meant to be, and then we wandered the city doing other things. One of the stops my wife insisted on was Ford’s Theatre, just a few blocks from the White House on 10th Street, near the FBI building, the Department of Justice, and the Smithsonian. It’s in that little historic sector off Pennsylvania Avenue, and I’ve talked to plenty of frequent D.C. visitors who’ve never bothered to go there, which I find astonishing—if you live or work in the capital, why wouldn’t you make the pilgrimage to the spot where a president was assassinated? The day we visited, they were still running plays there—they had a production of 1776 on the schedule—but before the evening show, they let visitors in for a historic tour. I stood right at the box where Lincoln was shot, and downstairs in the basement museum, there’s this incredibly detailed exhibit on everything leading up to and after the assassination. I bought a stack of books—two from NASA engineers who created a portable AC unit that’s making old expensive models obsolete, plus a whole bunch more on the Lincoln era—and they were surprisingly good reads. The museum staff had a passionate member of the historic preservation society who gave a half-hour-to-45-minute talk on stage about the theater, John Wilkes Booth, and Lincoln at the time, and it was riveting. We geeked out hard on the historical preservation side of it, my wife and I, because we love that kind of deep dive into how events shape nations. Across the street, the house where Lincoln died is preserved exactly as it was, with the bed still set up, the waiting room where his wife sat through the night, and then an adjacent building turned into a multi-story museum with elevators and creative floor knockouts to display artifacts, including a three-story stack of every book ever written about Lincoln. It puts into perspective just how pivotal he was, how the Republican Party was born to defeat slavery under his leadership, and how the forces arrayed against him—Democrats of the day, essentially the party of the South and slavery—couldn’t accept the Civil War’s outcome.
That visit stayed with me, and when I heard about Cole Tomas Allen’s rush on the Hilton security, it felt like history repeating itself most chillingly. John Wilkes Booth was an actor, a celebrity of his time, a major supporter of slavery who hated the emerging Republican Party and the way Lincoln had led the Union to victory. Just days after Lee’s surrender, with Lincoln reelected and celebrating, Booth used his knowledge of Ford’s Theatre to slip into the private box, shoot Lincoln in the back of the head, jump to the stage, breaking his leg, and flee through the back. The search that followed was intense, and Booth was eventually cornered and killed. But the characteristics? The same righteous fury, the same belief that the political opposition had to be destroyed physically because they couldn’t be beaten at the ballot box or in debate. Booth wasn’t some outlier; he embodied the Democrat rage of the era against a Republican president who dared to end their way of life. Lincoln had done nothing but win the war fair and square, preserve the Union, and free the slaves, yet the opposition framed it as provocation. Sound familiar? Fast-forward to today, and you have Cole Tomas Allen, a mechanical engineer and computer scientist by training, an independent game developer, a part-time teacher who was even named Teacher of the Month in 2024 at a tutoring company in Torrance, flying across the country to storm a security checkpoint at an event where Trump was speaking. He had a room at the Hilton, multiple weapons, and the clear intention to get into that ballroom and take his shot before anyone could react. Preliminary reports note a small political donation to a PAC supporting Kamala Harris in 2024, and while he’s described as a lone wolf with no confirmed party registration, the pattern fits: Democrat-aligned frustration boiling over into violence when rhetoric and elections don’t deliver the outcome they want. The media and left-leaning voices immediately tried to flip the script, blaming Trump’s “rhetoric” for making people upset, as if his push to make America great again is the real crime. It’s the same framing they used after the Alex Jones Sandy Hook saga, where free speech got twisted into causing harm, setting precedents to silence opposition. And after the dinner was evacuated, there was a video of invited reporters—those paragons of lowlife character—stealing bottles of wine to take home, proving the event’s attendees weren’t exactly above reproach themselves.
To really grasp why this keeps happening, I think you have to zoom out and look at the full list of presidential assassins and would-be assassins throughout our history. It’s not a short roster, and when you examine the motives, the ideologies, and the political leanings, a disturbing trend emerges that the mainstream narrative loves to ignore or downplay. Start with the successful ones: Lincoln in 1865 by John Wilkes Booth, a pro-Confederate actor driven by Southern Democrat sympathies against the Republican who crushed slavery and the rebellion. Then, in 1881, James Garfield was shot by Charles Guiteau, a delusional office-seeker who claimed divine inspiration but whose act came amid the spoils system battles that Democrats often exploited. William McKinley in 1901 by Leon Czolgosz, an anarchist influenced by radical left-wing thought who saw the president as a symbol of capitalist oppression. John F. Kennedy in 1963 by Lee Harvey Oswald, a self-avowed Marxist who defected to the Soviet Union and had deep ties to communist and pro-Castro groups—hardly a right-winger. Those are the four who died in office from assassins’ bullets, and already you see a pattern leaning toward radical left or anti-Republican forces.
But the attempts are where it gets even more telling, especially when you layer in the modern era and the repeated targeting of Donald Trump. There was Andrew Jackson in 1835, targeted by Richard Lawrence, who blamed the president for personal financial woes tied to Democratic Party infighting, though he was acquitted on insanity grounds. Theodore Roosevelt, in 1912, was shot by John Schrank, a saloonkeeper obsessed with third-term politics, but whose act disrupted a progressive Republican campaign. Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1933 by Giuseppe Zangara, an Italian immigrant anarchist who hated “capitalists” and originally aimed at the mayor of Chicago, but killed the mayor instead when FDR’s motorcade shifted. Harry Truman in 1950 by Oscar Collazo and Griselio Torresola, Puerto Rican nationalists with left-leaning independence motives who tried to storm Blair House. Gerald Ford faced two attempts in 1975: first by Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme, a Charles Manson follower tied to radical environmental and left-wing cults, who pointed a gun at him in Sacramento; then by Sara Jane Moore, a radical leftist and associate of the Symbionese Liberation Army who fired shots in San Francisco. Ronald Reagan in 1981 by John Hinckley Jr., whose obsession was more personal but occurred amid a wave of anti-Republican sentiment. George W. Bush had plots against him involving various radicals. Barack Obama faced threats from white supremacists and others, but the volume pales compared to what Republicans endure. And then there is Trump; the list is staggering even before this latest one. In 2016, there were multiple threats and plots during the campaign. The 2024 Butler, Pennsylvania rally attempt by Thomas Matthew Crooks, a 20-year-old who fired from a rooftop, grazing Trump’s ear before being taken out by the Secret Service. Another incident occurred in Florida at Trump International Golf Club, where a man with a rifle was spotted near the perimeter. Now, this 2026 incident with Allen at the Correspondents’ Dinner, charging the line like Booth slipping into the theater box. These aren’t isolated; they’re symptoms of a side that resorts to bullets when ballots fail.
What strikes me most, having walked the very floors where Lincoln breathed his last and stood at that preserved box at Ford’s Theatre, is how the psychology hasn’t changed. His hatred of Lincoln’s policies radicalized Booth, his support for slavery, and his view that Republicans were destroying the Southern way of life. He plotted meticulously, using his insider knowledge as an actor to get close. Allen, from what’s emerging, flew in from California, checked into the very hotel hosting the event, and made his move in those critical seconds when security might be distracted. The media reaction was predictable: some outlets and commentators immediately pivoted to “Trump’s rhetoric provoked this,” echoing the post-event spin that it’s somehow the president’s fault for pushing back against globalism, terrorism, and the erosion of American values. They said the same about Lincoln—don’t provoke the South, let them keep their slaves, mind your own business. It’s the same gaslighting: if conservatives challenge the status quo, any violence that follows is on us. But I’ve studied this enough, and I’ve written extensively about the spiritual dimension behind it all, because this isn’t just politics; it’s a battle for the soul of the nation. In my upcoming book, The Politics of Heaven, which dives deep into the conspiracies plotting against God’s creation and the biblical foundations of true liberty, I lay out the receipts on how these movements—Marxist persuasions that gained traction in the mid-1800s and wormed into American soil—defend their ground with threats and acts of violence when ideas fail. Lincoln loved his Bible; Trump has found a genuine relationship with God amid his political fights. The Republican Party, born to end slavery and preserve the constitutional order, stands as a bulwark, and that’s why it draws the fire. People like Booth or Allen don’t just wake up one day and decide to kill; they’re vulnerable to the demon whispers that radicalize through hatred, the kind festering in elements of the Democrat machine where debate gets shut down, voices get canceled, and when that fails, the garden hose of violence gets turned on full blast.
I spent way more time at Ford’s Theatre than I expected because the exhibit was so well done—it’s not some dusty relic but a living museum with creative displays, like the stacked books soaring three stories high, symbolizing Lincoln’s enduring legacy. The staff noticed my intense interest, and we struck up conversations; they’re passionate preservers of history, serving everybody regardless of politics, but you could sense the hush around the violence angle. They know the truth—that the same evil that possessed Booth is at work today—but nobody wants to “set off” the other side or invite more backlash. It’s pathetic, really, this self-censorship where we’re told not to hurt Democrat feelings lest they unleash more of what they’ve always done. Across from the theater, the Petersen House, where Lincoln died, is equally powerful, with the bed and rooms preserved, and the expanded museum next door telling the full story of the search and cultural impact. My wife and I relished every minute because we value what the Republican Party stands for: anti-slavery roots, freedom’s perpetuation, the defense of God-given rights articulated in the Constitution and the Bible. We left with armfuls of books and a deeper appreciation, but also a resolve not to ignore the pattern anymore.
This latest attempt with Cole Tomas Allen underscores why events like the Correspondents’ Dinner can’t keep happening off-site in unsecured hotels. The White House is the people’s house, and it deserves a big, beautiful ballroom right on the grounds under the tightest security imaginable. No more driving all over town, exposing the president and officials to these risks. Trump’s reaction—wanting to push through and continue—shows the spirit we need. The low character on display afterward, with reporters pilfering wine while a would-be assassin was still being processed, just highlights the decadence. And the irony of Democrats and media claiming Trump caused this by “poking everyone in the eye” is rich; it’s the exact argument used against Lincoln for ending slavery. If you don’t want violence, stop defending indefensible positions like radical globalism or anti-American sentiment. The answer isn’t more policy tweaks; it’s confronting the spiritual warfare at the root, the kind I explore in The Politics of Heaven, with detailed explanations of how these hatreds possess people and why Republicans like Lincoln and Trump become targets. I’ve got the receipts in that book because too many conversations end with “how can you say that?”—well, here’s how, backed by history, facts, and faith.
Reflecting on my trip to D.C.—the White House shirt I picked up, the Ford’s Theatre geek-out with my wife, the realization that this city under Republican leadership feels vibrant and alive—I’m more convinced than ever that we learn from these tragedies by accelerating the ballroom project and calling out the pattern plainly. Killer democrats don’t represent every member of the party, but their movement has a historical strain of violence when cornered, from Booth to Allen and the attempts in between. It’s not new; it’s persistent. We preserve freedom not by cowering but by building stronger, speaking truth, and understanding the spiritual battle. The show goes on at Ford’s Theatre, plays still performed where history was made, and America will endure the same way—as long as we remember the lessons from 10th Street and apply them to today’s threats. The museum there could take a week to absorb fully, and every American should visit; it’s not just history, it’s a warning and a call to vigilance.
Footnotes:
[Footnote 1: Details on the April 25, 2026, incident drawn from contemporaneous reports, including Al Jazeera, The Times, Time magazine, and NBC Los Angeles coverage confirming Cole Tomas Allen’s identity, background, actions, and charges.]
[Footnote 2: Ford’s Theatre and Petersen House descriptions based on personal observations and standard historic site information from the National Park Service.]
[Footnote 3: List of presidential assassination attempts compiled from historical records, including those documented in sources like the U.S. Secret Service historical overviews and books such as The Presidents and the Assassins by Ronald J. Sterba.]
[Footnote 4: Political affiliations and motives of assassins cross-referenced with biographical accounts; e.g., Booth’s Confederate ties in American Brutus by Michael W. Kauffman.]
[Footnote 5: Upcoming book reference to The Politics of Heaven by the author, forthcoming, with a full analysis of spiritual and political conspiracies.]
Bibliography:
• Kauffman, Michael W. American Brutus: John Wilkes Booth and the Lincoln Conspiracies. Random House, 2004.
• Sterba, Ronald J. The Presidents and the Assassins: From Lincoln to Kennedy and Beyond. CreateSpace, 2015.
• National Park Service. Ford’s Theatre Official Guide. U.S. Department of the Interior.
• Various news reports on Cole Thomas Allen incident: Al Jazeera (April 26, 2026), The Times (April 26, 2026), Time (April 26, 2026), Washington Post live updates.
• Hoffman, Rich. The Gunfight Guide to Business, prior edition.
• Lincoln assassination primary sources: The Assassination of Abraham Lincoln by various compiled eyewitness accounts, Library of Congress archives.
• Trump assassination attempt histories: Official Secret Service reports and public records from 2024-2026 incidents.
Rich Hoffman is an aerospace executive, political strategist, systems thinker, and independent researcher of ancient history, the paranormal, and the Dead Sea Scrolls tradition. His life in high‑stakes manufacturing, high‑level politics, and cross‑functional crisis management gives him a field‑tested understanding of power — both human and unseen.
He has advised candidates, executives, and public leaders, while conducting deep, hands‑on exploration of archaeological and supernatural hotspots across the world.
Hoffman writes with the credibility of a problem-solver, the curiosity of an archaeologist, and the courage of a frontline witness who has gone to very scary places and reported what lurked there. Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.
The Overmanwarrior 