After the Primary: The Quiet Discipline That Holds Local Politics Together

In the weeks following a hard-fought primary like the one we just witnessed in Butler County, Ohio, the atmosphere shifts noticeably. Yard signs disappear from lawns and intersections, the barrage of text messages and robocalls slows to a trickle, and former rivals find themselves sharing space at the same community events. For those of us who have spent years immersed in local party work—not as officeholders, but as volunteers, observers, strategists, and commentators—the true measure of success is not the drama of election night. It is the steady, often invisible labor that follows: rebuilding unity, channeling energy toward the general election, and recommitting to the unglamorous tasks that make self-government possible at the county level.

I have watched these cycles unfold in Butler County for a long time. It is a place I know intimately, not through national headlines but through precinct meetings, central committee sessions, and the day-to-day effort of turning out voters in all kinds of weather. The 2026 Republican primary for county commissioner stands out, not because it was exceptionally bitter by historical standards, but because it offered a clear illustration of how functional parties operate. The Butler County Republican Party, under Executive Chairman Todd Hall, held an endorsement process that produced a strong 71% vote for challenger Michael Ryan at the pre-primary meeting. Incumbent Commissioner Cindy Carpenter, a long-serving public servant with her own record of accomplishment, ran without seeking the party’s formal endorsement and fell short in the May 5 primary, with Ryan securing approximately 72% of the vote to her 28%. In a heavily Republican county, that primary outcome effectively decided the seat, but the real story lies in what the process revealed about leadership, temperament, and organizational resilience.

This was not chaos or machine-style imposition. It was a party mechanism functioning as intended. Primaries exist to force choices, even among candidates who broadly share a philosophical outlook. In deep-red counties like Butler, the spring contest is often where the substantive debate occurs. The party’s role is not to crown unopposed victors but to test candidates through transparent processes, consolidate support when possible, and then pivot the full organizational weight behind the nominee. What I observed here reinforced a conviction I have held for years: well-functioning local parties remain among the most effective tools for translating citizen energy into accountable governance.

My own role in these circles has been to work to amplify grassroots voices through platforms like my blog and commentary. What experience has taught me is that county-level party leadership is rarely about top-down command. It is mediation under pressure—navigating meetings where ambitions collide, volunteers grow weary, and donors press for results. Figures like Chairman Hall bring institutional memory that newer participants often overlook. They understand that endorsements derive legitimacy from process: votes cast by elected central committee members who answer to their precincts. A decisive majority, as occurred with Ryan’s 71% endorsement, gives the organization moral authority to call for unity afterward without pretending differences never existed.

Critics of the outcome, particularly those aligned with the incumbent, raised reasonable concerns rooted in experience versus renewal. Carpenter had served multiple terms, bringing continuity to county issues such as development, infrastructure, and fiscal management. Ryan, a former Hamilton city councilmember, embodied a generational shift and demonstrated strong grassroots appeal. Both sides presented legitimate visions. The endorsement vote did not suppress those arguments; it subjected them to public scrutiny during the primary. Voters rendered their verdict decisively. That is precisely how the system is designed to work. Absent such a mechanism, contests devolve into pure personality clashes or contests dominated solely by fundraising. With it, even a well-qualified incumbent has the opportunity to make their case directly to the electorate—as Carpenter did—while the party fulfills its role as aggregator and tester of support.

What remains largely invisible to outsiders is the volunteer economy that sustains these efforts. In Midwestern counties like Butler, the Republican organization depends on individuals who participate not for pay or prestige but because they view unstructured, celebrity-driven alternatives as inferior. These are precinct captains making calls after full workdays, sign teams braving cold mornings along highways, and committee members debating platform details that never reach cable news. The labor includes maintaining accurate voter data, training poll watchers, coordinating logistics for early voting, and managing relationships with statewide and national figures who sometimes treat local parties more as backdrops for appearances than as genuine partners. When a primary concludes, this infrastructure does not dissolve. It redirects. Unity after conflict is not erasure of disagreement; it is a deliberate choice to preserve capacity for the larger tasks ahead.

I have witnessed the tangible costs when capable people disengage. In prior cycles, personal disappointments prompted some to step back or, worse, work against the organization. The consequences are measurable: reduced turnout, diluted messaging, and openings for opponents. Self-government demands institutions capable of outlasting individual ambitions or grievances. Political parties are imperfect—vulnerable to factionalism, inertia, and occasional self-dealing—but they perform essential functions: aggregating dispersed knowledge, distributing the workload, and creating accountability structures that independent efforts or ad hoc movements rarely replicate at scale. A single voice with a platform can shape opinion and hold leaders accountable. Converting that influence into sustained policy impact or electoral success requires a coordinated, disciplined organization.

This local reality stands in instructive contrast to national political dysfunction. In Washington and the broader media ecosystem, spectacle dominates: perpetual outrage, purity spirals, and the framing of every intra-party disagreement as existential treason. At the county level, practical governance imposes discipline. Commissioners must address real constituent concerns—road maintenance, zoning disputes, tax levies, and emergency services. Rhetoric collides with results on a shorter timeline. Butler County’s recent primary highlighted the importance of temperament alongside ideology. Party leadership maintained focus on process rather than inflammatory escalation. Post-primary statements emphasized forward momentum. Such quiet competence is more demanding than it appears and more valuable than fiery rhetoric in sustaining long-term effectiveness.

Gratitude is appropriate in this moment. It belongs to the central committee members who cast difficult votes based on their assessment of the county’s needs. To the volunteers who invested time in both campaigns and are now bridging divides. To Michael Ryan for waging a substantive race that resonated with voters. Institutional memory, carried by leaders who recall when Butler County was more competitive and the sustained effort required to build current strength, helps moderate impulses to dismantle structures after any single setback. People like Chairman Hall, who have been involved since the late 1990s, provide continuity that tempers short-term passions.

None of this equates to demanding uncritical loyalty. Parties require ongoing scrutiny. Endorsement processes can and should evolve—perhaps with enhanced transparency, more structured candidate forums, and refined approaches to balancing incumbency advantages against fresh challenges. Yet the impulse to abandon or weaken the framework because one cycle produced disappointment undermines the very instrument needed for future contests. In an age of eroded public trust, competent local organizations help rebuild it precinct by precinct through consistent delivery and responsiveness.

The road ahead for Butler County follows a familiar and constructive pattern: consolidate support behind nominees, maximize turnout among the base, and communicate clearly on tangible priorities such as responsible growth, efficient services, and fiscal prudence. For those of us reflecting on the primary, the takeaways transcend this single race. Politics at its most effective is less poetry than prose—the patient discipline of meetings, voter lists, follow-up calls, and coalition maintenance. Leadership under pressure manifests not primarily in stirring speeches but in the capacity to accept defeat without bitterness, achieve victory without triumphalism, and realign all parties toward shared objectives.

This primary tested those qualities. Early indications suggest the organization met the challenge. That outcome merits recognition, not because the party or its processes are flawless, but because functional competence at the local level sustains self-government amid broader cultural noise. In an era that rewards disruption and performative outrage, preserving and improving these institutions—through honest critique, participation, and earned trust—remains a quiet but essential civic duty.

Expanding on these themes requires acknowledging the deeper historical and theoretical context that makes county parties vital. Alexis de Tocqueville, observing American democracy in the 1830s, famously noted the proliferation of voluntary associations as a distinguishing strength of the young republic. Political parties, at their best, represent one form of this associative life, mediating between the individual citizen and the scale of government. In a federal system, the county level serves as a crucial intermediary: close enough to constituents for accountability, yet structured enough to influence state and national outcomes. Butler County exemplifies this. Its Republican organization has helped maintain conservative governance on issues ranging from economic development in growing townships to prudent management of public resources. The primary process, while contentious, demonstrated the system’s capacity for self-correction without external imposition.

Volunteer culture deserves particular emphasis. National campaigns and consultants often overlook the economics of local effort. In Butler, as elsewhere, much of the work relies on unpaid labor motivated by conviction rather than compensation. This creates both strengths and vulnerabilities. Commitment runs deep, but burnout is real. Effective leadership mitigates the latter through recognition, clear communication, and realistic expectations. Post-primary unity efforts succeed when they validate contributions from all sides rather than signaling that only the winner’s team mattered. Ryan’s campaign benefited from broad grassroots enthusiasm; integrating Carpenter’s supporters will strengthen the general election effort against the Democratic nominee.

Critics of party structures sometimes advocate for open primaries or non-partisan approaches, arguing that closed systems entrench insiders. There is merit in debating reforms. Yet evidence from political science suggests that strong parties correlate with more stable governance and higher accountability in legislative bodies. Duverger’s Law highlights how single-member district systems naturally favor two-party competition, with parties serving as gatekeepers that filter extreme or unserious candidates. Local organizations add granularity: they understand hyper-local dynamics—school levies, township trustees, zoning battles—that national or even statewide actors cannot. Dismissing them as obsolete ignores their role in countering the atomization of modern politics, where social media amplifies voices but rarely builds lasting coalitions.

My perspective is shaped by years of commentary on these dynamics. I have celebrated victories, critiqued missteps, and urged higher standards. The 2026 primary reinforced that temperament matters profoundly. Victors who gloat or losers who withdraw permanently erode the shared capital necessary for future success. The measured tone from both campaigns and party leadership post-May 5 offers a model worth emulating. It acknowledges human ambition while subordinating it to institutional health.

Looking forward, Butler County faces familiar challenges: balancing growth with quality of life, controlling costs amid state and federal pressures, and maintaining trust in local institutions. The Republican nominee will benefit from the county’s partisan lean, but complacency is unwise. Effective parties treat every election as competitive, investing in voter contact and message discipline. National figures who visit during cycles would do well to invest more in these local structures rather than viewing them transactionally.

In the end, the quiet discipline of functional parties—endorsement processes that confer legitimacy, volunteer networks that deliver results, leadership that mediates rather than dictates—sustains the American experiment more reliably than episodic populism or institutional disdain. This primary was a reminder of that truth. Credit belongs to those who participated fully: candidates, committee members, volunteers, and voters. Their efforts, visible and invisible, keep self-government operational. Protecting that legacy, improving where needed, and recommitting after conflict represent the real work of politics. It is rarely glamorous, but it remains indispensable.

Footnotes

1. Cincinnati Enquirer reporting on May 5, 2026, primary results.

2. Journal-News coverage of endorsement and vote totals.

3. Butler County Board of Elections data.

4. Tocqueville, Democracy in America (1835/1840), discussion of associations.

5. Duverger, Political Parties (1951), on party systems.

6. Observations drawn from public statements by party leadership and candidates.

7. Historical context from local coverage of prior cycles.

Bibliography / Suggested Reading

• de Tocqueville, Alexis. Democracy in America. Translated by Henry Reeve. 1835/1840. (Especially Volume 1 on civil associations.)

• Duverger, Maurice. Political Parties: Their Organization and Activity in the Modern State. 1951.

• Putnam, Robert D. Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. Simon & Schuster, 2000. (On social capital and local engagement.)

• Aldrich, John H. Why Parties? A Second Look. University of Chicago Press, 2011.

• Local coverage: Cincinnati Enquirer, Journal-News archives on Butler County elections.

• Additional context from Ballotpedia entries on Ohio local races and party structures.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

The Litigation Profiteers: How Election Lawyers and Government Legal Firms Thrive on Political Chaos and Taxpayer Funds

As I drove past the law practice in Beckett Ridge the other day, I noticed the big sign out front supporting Cindy Carpenter in the Republican primary for Butler County Commissioner. It struck me as odd. The lawyer who runs that firm shows up at Republican events, associates with Republican circles, and presents himself as one of us. Yet here he was, publicly backing a candidate the party had dumped in favor of its endorsed choice, Michael Ryan. That sign crystallized something I’ve observed for years in Ohio politics: certain legal professionals operate in the shadows, injecting themselves into local disputes not out of ideological consistency but because chaos creates billable hours. This isn’t isolated to one small firm or one county. It scales up dramatically when you reach the national level, where figures like Marc Elias have built entire practices—and substantial wealth—by turning election law into a high-volume litigation machine that drains public resources while advancing partisan goals. What follows is my endeavor to shed light on this system, drawing on personal experiences in Ohio and broader patterns affecting taxpayers nationwide.

Marc Elias, the prominent Democratic election law attorney (often referred to in shorthand as “Mark” in casual conversation), stands as the archetype of this phenomenon. Elias, a partner at Elias Law Group, and is a direct supporter of Amy Acton in Ohio, which he founded after leaving Perkins Coie in 2021, has positioned himself as the go-to litigator for voting rights challenges. He founded Democracy Docket in 2020 as a platform to track and analyze these cases, and his firm has been extraordinarily active. In October 2025, Elias publicly stated that his team of fewer than 60 lawyers was litigating 63 voting and election cases across 30 states. By May 2026, that number had climbed to 85 cases in 43 states plus the District of Columbia. His side claims victories in the overwhelming majority of post-2020 challenges to Republican-backed election measures, framing them as defenses against “voter suppression.” Critics, however, see a deliberate strategy of lawfare: filing lawsuits in multiple jurisdictions to force states, counties, and local governments to expend vast sums to defend laws that enjoy broad public support, such as voter ID requirements. Elias himself has acknowledged the volume, noting in one Democracy Docket piece that his firm’s work is relentless and expanding.

This isn’t new for Elias. In 2020, he led the Democratic legal response to more than 60 lawsuits filed by Donald Trump and his allies challenging election results. Nearly all of those suits failed, often on procedural grounds or for lack of evidence. Elias’s team prevailed in the lion’s share, cementing his reputation. But the pattern predates 2020. He has challenged voter ID laws, early voting restrictions, ballot-collection rules, and redistricting efforts in dozens of states. In Ohio specifically, Elias Law Group filed suit in January 2023 against House Bill 458, signed by Republican Governor Mike DeWine. The law included photo voter ID requirements and other provisions that the plaintiffs—groups like the Northeast Ohio Coalition for the Homeless, Ohio Federation of Teachers, Ohio Alliance for Retired Americans, and Union Veterans Council—called “voter suppression.” The suit argued the measures disproportionately harmed young, elderly, Black, military, and overseas voters. Elias’s firm has also targeted Ohio’s rules on drop boxes and foreign funding in ballot measures. These actions align with a national playbook: challenge decentralized election administration in as many venues as possible, knowing that even if many suits are dismissed, the cumulative cost to defenders mounts.

What makes this infrastructure so effective—and so corrosive—is the decentralized nature of American elections. Unlike a centralized national system, voting rules are set and administered at the state and county levels. A single law, such as Ohio’s voter ID requirement or restrictions on “Golden Week” early voting and registration (which Elias’s earlier work also targeted), can trigger parallel lawsuits in federal and state courts. Each filing forces election officials, secretaries of state, and attorneys general to respond. Defense isn’t cheap. Routine election litigation for a state or county can run between $50,000 and $250,000 per case, according to estimates from officials who have faced these challenges. When emergency injunctions, appeals, and discovery are involved, costs balloon into the hundreds of thousands or even millions per major dispute. Multiply that across dozens or hundreds of suits nationwide, and the taxpayer burden becomes enormous. Many of these expenses are buried in general budgets, election administration line items, or outside counsel contracts rather than isolated as “litigation defense.” There is no national requirement to itemize plaintiff-specific legal fees, making the full picture opaque. Reporters rarely dig into the granular accounting, so the public seldom sees the true price tag.

I have seen this dynamic play out up close in Ohio. During my involvement with local issues, particularly around Lakota Local Schools in Butler County, I witnessed how legal strategies can be weaponized to remove elected officials who don’t align with certain interests. A school board member endorsed by the Republican Party faced removal efforts involving coordinated complaints, legal maneuvering, and outside pressure. The board ultimately acted against her amid disputes over absences and other procedural issues. Public records battles followed, including a case that reached the Ohio Supreme Court, where Lakota was ordered to pay thousands in fees for failing to promptly release documents related to legal spending and threats of litigation. The district also settled other suits involving residents barred from speaking at meetings, covering plaintiff legal fees. These aren’t abstract costs. They come out of the same budgets funded by local property taxes—the very taxes that already strain families and businesses. School boards negotiate collective bargaining agreements with unions, and the legalisms involved in those contracts, disputes, and related litigation generate substantial revenue for outside firms. Chaos in the public school system, whether over board composition, curriculum, or operations, keeps the meter running.

The same lawyer I saw with the Carpenter sign had previously inserted himself into the school board removal effort. He helped craft or advise on the legal strategy that contributed to ousting a Republican-backed member. It surprised me at first—someone who attends Republican events playing along with what appeared to be an effort to shift the board toward more liberal control. But it makes sense once you follow the money. Law firms that specialize in government work—whether at the school board, county, or state level—thrive when there is perpetual conflict. They represent municipalities in defense matters, advise on contracts, and sometimes moonlight on partisan challenges. The incentive is clear: more lawsuits mean more retainers, more billable hours, more settlements. In Lakota’s case, the legal spend tied to board disputes and public records requests added up quickly, all ultimately borne by taxpayers.

This pattern repeats at the state and national scale. Elias’s firm has received tens of millions in payments from Democratic committees and campaigns. OpenSecrets data for the 2024 cycle alone shows Elias Law Group receiving over $40 million in legal services from various Democratic entities. These funds don’t come from thin air; they originate with donors who expect results in the form of favorable court rulings, delayed or blocked reforms, and sustained pressure on Republican-led election administrations. When states settle early to avoid mounting defense costs—as some attorneys general have done rather than fight every challenge to the bitter end—the litigation achieves its strategic goal without a full trial. The threat of bankruptcy through legal fees is real for smaller jurisdictions. Communities facing multiple simultaneous suits often lack the resources to defend aggressively, leading to procedural changes or policy retreats that might not have occurred on the merits.

Critics of voter ID and other common-sense reforms frequently point to the absence of widespread fraud findings in court as proof that the measures are unnecessary. But that misses the point. Many challenges never reach a full evidentiary hearing on fraud because the sheer expense of litigation forces capitulation or dismissal on narrower grounds. Elias and similar litigators understand this leverage perfectly. They file suits knowing that even meritless claims impose real costs. One notable example involved sanctions against Elias and co-counsel. In a Texas case concerning the elimination of straight-ticket voting, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals sanctioned the team for filing redundant and misleading motions. The court ordered payment of opposing attorney fees and double costs, describing the conduct as problematic. While Elias’s defenders called it a technicality or good-faith error, the episode illustrates how aggressive tactics can cross lines—and still generate fees along the way. A federal court in another context also addressed Elias-related conduct with fee-shifting orders.

The broader legal profession has learned to mine government budgets in similar ways. Public sector collective bargaining, school board disputes, redistricting battles, and election administration all require specialized counsel. Firms embed themselves in these ecosystems, often representing both sides of the table at different times. The result is a self-perpetuating cycle: policies that invite litigation create demand for lawyers; lawyers file suits that generate more litigation; governments pay to defend or settle, raising taxes or cutting services elsewhere. Property taxes, in particular, become a reliable revenue stream for these activities because they are local and somewhat insulated from immediate voter backlash. In Ohio, where property taxes fund much of local government and schools, the inability to rationalize budgets amid endless legal challenges keeps rates elevated. Media rarely connect the dots between litigation infrastructure and tax burdens, but the connection is direct.

I’ve dealt with my share of lawyers and consultants lately, both personally and in observing public affairs. They are expensive—often prohibitively so. They jump between contracts, charge premium rates, and extract significant value from the top of any deal or dispute. When legal issues arise, they can drain bank accounts with astonishing speed. In government contexts, this dynamic is amplified because the payer is diffuse: the taxpayer. Most citizens don’t have the expertise or resources to challenge the system themselves. Self-representation is possible but risky and time-consuming; hiring specialists is the default for institutions. Judges, many of whom come from the same legal circles or socialize with attorneys at events, often defer to the professionals. The result is a clubby environment where loyalty to the bar most of the time trumps accountability to the public.

Nationally, the scale is staggering. Democracy Docket’s own tracking shows hundreds of voting and election lawsuits filed in recent cycles—228 in 2024 alone, part of a total of 306 from early 2023 through Election Day. While Elias frames these as necessary defenses of democracy, the cumulative burden of defense falls on public coffers. States like Texas have spent millions defending voter ID and redistricting laws over the years. North Carolina expended roughly $5 million on voter ID litigation between 2011 and 2016. Local Voting Rights Act Section 2 suits have cost jurisdictions millions apiece in defense and settlements—Charleston County, South Carolina, spent $2 million unsuccessfully; Yakima, Washington, nearly $3 million. These figures represent conservative estimates; appeals and repeated filings multiply the impact. When aggregated across the country, the high single digits of millions—or likely far more—disappear into budgets without clear public accounting.

Elias’s involvement in Ohio is not abstract. Beyond the 2023 HB 458 challenge, his network has engaged with issues such as foreign money in ballot campaigns and drop box rules. He has also sued to overturn certain restrictions on foreign nationals’ spending in Ohio ballot measures. These actions, while presented as principled stands for access, have the practical effect of complicating administration and forcing expenditure. Meanwhile, at the local level, analogous tactics play out in school boards and county commissions. The removal of a Republican-endorsed school board member in Lakota, the public records fights, and the legal maneuvering around board composition all illustrate how law can be used to reshape governance without direct voter input at the ballot box. The lawyer with the Carpenter sign understood the game: support the candidate who sustains the ecosystem of disputes.

This is not to say every lawsuit is frivolous or that voting rights concerns are imaginary. Legitimate disputes exist, and courts rightly resolve them. But the volume, the targeting of popular reforms like voter ID (supported by large majorities in polls), and the financial incentives create a corrosive feedback loop. Democrats benefit from the chaos because it undermines Republican-led integrity measures. Law firms benefit regardless of the outcome because fees accrue during the process. Taxpayers lose either way—directly through documented legal bills and indirectly through higher taxes, diverted election funds, and eroded trust. When cases settle or procedural changes are mandated to avoid further expense, the public rarely sees the full ledger.

The decentralized structure of elections is a feature of federalism, but it becomes a vulnerability when exploited systematically. Each county must defend its own processes. State attorneys general face a barrage. The strategy is clear: file enough suits to overwhelm capacity, force settlements, and normalize the idea that basic safeguards are legally suspect. Elias has coordinated responses to dozens of cases, and affiliated litigation has filed over 100 suits in a single year. His personal involvement in 64 election cases during the 2020-2021 period is well-documented. The goal, from the critic’s perspective, is not merely to win discrete cases but to make enforcement of election laws so costly that officials stop trying.

Personal experiences reinforce the systemic view. Dealing with consultants and attorneys in various contexts has shown me how quickly costs escalate. They take a large cut off the top, move from job to job, and thrive on complexity. In government, this is magnified. School board members who push back against the status quo often find themselves targeted legally. Elected officials hesitate to fight because they fear draining community resources. The result is a shadow governance where law firms exert outsized influence.

To break the cycle, we need structural changes. Stronger voter ID laws with clear, unambiguous standards reduce litigation fodder. Meaningful sanctions for abusive filings, greater transparency in government legal spending, and centralized tracking of litigation costs would help. Term limits or ethics rules for government attorneys might limit revolving-door incentives. Most importantly, voters must recognize that these “phantom costs” are real and fund them through taxes. Integrity in elections isn’t free, but neither is the endless litigation that undermines it.

As someone who has watched this play out from the ground level in Ohio—seeing yard signs that reveal divided loyalties, school board battles that consume resources, and national players like Elias shaping the battlefield—I believe the public deserves better. The litigation infrastructure built on chaos benefits a small class of professionals at the expense of representative government. Taxpayers foot the bill, often without realizing the full scope. Shining a light on these practices, demanding accountability, and supporting reforms that prioritize clarity over ambiguity are essential. Otherwise, the parasites will continue to thrive while the body politic weakens. We have the tools to fix it; what remains is the will to use them.

Footnotes

1. Personal observation of law practice signage and political involvement in Butler County, Ohio, 2026 primary context.

2. Democracy Docket reports and Elias public statements on case volume.

3. Ohio Capital Journal coverage of HB 458 lawsuit filed by Elias Law Group.

4. Estimates drawn from public official reports and historical litigation defense data (e.g., Texas, North Carolina voter ID cases).

5. Ohio Supreme Court ruling in Lakota Local Schools public records case, 2024.

6. OpenSecrets vendor payment data for Elias Law Group, 2024 cycle.

7. Fifth Circuit sanctions order in Texas straight-ticket voting litigation.

8. Washington Post compilation of election-related public expenditures.

9. Additional sources: Wikipedia entry on Marc Elias; Brennan Center and Campaign Legal Center litigation trackers; local Butler County reporting on Carpenter/Ryan primary and Lakota board disputes.

Bibliography

• Elias, Marc. Various articles, Democracy Docket (2020–2026).

• “Marc Elias,” Wikipedia.

• Ohio Capital Journal articles on Elias Law Group Ohio lawsuits (2023).

• OpenSecrets.org vendor profile: Elias Law Group.

• Washington Post, “Trump’s false election claims cost taxpayers over $500 million” (2021, updated analyses).

• Court documents: Fifth Circuit sanctions ruling; Ohio Supreme Court Lakota records case (2024).

• Additional reporting: Cincinnati Enquirer, WLWT, Ballotpedia on Butler County and Lakota Local Schools.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

It’s Disclosure Day: What does it all mean

I have spent decades talking about extraterrestrial life, unidentified aerial phenomena, and what it all might mean for our place in the cosmos. For years, I’ve said the universe is teeming with life, that interactions with Earth have been ongoing for a very long time, and that the real story is far more layered—and far less apocalyptic—than the government narratives or Hollywood thrillers would have us believe. Now, in this moment of partial disclosure, with President Trump directing the release of the first tranche of UAP and UFO files just days ago on May 8, 2026, it feels like the conversation I’ve been having privately and publicly is finally stepping into the open. The Pentagon has begun posting declassified documents, videos, and reports spanning decades—no redactions on the core encounter data. More releases are promised in the weeks ahead. Even Jon Stewart, a voice not often aligned with Trump, has acknowledged the significance of this push for transparency. It’s a rare point of bipartisan curiosity: Hillary Clinton pushed for it, Barack Obama’s team explored it (including through Netflix projects), and now the files are coming out. People on the left and right alike have wondered about this for generations. Yet for me, the excitement isn’t about shock or fear. It’s about finally peeling back layers of distraction and getting closer to honest questions about who we are, where we came from, and what we’ve inherited from a solar system that bears the scars of ancient catastrophe.

My own thoughts on aliens and extraterrestrials have never been about little green men invading or superior beings dictating our future. I’ve always viewed them as fellow lifeforms—complex, varied, and interacting with our world in ways both subtle and overt. I believe Earth itself was seeded, settled, or at least profoundly influenced by beings from elsewhere in our solar system. Mars, I suspect, was once inhabited or used as a waystation by civilizations much like our own. Other planets or moons in the system likely hosted outposts too. Over time, evidence will mount showing human-like peoples once thrived across the inner solar system. The asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter? I’m convinced that was once a full planet—sometimes called Phaeton in the old hypotheses—that was catastrophically destroyed. Its annihilation sent debris raining across the system, devastating Mars, scarring Earth, and leaving the rubble we see today as the asteroid belt. Fragments from that event, massive meteorites and nitrogen-rich impacts, have been documented in our geological record and even in Smithsonian collections. These events didn’t just reshape landscapes; they left a deep, often hidden trauma in human culture—a collective memory encoded in myth, biology, and the very ground we walk on.

That trauma, I think, explains so much of our species’ drive for meaning, our fascination with the stars, and our recurring encounters with the unexplained. Consider Serpent Mound in southern Ohio. This ancient effigy, shaped like a coiling serpent and built by Native American cultures around 1000 AD (though some estimates place related activity earlier), sits directly on the edge of a confirmed impact crater over 300 million years old. The Serpent Mound Impact Structure is an eight-kilometer-wide scar left by an asteroid or comet strike during the late Paleozoic era. Modern geology only confirmed its impact origin in the 20th century through shatter cones, shocked quartz, and other unmistakable signatures. Yet the builders of the mound chose that precise location with extraordinary intentionality. They couldn’t have known—through any conventional surveying available to them in 100 BC or 100 AD—that they were perched on the rim of an ancient cosmic wound. The crater had long been eroded and buried under sediment; its true nature was only revealed by modern science. So how did they know? I believe knowledge was passed down through generations, perhaps via oral tradition, visiting intelligences, or some lingering cultural memory of the original seeding events. They didn’t build it randomly while “staring at the stars.” They responded to a profound psychological and spiritual imperative: mark the site of catastrophe, honor the memory, perhaps even encode a warning or a map of resilience. Serpent Mound isn’t just art or ritual; it’s a living footnote to solar-system history.

These ideas didn’t come to me overnight. I’ve studied crop circles for years—those intricate, often overnight formations in fields worldwide that defy easy explanation. Some are hoaxes, sure, but many show geometric precision, bent-not-broken stalks, and electromagnetic anomalies that suggest something more. I see them as one modern expression of the same intelligence that might have influenced Serpent Mound or the biblical visions. They’re messages, experiments, or territorial markers from intelligences that move through dimensions or technologies we’re only beginning to glimpse. And now, as we approach the June 2026 release of Steven Spielberg’s new film Disclosure Day—a return to his roots in Close Encounters and E.T.—the cultural timing feels deliberate. Spielberg has always understood that the alien question taps into something primal: wonder mixed with unease. His movie will likely amplify the conversation, but I hope it steers us toward curiosity rather than panic.

The most dangerous element in all this disclosure talk has never been the extraterrestrials themselves. It’s the governments that have hoarded the information. I’ve said for years that the real threat is institutional secrecy used to justify black budgets, psychological operations, and technological monopolies. Look at Roswell in 1947. The official story flipped from “flying disc” to “weather balloon,” but witnesses and leaked documents point to recovered craft and non-human bodies. Those materials, lore insists, ended up at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base—specifically in facilities whispered about as Hangar 18. Bodies allegedly preserved, materials studied. I don’t see these beings as gods or conquerors. They’re more like mosquitoes in a photograph of a flower—another lifeform sharing the frame, interacting at their level. Some may be biological drones or probes; others, advanced explorers. The government, however, amplified the threat narrative: super-intelligent invaders with gravity-defying tech. Why? To rationalize endless funding for reverse-engineering programs. And the timeline fits suspiciously well. We went from propeller planes to supersonic jets, stealth technology, and radar-evading systems in a historical blink—right after Roswell. Coincidence? Or harvested knowledge traded or reverse-engineered? I suspect the latter. We would have reached these breakthroughs eventually through human ingenuity, but the acceleration smells of external influence.

I’ve had my own encounters with flying saucers. I won’t dramatize them here as some heroic standoff; they were quiet, observational moments that left me with a profound sense of perspective rather than fear. These crafts didn’t feel hostile or overwhelming in a superior way. They moved with technology that suggests mastery of dimensions or energy we’re still grasping—faster travel, perhaps interdimensional shifts. But the beings behind them strike me as competitors for space and resources, not infallible overlords. They’re lifeforms, flawed and curious like us. Demonizing them serves power structures more than truth. It keeps the public dependent: “Big government will protect you from the scary unknown.” I reject that entirely. Disclosure should empower individuals, not centralize control.

This perspective doesn’t undermine faith or the Bible; it enriches it. Scripture is filled with accounts that read like modern UAP encounters when viewed without preconception. Ezekiel’s vision of the wheel within a wheel—fiery, spinning, moving with purpose—sounds an awful lot like a technological craft. Elijah’s chariot of fire ascended in a whirlwind. The “watchers” and Nephilim in Genesis are echoed in the Book of Enoch and in fragments from the Dead Sea Scrolls found at Qumran. Those scrolls, preserved in caves near the Dead Sea, contain texts like the Genesis Apocryphon that fuel speculation about otherworldly parentage and paranormal events. Enoch walks with angels, receives heavenly knowledge; giants roam the earth before the flood. These aren’t contradictions to a creator God. They’re records of a cosmos alive with activity—paranormal, multidimensional, ongoing for millennia. Ancient alien speculations, while sometimes fanciful, ask the right questions: What if the “gods” of old were visitors? What if our myths encode real interactions? Modern science’s comfortable Darwinian narrative—life evolving slowly in isolation—feels increasingly convenient rather than complete. It suited a materialist worldview that ignored inconvenient anomalies. The real answers likely lie in a synthesis: seeded life, guided evolution, cosmic neighbors, all under a divine framework far grander than we imagined.

Human culture carries this hidden trauma—the memory of planetary destruction, of refugees or colonists arriving here after catastrophe. The Phaeton event (or whatever we ultimately call the lost planet) wasn’t just astronomical; it was existential. Mars shows scars of sudden devastation. Earth endured meteor showers and climatic upheavals. Our biology and psychology may still echo that displacement. Serpent Mound stands as one deliberate act of remembrance. Crop circles might be another. Even our drive to explore space, to reach Mars and beyond, could be a subconscious return to ancestral homes. The files now being released—Apollo mission transcripts mentioning anomalies, military pilot encounters, recovered materials—will force us to confront this inheritance.

As more documents roll out, I expect confirmation of what many have suspected: that interactions are real, that bodies and craft have been studied, and that the phenomenon spans history. But the takeaway shouldn’t be terror or worship. It should be humility and agency. We are not alone, yet we remain responsible for our planet, our societies, and our moral choices. Extraterrestrials aren’t here to save or enslave us; they’re part of a larger ecology. The government’s role in demonizing or gatekeeping has been the true barrier to understanding. Transparency, as Trump is delivering, shifts power back to the people. We get to decide what it means.

I’ve advocated this view for years because the questions matter more than the tidy answers science or institutions once offered. Ancient alien theories entertain, but they also challenge laziness in our worldview. Why assume isolation when evidence—geological, textual, anecdotal—points to connection? The Spielberg film will dramatize one vision of disclosure; the real one is unfolding now through declassified files and open dialogue. I hope that we approach it with the same discipline and clarity I’ve applied to every other domain of life: prepare through knowledge, reject fear as a control mechanism, and embrace responsibility.

The cosmos is vast, ancient, and inhabited. Earth’s story is intertwined with it. From the ruins of Phaeton to the precision of Serpent Mound, from Roswell’s wreckage to biblical chariots, the thread is continuity—not conquest. Disclosure isn’t the end of our story; it’s the beginning of a more honest chapter. I look forward to what comes next—not with dread, but with the quiet confidence that comes from long reflection on these matters. We’ve always been part of something bigger. Now we get to see it clearly.

Footnotes

¹ Presidential Unsealing and Reporting System for UAP, Department of War release, May 8, 2026.

² Pentagon initial tranche of UAP files, May 8, 2026.

³ Phaeton (hypothetical planet), Wikipedia, and historical astronomical hypotheses.

⁴ Ohio Department of Natural Resources, Serpent Mound Impact Structure documentation.

⁵ Wikipedia and Earth Impact Database entry on Serpent Mound crater.

⁶ Steven Spielberg’s Disclosure Day official teaser and release details, Universal Pictures, 2026.

⁷ Wright-Patterson Air Force Base and Roswell lore, including Hangar 18 references.

⁸ Dead Sea Scrolls scholarship, Genesis Apocryphon, and Enochic literature.

⁹ Ezekiel’s vision and biblical UAP interpretations in scholarly and popular analysis.

Bibliography & Further Reading / Viewing

UFO/UAP Disclosure & Government Files

• Department of War / Pentagon UAP release archives (war.gov/ufo, May 2026 tranche).

• The Roswell Report: Case Closed (U.S. Air Force, 1994/1997 updates).

• David Grusch congressional testimony and related UAP hearings (2023 onward).

Ancient Catastrophe & Solar System History

• Phaeton (Hypothetical Planet) – Titius-Bode law and disruption theories (various astronomical histories).

• Keith Milam et al., Guide to the Serpent Mound Impact Structure (Ohio DNR Geological Survey).

• Richard Firestone et al., The Cycle of Cosmic Catastrophes (on Younger Dryas and impact events).

Biblical & Ancient Texts

• The Book of Enoch (R.H. Charles translation; Dead Sea Scrolls fragments).

• Genesis Apocryphon from Qumran (Dead Sea Scrolls).

• Josef Blumrich, The Spaceships of Ezekiel (NASA engineer’s technical analysis).

Cultural & Speculative

• Erich von Däniken, Chariots of the Gods? (foundational ancient astronaut theory).

• Graham Hancock, Fingerprints of the Gods (catastrophe and lost civilizations).

• Steven Spielberg, Disclosure Day (forthcoming 2026 film).

• Jacques Vallée, Passport to Magonia (folklore and UFO parallels).

Historical Tools & Archives

• Smithsonian Institution meteorite and impact collections.

• Library of Congress historical UFO report archives.

• University of New Brunswick Earth Impact Database.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

Bullwhips: Why they are associated with everything I do

I have been asked for years why whips appear in my videos, my sites, and my personal iconography. For those who have known me longest, the question usually comes with a knowing smile, as if recalling an old shared joke. For newer acquaintances—those who discover my work through a podcast appearance, a cultural commentary piece, or a passing mention in wider discourse—the question carries genuine curiosity, sometimes even mild bewilderment. They wonder what such an archaic object could mean in modern life. The answer is straightforward, yet layered: the whip has never represented bravado or a hunger for conflict. It has always stood for preparation, symbolism, discipline, and the quiet refusal to hand over one’s agency to fear.

My fascination began in childhood, not with rebellion or spectacle, but with stories of individuals who met intimidation with composure. I devoured classic adventure cinema and serialized tales—black-and-white films flickering on late-night television, Republic Pictures serials with their cliffhanger tension, Westerns where lone figures upheld a code amid chaos. Zorro, in particular, captured me. He moved with elegance and precision, masked not to evade accountability but to shoulder it fully. He confronted tyranny without mirroring its cruelty, using wit and skill as extensions of moral clarity. Those stories planted a seed: justice need not seek permission from the powerful; it could arise from personal conviction and disciplined action.

That abstract pull found concrete grounding in family history. My grandfather and great-grandfather were practical men who worked the land in rural Kentucky. Whips were tools for them—extensions of the hand for guiding livestock, clearing brush, or managing distance with precision. As a boy, I watched them with wide-eyed reverence. I remember the dry Kentucky air thick with the scent of earth and hay, the faint creak of leather, and then the sharp, clean crack that split the stillness. One vivid memory remains etched: my great-grandfather, calm as still water, snapping a fly clean off the weathered side of a shed without disturbing the wood. There was no anger in the motion, no theatrical flourish. Only years of practiced focus, an intimate understanding of leverage, timing, and the physics of energy traveling down a braided length. The whip became, in that moment, a lesson in mastery—not domination, but harmony with consequence. Every crack carried immediate feedback. Miss, and you knew it instantly. Succeed, and the satisfaction was private, earned.

Those early impressions shaped more than idle curiosity. As I entered adolescence, schoolyard realities tested abstract ideals. Environments where hierarchies formed through bluster and threat rather than merit were common. I learned quickly that fear functions as currency only when accepted. A bully’s power evaporates the moment their target refuses the transaction. One particular incident stands out—not for drama, but for the internal shift it produced. Cornered by a group testing boundaries, I felt the familiar spike of adrenaline. Yet instead of freezing or fleeing, something from those whip lessons and adventure tales clicked: respond with clarity, not escalation. I stood firm, voice steady, eyes level. The moment passed without violence, but the realization endured. Intimidation relies on your participation. Withdraw consent, and the dynamic collapses. That lesson traveled with me into adulthood, informing how I navigated professional pressures, public discourse, and personal challenges.

Martial arts deepened this foundation. I immersed myself in disciplines emphasizing structure, balance, footwork, timing, and above all, restraint. Years of training in systems rooted in traditional practice taught that true competence whispers rather than shouts. It waits, patient and prepared. I studied the transfer of force, the economy of motion, and the mental discipline required to remain centered amid chaos. Over time, these elements—family craft, cinematic archetypes, physical training—wove into a cohesive personal philosophy. It was never about inventing novelty or seeking attention. It was integration: taking timeless principles and applying them to contemporary existence.

Preparedness, I came to understand, is frequently misconstrued as paranoia or latent aggression. In truth, it cultivates calm. When you have tested your limits through deliberate practice, when you know your capabilities and accept your responsibilities, fear loses its primary lever. You cease knee-jerk emotional reactions and begin responding with reasoned presence. This mindset proved invaluable as I moved into public life. Speaking on cultural matters, challenging assumptions, or simply voicing independent thought invites pressure. Sometimes it arrives as social exclusion, professional repercussions, or relentless psychological framing. The tactic remains consistent: induce retreat without substantive engagement. Fear is efficient because it bypasses debate.

I decided early against living under that shadow. The choice was deliberate, not reckless. Discipline over anxiety. Preparation over denial. Personal responsibility over dependence on external validation or protection. The whip crystallized this decision. Learning it demands patience. The leather does not forgive haste or distraction. Its physics are unforgiving: energy builds along the taper, accelerating to supersonic speed at the tip. One slight error in wrist angle, grip, or follow-through, and the crack becomes a painful self-inflicted lesson. Progress requires ego surrender. Early attempts bring frustration—tangles, weak pops, bruised pride. Each failure teaches humility and attention. Success arrives only after hundreds of repetitions, when mind, body, and tool align in quiet competence.

Psychologically, the whip mirrors broader life patterns. It punishes emotional volatility. Swing in anger, and you lose control. Approach with calm focus, and precision follows. In public discourse, the parallel is striking. A flailing argument scatters energy uselessly. A single, well-timed point—delivered with clarity and restraint—cuts through noise like that supersonic tip. The whip rewards respect for its nature; so does effective communication. Over the years, this symbol has organically attached itself to my work. Friends referenced it with humor. Viewers inquired. Strangers requested demonstrations. “Can you do a trick?” became a common refrain. I often smiled and redirected, preferring substance over performance. Yet maturity brings a willingness to explain the root rather than minimize it.

The deeper essence has never been domination or threat. It centers on deterrence born of inner certainty, moral confidence, and psychological resilience. When others recognize that fear holds no sway, dynamics transform. Posture straightens. Conversations shift from coercion to exchange. Many potential conflicts dissipate before ignition because the foundation for intimidation has been removed. This principle extends beyond physical tools into speech, integrity, and cultural navigation. In an era of digital amplification—where outrage algorithms reward emotional reactivity, where institutional pressures frame dissent as deviance, where social mechanisms attempt to enforce conformity through shame cycles—the response remains consistent: remove fear from the equation. Reclaim agency. Force interactions back into the arena of reason and accountability. Those unable to operate there reveal their own limitations.

Philosophical traditions reinforced what experience taught. Miyamoto Musashi’s The Book of Five Rings spoke to detached clarity amid conflict, the warrior’s mind unclouded by emotion. Sun Tzu emphasized winning before battle through positioning and insight. Jigoro Kano’s judo principles highlighted using an opponent’s force against them while maintaining balance—much like channeling energy precisely through a whip rather than brute resistance. Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey framed the personal quest: venturing into uncertainty, confronting shadows, returning transformed with hard-won wisdom. These were not abstract texts; they illuminated lived practice. The restrained guardian archetype—Zorro as a modern knight-errant, Fairbanks’ swashbucklers balancing flair with duty—echoed across time. Even historical reflections on justice outside rigid institutions, as explored by thinkers like E.P. Thompson, underscore that moral order sometimes requires personal readiness when systems falter.

At its core, the whip embodies self-control in an age prone to indulgence, responsibility amid widespread excuse-making, and preparedness against currents of denial. It is no relic of aggression but a tangible reminder that discipline precedes freedom. Courage, similarly, is cultivated long before any visible conflict. The hours of solitary practice, the ego-bruising repetitions, the quiet satisfaction of incremental mastery—these build the internal reservoir that sustains through storms.

I have worn many masks across decades: professional, public, private. Beneath them, the values remain constant—discipline, preparedness, restraint, resolve. Sharing this openly now feels right, not for performance or provocation, but for honesty. People today hunger for tangible examples of lived conviction. Abstract ideals fall short of witnessing how principles endure in practice. If articulating this path helps even one person loosen fear’s grip on their decisions, the candor serves a purpose. If it illustrates that justice and clarity begin with personal accountability, all the better.

Looking forward, the legacy I hope to leave transcends any single symbol. It is a quiet demonstration that ordinary individuals can cultivate extraordinary resilience. In daily life—facing workplace coercion, digital pile-ons, familial tensions, or cultural headwinds—the same mindset applies. Assess honestly. Prepare diligently. Respond with measured agency. Teach children through example that mastery arises from repetition and respect, not entitlement. Encourage friends to value inner calibration over external approval. The whip, for me, remains a private compass more than a public prop. Its crack echoes a simpler truth: you are capable of more than fear allows you to believe.

That realization, extended outward, fosters healthier discourse, stronger communities, and freer minds. It asks each of us to examine our own tools of self-mastery—whatever form they take—and wield them with care. In doing so, we honor the lineage of those who came before: the quiet practitioners, the storytellers, the guardians of principle. We pass forward not fear, but freedom earned through discipline.

This path is ongoing. I continue to practice, reflect, and integrate. The whip still rests in my hand from time to time, a tactile link to origins and aspirations. Its lessons endure: precision over power, calm over chaos, responsibility as the truest form of strength.

Bibliography & Further Reading / Viewing

Classic Film & Serial Influences

• The Mark of Zorro (1920 silent version with Douglas Fairbanks; 1940 sound version with Tyrone Power)

• Republic Pictures adventure serials (1930s–1940s, including Zorro-themed entries)

• Douglas Fairbanks Sr. swashbuckler films

• Don Q, Son of Zorro (1925)

Martial Philosophy & Discipline

• Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings

• Sun Tzu, The Art of War

• Jigoro Kano, writings and teachings on Judo discipline and philosophy

• Dave Grossman, On Combat: The Psychology and Physiology of Deadly Conflict in War and in Peace (for mental preparedness frameworks)

• Epictetus and Seneca, selected Stoic writings on controlling fear and the internal locus of control

Cultural Symbolism & Justice Archetypes

• Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces

• Julius Evola, Revolt Against the Modern World (for traditional archetype context)

• E. P. Thompson, Whigs and Hunters: The Origin of the Black Act (historical justice outside formal institutions)

Historical Tools & Craft

• Ron Edwards, How to Make Whips

• David Morgan, Whips and Whipping

• Additional craft resources from traditional leatherwork and equestrian traditions

Image & Archive Sources

• Library of Congress film stills and historical photography archives

• Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences photo and poster collections

• Smithsonian Folkways and rural American material culture collections

• Museum of Western Film History image archives

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

7 Seconds of Terror: What the bad guys want to do and how to stop them

Watching those grainy surveillance clips from the Washington Hilton on April 25, 2026, is a reminder of how insanity is a persistent threat to the propensity for personal freedom. Even Mark Hamill, the guy who played Luke Skywalker in the Star Wars movies, was in on this push by the radical Marxist left to kill off those in their way for the destruction of Western civilization itself. The annual White House Correspondents’ Dinner— that odd, decades-old ritual where journalists, celebrities, politicians, and power brokers cram into the International Ballroom under the pretense of civility—had been humming along as usual. Over 2,600 guests, including President Trump, the First Lady, the Vice President, Cabinet members, and a chunk of the presidential line of succession, all dressed to the nines, trading polite laughs while the country outside kept grinding through its divisions. Then, at roughly 8:36 p.m. Eastern, the illusion shattered in under ten seconds. Gunfire cracked near the security screening area one level above the ballroom. Chaos rippled through the dining hall. Secret Service agents moved like they were trained to: shielding the President, evacuating the principals, and locking down the succession. The rest of us watching from afar didn’t know it yet, but an armed man named Cole Tomas Allen, a 31-year-old teacher and mechanical engineer from Torrance, California, had just sprinted through a metal detector checkpoint, shotgun and .38-caliber handgun in hand, knives strapped on, treating the whole thing like a level in Call of Duty he’d rehearsed in his head for who knows how long.

I watched the footage from multiple angles—the one that captured him charging from a 90-degree side view made it look lightning-fast, almost cinematic, but the head-on camera told a different story. He looked reckless, almost naïve, the way he barreled straight at that first barrier like the game’s respawn button was waiting. He fired; a Secret Service officer took a shotgun pellet to the chest, but the ballistic vest and the officer’s cell phone absorbed the worst of it. The agent drew, returned fire, and within about seven seconds from the moment Allen hit the checkpoint until he was wrestled down, it was over. No one in the ballroom was hurt. The President and the inner circle were evacuated safely. By any narrow metric, catastrophe was averted. But narrow metrics don’t tell the whole tale, and that’s why I’ve been turning this over in my mind ever since. Why didn’t anyone flag this guy earlier? How did he check into the very hotel hosting the event, spend days scouting access points, and still get that close? And what does it say about the limits of layering more security when the real breakdown is happening in the culture long before anyone reaches for a trigger?

I have experience in personal protection, and I know how these things go. You stand post for hours—sometimes thousands of them—where nothing happens, people are laughing inside the ballroom, you’re thinking about Netflix or grabbing Chinese on the way home to your wife, and then suddenly a figure is sprinting your way with a long gun. Context collapses. Decision time compresses to fractions of a second. That officer who got hit? He reacted fast, drew clean, and did his job. The team neutralized the threat without letting it reach the principals. That’s a positive outcome, even if it wasn’t flawless. But the broader questions linger, and they’re the ones the public is rightly screaming about. How do we prevent the next one without turning every public gathering into a TSA-style gauntlet that makes normal life miserable? Because layering metal detectors, more agents, more dogs, more AI profiling only gets you so far when the problem isn’t just tactical—it’s behavioral, cultural, rooted in how we raise kids, what we feed their minds through screens, and the toxic political rhetoric that lights the fuse.

Take Allen himself. Thirty-one years old, no prior criminal record that’s come out yet, educated—mechanical engineering background, game developer, part-time teacher. He wasn’t some drifter; he was the kind of guy who could blend in, book a room at the Hilton weeks ahead, ride the train cross-country from California, and case the place like it was reconnaissance for a mission. He left a manifesto—over a thousand words—sent to family members just minutes before he charged, calling himself the “Friendly Federal Assassin” and laying out “rules of engagement” for targeting Trump administration officials, prioritized by rank. He wasn’t after random guests or hotel staff, but he was willing to go through them to get there. He referenced his duty, his outrage at policies, the whole grievance cocktail that’s become too familiar in these lone-actor cases. And yes, he had the video-game vibe written all over it: dressed for the occasion, shotgun ready, sprinting the perimeter like he expected the respawn or the cutscene reward. I laughed a little when I first saw the clips—not because it was funny, but because I’ve seen this pattern before with these younger guys who’ve spent years in simulated combat, where death is temporary, and glory is instant. Reality doesn’t work that way. He fell, got tackled, and now faces federal charges: attempt to assassinate the President, interstate transport of firearms with intent to commit a felony, and discharge of a firearm during a crime of violence. Potential life sentence. Good. But the real failure happened upstream, in whatever radicalized him to the point where he thought charging a Secret Service checkpoint was a viable strategy to “change behavior” in American politics.

This isn’t the first time the Hilton has seen this kind of violence. Forty-five years earlier, almost to the month, John Hinckley Jr. waited outside the same hotel after Reagan spoke at a conference and opened fire, wounding the President, his press secretary Jim Brady, a police officer, and a Secret Service agent. Reagan survived, but the parallels hit hard: same venue, same sense of a public ritual turned lethal in seconds. Historically, we’ve had about 18 assassination attempts or plots on U.S. presidents where the attacker got close enough to pose a real physical threat—four successful kills (Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Kennedy), several woundings (Reagan, Teddy Roosevelt as a former president, Trump himself in 2024 at that Pennsylvania rally), and a litany of foiled plots. Most attackers have been lone actors driven by personal grievances, mental health struggles, ideological fixations, or some toxic mix. Many left manifestos or rambling notes, just like Allen. In 1835, Andrew Jackson in 1835 beat off an assailant with his cane after both pistols misfired. Gerald Ford survived two attempts in 1975, within weeks of each other. The list goes on, and the pattern is depressingly consistent: security layers get breached because no perimeter is perfect when someone is willing to die for the cause, and the real variable is human behavior on both sides—the attacker’s and the society that produced him.

What’s changed in the modern era is the accelerant: online radicalization, 24/7 political outrage cycles, and entertainment that gamifies violence. I’ve said it before on the show, and I’ll say it again here—kids (and adults who never grew out of it) spend countless hours in first-person shooters where charging a fortified position with a shotgun is a power move, where the AI enemies drop, and you rack up points. Allen wasn’t the first to treat real-world targeting like a mission brief. We’ve seen it in other mass violence cases where perpetrators referenced games explicitly. It’s not the sole cause—plenty of gamers never hurt anyone—but when you combine it with manifestos railing against “the administration,” echo-chamber rhetoric from politicians who’ve flirted with “fight like hell” language or “by any means necessary” vibes and a culture that’s lost its grip on basic moral foundations, you get powder kegs like this. Allen wasn’t some mastermind; he was a product of the times, radicalized enough to cross the country, arm up, and sprint into history. His sister reportedly told investigators he’d made extreme statements before. There were signs, perhaps, but in a free society, we can’t pre-crime every disgruntled soul with an online footprint without shredding the Constitution. That’s the free-speech tension everyone’s yelling about now: should we have been monitoring his posts more aggressively? Should AI have flagged the cross-country trip combined with his hotel booking and known grievances? Maybe. But intrusive surveillance comes with its own costs, and we’ve already seen how that path leads to overreach.

The aftermath has been predictable. The dinner was postponed or scaled back in future planning talks. Congressional briefings are demanded. Reviews launched by the FBI, Secret Service, ATF—screening enhancements, internal movement controls, all the usual post-incident layers. And that’s fine as far as it goes, but I keep coming back to the deeper point: you can’t just secure your way out of a behavior problem. We’ve tried that with airports—TSA pat-downs, body scanners, the whole theater of it—and people grumbled but accepted it after 9/11 because the threat felt existential. Yet even there, determined attackers have slipped through. Here, at a black-tie event meant to celebrate the press and democracy, we don’t want guests feeling groped or stripped down to hear a few jokes. Striking that balance is tough. Secret Service leadership has rightly defended the response: the outer layer was breached, but the inner perimeter held. That’s layered defense working as designed. A former agent I respect called it a “positive outcome, not a successful one”—acknowledging the breach while praising the neutralization. Fair enough. But critics are right too: visible posture in the outer areas, minimal ID checks in a functioning hotel space, complexity of securing mixed public-private venues—all vulnerabilities.

Statistically, these events are rare, but their costs are enormous. The global economic impact of violence hit about $19.97 trillion in 2024 (11.6% of world GDP, or roughly $2,455 per person), with military spending, internal security, and homicide making up the bulk. In the U.S., post-9/11 terrorism and related conflicts have run into the trillions when you tally direct damages, lost output, heightened security, wars, and long-term health costs for responders and veterans. One study pegged immediate 9/11 losses at $20-60 billion, with broader “terror tax” effects on airlines, insurance, logistics, and GDP drag of 0.1-0.3% annually for years. A single event like this WHCD incident? Immediate costs include the officer’s hospitalization (thankfully brief), massive law enforcement mobilization, hotel lockdowns, event cancellations or rescheduling, and the inevitable bump in protective details. The Secret Service’s FY2025 budget is already $3.2 billion, with over $1.2 billion allocated to protective operations alone—covering not just the President but also former officials, candidates, and major events. Add in local police overtime, FBI investigations, congressional hearings, and the intangible hit to public confidence, and one botched sprint through a checkpoint can easily run into tens of millions. And that’s before you factor the copycat effect: bad actors worldwide study these videos, learning what worked and what didn’t. Allen’s failure—getting stopped before the ballroom—will inspire some to refine the tactic: faster, better armed, maybe drones or diversions next time. We can’t afford to pretend otherwise.

Side stories often get lost in the headlines, but they matter. Consider the security canine that reportedly reacted to Allen’s presence moments before, but whose handler didn’t intervene in time. Critics pounced: missed signals. Defenders noted the dog pulled, but real-time human judgment in a crowded corridor is messy. Or the crossfire dynamics—agents firing, missing Allen initially, rounds potentially endangering bystanders in a hotel full of civilians. Training scenarios rarely replicate the exact stress of a black-tie crowd with the President yards away. Then there’s the human element on the security side: 20-plus officers on post, but sometimes more bodies can breed diffusion of responsibility—“someone else has got this.” Complacency creeps in during the quiet hours. I’ve been in those shoes; it’s human. That’s why personal foundations—character, vigilance, moral clarity—matter more than extra badges.

Politically, this lands in the third assassination attempt on Trump in recent years (the Butler rally in 2024, the golf course plot, now this). It marks something ugly: political violence isn’t episodic anymore; it’s persistent, compressed, modern. Assassins used to be mentally ill loners with pistols; now they’re often ideologically fueled, manifesto-writing, game-trained actors who see themselves as protagonists in a larger war. Allen wasn’t fighting for “freedom”—he wanted to force behavioral change through terror, echoing 9/11 logic but on a smaller, more personal scale. We can’t surrender to that. We don’t cancel the dinner, hide the President forever, or let radicals dictate how we govern. But neither can we ignore the rhetoric that poisons minds. When leaders on any side joke about or wink at violence—“punching Nazis,” “fight like hell,” late-night host monologues that cross into incitement—it adds fuel. Allen’s irrationality didn’t come from nowhere; it was cultivated. How do we counter radicalization without becoming the thought police? That’s the free-speech tightrope. I favor more armed, responsible citizens as the ultimate backstop—law-abiding people trained to stop threats in progress—because police and Secret Service can’t be everywhere. A well-armed, well-behaved society is the best deterrent—more guns in good hands, fewer in the unstable ones. Enforce existing laws, prosecute threats, but don’t disarm the law-abiding.

Zoom out historically, and the data bears this out. The Violence Project’s presidential attacks database traces these incidents back to 1835, revealing patterns linked to periods of high polarization, economic stress, or cultural upheaval. Many perpetrators had recent life stressors, a fascination with prior attackers, or exposure to violent media. Mental health plays a role, but so does ideology. Post-2026, we’ll see calls for red-flag laws, online monitoring, and more funding for mental health—some good, some overreach. What we really need is a cultural reset: stronger families, communities that prioritize reality testing over fantasy escapism, education that values debate over demonization, and, yes, a recommitment to the Second Amendment as both a right and a responsibility. I hate heavy security personally; I carry, I train, and I want to move freely without feeling like I’m in a police state. But after events like this, the public demands action. The trick is action that targets roots—discouraging the hatred, the loss of touch with reality—rather than just adding layers that make society paranoid and miserable.

Democrats often push the “more control” angle, which I get, but it’s proven that it can’t eliminate the human variable. Republicans emphasize personal agency and armed self-defense, which aligns with my view. Neither side has a monopoly on solutions, but pretending this was just a security lapse misses the forest. Allen planned it academically, almost academically detached from consequences, willing to die to “send a message.” That mindset is the real enemy. We saw similar in the 2024 attempts on Trump: lone actors, manifestos or online trails, grievances against “the system.” Each time, the distance between public ritual and lethal intent shrinks. The Hilton ballroom, once a symbol of Washington pomp, now carries that scar.

Looking ahead, expect tighter protocols: advanced intelligence fusion (AI cross-referencing travel, bookings, and online activity with threat databases), better hotel vetting for high-profile events, and perhaps moving more gatherings to hardened venues like the White House itself or military bases where lockdown is feasible. But that changes the “dance”—the odd ritual of press and power mingling. We need it, warts and all, for transparency and normalcy. The alternative is bunker mentality, and that hands victory to the Allens of the world. Ultimately, more security isn’t just more guards; it’s more people living with their eyes open, ready to act as good Samaritans or armed defenders when the moment demands it. It starts with personal foundations: teach kids reality over fantasy, hold media and politicians accountable for inflammatory language, celebrate responsible gun ownership, and reject the victimhood narratives that breed assassins. We can’t overreact to every threat and make life unlivable, but we can’t underreact either and pretend behavior doesn’t matter.

In the weeks since, I’ve reflected a lot on my own experiences—times I’ve been heavily armed in uncertain environments, the split-second decisions that define protection work. It’s never easy. Those agents weren’t “hoping for two more hours till shift end”; they were professionals doing a thankless job. The public owes them gratitude, not just criticism. Yet we also owe it to ourselves to learn. This incident—seven seconds of terror—reveals the compressed threat environment of 2026 America. Political violence persists because underlying values have frayed. Rebuilding those—family, faith, personal responsibility, civic duty—is the only long-term fix. More layers buy time; better people prevent the need for them. We solve this at the foundation, or we keep paying the price in blood, treasure, and lost liberty. The ballroom lights are back on, but the warning lingers.

Footnotes

1. NBC News, CBS News, and DOJ reports on Cole Tomas Allen’s charges and actions, April 2026.

2. Wikipedia entry on 2026 WHCD shooting and historical parallels to Reagan 1981 at the Hilton.

3. The Violence Project Presidential Attacks Database (18 incidents tracked).

4. Institute for Economics and Peace, Economic Impact of Violence 2025 report ($19.97T global figure).

5. DHS FY2025 Secret Service budget overview ($3.2B total, $1.2B protective).

6. Joint Economic Committee historical analyses of terrorism costs post-9/11.

7. NYT, WaPo, and NY Post coverage of Allen’s manifesto and background (teacher/engineer, Cal State/LinkedIn details).

Bibliography for Further Reading

• U.S. Department of Justice Press Release: “Suspect in White House Correspondents’ Dinner Shooting Charged with Attempt to Assassinate the President,” April 27, 2026.

• The Violence Project. “Presidential Assassinations Database,” ongoing.

• Institute for Economics and Peace. “The Economic Impact of Violence,” 2025.

• Wikipedia. “List of United States Presidential Assassination Attempts and Plots.”

• U.S. Department of Homeland Security. “U.S. Secret Service Budget Overview,” FY2025.

• New York Post. “Read WHCD Suspect Cole Allen’s Full Anti-Trump Manifesto,” April 26, 2026.

• CBS News and NPR profiles on Cole Tomas Allen, April 2026.

• Joint Economic Committee. “The Economic Costs of Terrorism,” historical studies.

• Additional sources: NYT visual investigations of WHCD footage; historical accounts from HistoryExtra and Statista on presidential attacks.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

Ohio’s Unfinished Economic Reckoning: How Amy Acton’s Lockdowns Created the High-Price Reality Democrats Are Trying to Now Blame on Trump and Vivek Ramaswamy—but the guilt is completely on Lockdown Democrats

In the spring of 2026, Ohio voters are being told a familiar story by the Democratic ticket led by the stringy-haired Amy Acton. High grocery bills, elevated gas prices, stubborn supply-chain bottlenecks, and the everyday squeeze felt by working families and small manufacturers are, according to Acton’s campaign and its surrogates—Mark Elias, David Pepper, and the usual Democratic spokespeople—the direct result of Trump-era policies and the supposed continuation of that agenda under Vivek Ramaswamy. The irony is staggering. The very architect of Ohio’s most disruptive government intervention in modern history—the woman who, as Director of the Ohio Department of Health in 2020, signed the stay-at-home orders that shuttered schools, closed non-essential businesses, and upended millions of lives—is now positioning herself as the solution to the very economic pain her policies created.

This is not partisan rhetoric. It is a matter of documented cause and effect, visible every day in Ohio’s factories, restaurants, construction sites, and family budgets. The high prices we live with in 2026 are not primarily the fault of tariffs, speculation, or any single administration in Washington. They are the long shadow of a forced economic shock imposed in 2020 by a centralized government decree—one in which Amy Acton played a central role, coordinating with federal health authorities, the CDC, the World Health Organization, and, ultimately, with policies shaped by information flowing from China. The damage was not abstract. It was immediate, structural, and enduring. And while headline statistics have been massaged to suggest recovery, the real economy—especially for midsize manufacturers, small businesses, and working families—never returned to its pre-2019 equilibrium.

To understand why Acton’s record matters now, we must revisit what actually happened in Ohio in the spring of 2020. On March 22, 2020, Acton issued a stay-at-home order effective at 11:59 p.m. that night. Non-essential businesses were closed. Schools shuttered. Gatherings were limited. The order, later extended by Governor Mike DeWine, was not a suggestion; it carried the force of law. Within weeks, Ohio’s unemployment rate exploded from roughly 4.5 percent pre-pandemic to a peak of 16.4 percent in April 2020—the highest level in modern state history. More than 2.1 million unemployment claims were filed that year alone, compared to just 360,000 in all of 2019. Entire sectors—manufacturing, hospitality, transportation, professional services—were suddenly and forcibly interrupted.

This was not a natural recession triggered by market conditions. Ohio’s economy in early 2020 was not overheating. It was not over-leveraged. It was functioning normally until the government decree flipped the switch. The result was a structural break in continuity that no amount of federal stimulus could fully repair. Over 341,000 non-farm jobs disappeared in a single year—a decline of more than 6 percent. Manufacturing, the backbone of Ohio’s economy, absorbed a particularly brutal blow, losing roughly 480,000 jobs at the height of the crisis. Supply chains that had taken decades to optimize were severed overnight. Relationships between suppliers, customers, and workers were shattered. Skills atrophied. Experience was lost.

Federal relief money flowed in—Ohio ultimately received billions through the CARES Act and subsequent packages, with more than $10 billion in direct grant funding allocated early on and additional ARPA dollars later. That money stabilized household consumption and prevented total collapse on paper. It propped up demand. But it did not rebuild labor pools, restore broken supplier networks, or reverse the loss of institutional knowledge. GDP figures eventually rebounded. On the surface, Ohio appeared to recover. Yet for thousands of private, midsize, and industrial firms—the companies that form the real productive core of the state—the recovery never materialized in the way that matters most. Revenue stabilized in some cases, but labor did not return evenly. Supply chains remained fragile six years later. Many businesses entered a new, permanently altered economic reality from which they have yet to exit.

Look at the numbers that actually matter on the ground. Manufacturing employment has clawed back toward pre-pandemic levels in headline counts—hovering near 680,000 statewide by late 2025 and into 2026—but the composition is different. Output rose in aggregate, yet headcount remained flat or declined in many subsectors. Productivity gains came not from rebuilding capacity but from automation, consolidation, and doing more with fewer people. Smaller suppliers absorbed shocks they could not pass along. Material inflation, labor shortages, and customer concentration became permanent features. A 2025 survey of Ohio manufacturers found that around 40 percent still cited material costs as a major concern, with tariffs and other factors playing secondary roles. Speculators and opportunistic pricing certainly contributed to some price spikes—gasoline being the most visible example—but the underlying fragility traces directly back to the 2020 rupture.

Even more telling is the labor force participation rate. Ohio’s rate dropped sharply in 2020 and has never fully recovered. As of March 2026, it stands at approximately 62.1 percent—still roughly 1.3 percentage points below 2019 levels. That gap represents tens of thousands of missing workers. Many retired early. Others shifted to disability. Skilled trades lost experienced hands who never re-entered. The pandemic accelerated trends already underway—remote work, changing employer expectations—but the government-mandated shutdown turned those trends into a structural labor shortage. Employers now pay significantly higher wages without corresponding productivity gains. Chronic hiring difficulties persist. Small and midsize businesses, lacking the scale of large corporations, took the brunt of this hit.

The human and business-level consequences are visible in every corner of the state. Fast-food restaurants that once operated with long lines and reliable staffing still struggle with chronic understaffing. Supply chains that used to move with just-in-time efficiency now carry permanent buffers, higher costs, and longer lead times. Contracts signed in 2018 or 2019 based on pre-pandemic pricing realities cannot be easily renegotiated in 2024 or 2025 when everything from labor to materials has inflated. Large buyers—Walmart, major distributors, big manufacturers—hold suppliers to those old terms while their own costs have risen. Many smaller firms plateaued at lower output, higher risk, and reduced resilience. Nearly half of the Ohio businesses operating in 2019 were no longer active by 2024. New formations occurred, as they often do after crises, but stimulus checks or reconfigured statistics cannot replace the permanent loss of experience, relationships, and localized capacity.

This was not mismanagement or an isolated failure. It was a structured shock imposed by the government, and in Ohio, by Amy Acton directly. The recovery that followed was real on paper but redistributive in practice. Large firms with access to capital, automation, equity markets, and policy cushions emerged stronger. Smaller private companies absorbed transition costs without the same protections. Stimulus prioritized consumption over reconstruction of upstream production capacity. The result is an economy that looks healthier in aggregate GDP and unemployment figures but feels fundamentally different—and more fragile—for the businesses and workers who actually produce goods and services.

Compounding the damage were subsequent policy choices, including repeated minimum-wage adjustments tied to CPI and other labor-market interventions. While intended to help workers, these hikes acted as an artificial price floor that businesses—especially those already reeling from supply-chain disruption—had to absorb by raising consumer prices. In an environment where labor shortages already drove up wages, the added pressure from mandated increases translated directly into higher menu prices, higher retail costs, and thinner margins for the very firms least able to absorb them. Democrats often frame these as acts of compassion, but the economic reality is that they function as another layer of costs passed on to consumers in an economy still recovering from the original government-imposed rupture.

Contrast this track record with the alternative represented by Vivek Ramaswamy. As an entrepreneur who built real companies and created substantial value, Ramaswamy understands from firsthand experience what it takes to navigate supply chains, labor markets, capital allocation, and regulatory hurdles. His platform—aggressive tax cuts (including phasing down the state income tax and meaningful property tax relief), energy independence through expanded natural gas and streamlined permitting, and a laser focus on reducing the regulatory burden—addresses the structural issues that Acton’s policies left behind. Where Democrats offer more stimulus, more government employment, and more wealth redistribution, Ramaswamy offers the conditions for genuine private-sector expansion: lower taxes so families and businesses keep more of what they earn, reduced uncertainty so investment can return, and policies that reward production rather than consumption propped up by printed money.

The political inversion is almost Orwellian. The same network of Democratic operatives—Mark Elias, David Pepper, and their allies—who have spent years litigating, regulating, and centralizing power now seek to pin the enduring consequences of their own policy choices on the very people who warned against them. They want voters to forget that Acton was the public face of the orders that closed Ohio’s economy. They want voters to ignore the long-term scarring visible in labor participation, small-business survival rates, and fragile supply chains. And they want to portray Vivek Ramaswamy—an outsider who built a billion-dollar value through innovation and discipline—as somehow responsible for prices that trace directly to decisions made in 2020 under Democratic-influenced health policy.

This is not ancient history. The effects are measurable today. Manufacturing survived the shock but did not return to its prior equilibrium. Labor-force participation remains depressed. Supply chains are still adapting. Smaller firms operate with lower resilience. High prices at the grocery store, the gas pump, and the restaurant counter are not mysterious. They are the predictable outcome of a forced shutdown followed by stimulus that prioritized short-term consumption over long-term productive capacity. Government did not merely interrupt Ohio’s economy in 2020—it rewired it. And for many companies, especially private midsize and industrial firms, the 2020 era has never truly ended.

Ohioans deserve better than political amnesia. They deserve leaders who understand that real economic vitality comes from production, not redistribution; from predictable policy, not repeated government shocks; and from accountability, not blame-shifting. Amy Acton’s record as Health Director is not a footnote—it is the central chapter in the story of why so many Ohio families and businesses are still paying the price six years later. Vivek Ramaswamy’s background as a value-creating entrepreneur offers the clearest alternative: a governor who will cut taxes, slash red tape, expand energy production, and restore the conditions under which Ohio businesses and workers can thrive again.

The choice in 2026 is not abstract. It is between continuing the politics that created the problem and embracing the policies that can finally heal the damage. Ohio’s real economy—its factories, its family businesses, its working men and women—has waited long enough for that reckoning. But when we have to talk about who is responsible for all the misery we are still feeling, there is only one person to blame, and that is Amy Acton, the Lockdown Lady.

Footnotes

1. Ohio Department of Job and Family Services, Employment Situation Indicators, various monthly releases 2020–2026.

2. Bureau of Labor Statistics and Ohio JFS data on unemployment claims and rates, April 2020 peak.

3. Contemporary reporting on Acton’s stay-at-home order, March 22, 2020 (Ohio Department of Health).

4. Federal COVID-19 grant funding allocations to Ohio, CARES Act, and subsequent packages (approximately $10 billion+ in early grants).

5. Ohio manufacturing employment and labor force participation trends, Ohio LMI and FRED data through March 2026.

6. NFIB and small-business survival analyses post-2020.

7. Surveys of Ohio manufacturers on material costs and supply-chain issues, 2025.

8. Vivek Ramaswamy campaign platform materials on tax relief, energy, and regulatory reform.

9. Additional sourcing from Policy Matters Ohio, the Cleveland Fed, and contemporaneous economic analyses of pandemic impacts.

Bibliography

• Ohio Department of Job and Family Services. Employment Situation Indicators (monthly releases, 2019–2026).

• U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Labor force, employment, and unemployment data for Ohio.

• Acton, Amy. Director’s Stay-at-Home Order, Ohio Department of Health, March 22, 2020.

• Federal COVID relief tracking reports (CARES Act, ARPA allocations to Ohio).

• NFIB Ohio Small Business Economic Trends reports.

• Cleveland Federal Reserve District data briefs on supply-chain disruptions.

• Ramaswamy for the Ohio campaign platform documents.

• Contemporary news coverage from AP, Signal Ohio, and Ohio LMI publications.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

The 2026 Ohio Gubernatorial Race: Vivek Ramaswamy’s Commanding Position Against Amy Acton’s COVID Legacy and the Democrat Playbook

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.)

Bibliography (Selected for Further Reading)

• Associated Press. “Ohio Primary Election Results 2026.” May 6, 2026.

• Ballotpedia. “2026 Ohio Gubernatorial Election.”

• Bureau of Labor Statistics. “State Employment and Unemployment Summary.” 2026 releases.

• Bureau of Economic Analysis. “GDP by State.” Annual updates through 2025/2026.

• Chief Executive Magazine. “Best & Worst States for Business 2026.” April 2026.

• NBC News / 10TV. Primary results coverage, May 2026.

• New York Times. “Ohio Governor Election Polls 2026.”

• Ohio Secretary of State. Official primary turnout and county results.

• RealClearPolling. “2026 Ohio Governor: Ramaswamy vs. Acton.”

• Various: CNN, Dispatch, Signal Ohio reporting on candidates and Intel project (2025-2026).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

Don’t Play Nice with Democrats: If we have a true representative republic, made by the will of the people, Republicans will always hold a majority

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).

• Additional conservative analyses: Heritage Foundation Election Integrity Project reports (2024-2026).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

The Illusion of Media Kingmakers: Why Donald Trump Represents the American Voter, Not Celebrity Endorsers – A Personal Reflection on Fox News, Tucker Carlson, and the Essence of Representative Government

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

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

Michael Ryan Wins in the Primary for Butler County Commissioner: What a victory of 72% over 28% says about political reality

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

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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