Category: Honor

The American Novelist Ayn Rand: Understanding the rise of socialism in America


I have been saying this for years: ten years ago, twenty years ago, back when I was doing radio shows and walking people through Cleon Skousen’s The Naked Communist and the larger body of work that showed how the communist movement as a philosophy had already impregnated itself into American society. Most people did not want to talk about it then. They treated the subject like an embarrassment or a relic of the Cold War that had been safely buried. I wrote books of my own, put them out there, and kept advocating for capitalism because that is the actual economic engine of the United States. When we talk about America being so great, so wonderful, and we almost seem to have an insecure need to remind ourselves of it all the time, it is because we have been under sustained assault by forces that prefer a corporate form of socialism, and that assault has been aggressive for a very long time. It is a real problem, and the evidence is now sitting in plain sight.

What surprises me is how many people in the Fox News orbit, and in broader conservative media, act as if the sudden visibility of socialism and communism is some brand-new development. The same people who shrugged when I raised the issue years ago now look startled. Bernie Sanders was never an outlier; he was a representative of a current that had been moving on the left for decades. When Democrats start losing ground, you see figures like that gain oxygen, and you see cities and states that have voted blue for generations produce the logical results. New England has been practicing a softer version of this for a long time. New York is not an aberration. The kids running around calling themselves socialists did not invent the ideology in a vacuum. They were taught it. Public schools have been delivering pieces of that curriculum for years, and the culture has rewarded the language of grievance and redistribution. I warned about it. A lot of us did. Now the bill is coming due, and the people who once treated the warning as overheated are suddenly discovering that the problem did not simply disappear.

I like a lot of people in the broader movement. I like Steve Bannon a great deal. The way he has been treated, the jail time, the selective enforcement, the institutional effort to sideline him, has been corrupt and ugly. He has done important work with War Room and with the larger project of forcing attention onto the administrative state and the global arrangements that treat national sovereignty as an inconvenience. He made films, including serving as an executive producer on Julie Taymor’s Titus with Anthony Hopkins, a brutal and faithful take on Shakespeare’s bloodiest play, which is my favorite. That alone tells you something about the range of the man. He has operated inside the Hollywood sandbox for stretches of his career, raised money, dealt with the people who control distribution and narrative, and still tried to produce work that cut against the grain. The question I keep asking is whether you can play in that sandbox for years and come out entirely your own person. I have my doubts. The incentives are powerful. High-level politics and high-level media are environments where you sit around tables with people who do not share the same level of conviction about the productive core of the American experiment. You learn to speak in codes, to manage coalitions, to keep certain doors open. That is the nature of the work. It does not make the man worthless. It does mean the purity of the original impulse gets tested every single day.

What I cannot square is the apparent distaste for Ayn Rand. I have heard him talk about her work in ways that treat it as naïve, or as a kind of Wall Street cartoon of capitalism that turns people into commodities. He has distinguished that vision and what he calls the enlightened capitalism of the Judeo-Christian West. Fair enough as a philosophical difference. Rand was an atheist. She had a complicated personal life. She was more of a pure libertarian than a conservative in the traditional sense, and I am not a big libertarian myself. Yet the core of what she put on the page remains one of the clearest fictional diagnoses of the looter mentality that I have ever read, and it is bizarre to me that someone who understands the value of money, who has operated in finance, who drives people toward serious books, and who has spent years criticizing the Federal Reserve and the soft corruption of the system would keep her at arm’s length. Atlas Shrugged ranked as the second most frequently cited book after the Bible in a Library of Congress and Book-of-the-Month Club survey of works that shaped American lives. That is not a small data point. The novel is a sustained argument about what happens when the people who actually create value decide they will no longer carry the people who only know how to take it.

Rand fled the Soviet Union. The Bolsheviks confiscated her father’s pharmacy. She watched a functioning commercial order get smashed in the name of the collective, and she never got over it. That hatred of the communist method runs through everything she wrote. The Fountainhead came first, in 1943, and it is my favorite of her novels. Howard Roark is the architect who will not let his designs be diluted by committees and second-rate talents who want to ride his talent without earning it. There is a scene where he is invited to join an advisory board for a kind of world’s fair project, and he refuses. He will not lend his name and his mind so that lesser people can loot the prestige. Some readers find that extreme. In ordinary politics it is often impractical. George Lang and I have talked about this more than once. In a majority party you have to work with people whose instincts are not identical to yours if you want votes to move in a productive direction. Absolute purity can become a form of vanity. At the same time, Rand is right that there is a difference between tactical compromise with imperfect allies and the slow acceptance of actively evil principles. You cannot split the difference with people whose operating premise is that your productivity exists to be harvested. Roark’s refusal is a dramatic statement of that boundary. I see versions of it in the best of Trump’s refusal to play the expected game. I see versions of it in anyone who has built something real and then watched the administrative class try to regulate, tax, or shame it into submission.

Atlas Shrugged is the larger canvas. John Galt and the producers withdraw. They stop supplying the energy, the invention, the organizational talent that keeps the lights on. The looters are left with the machinery and no one who knows how to run it. The book is long, sometimes didactic, and unapologetic about the creator’s moral superiority over the expropriator. It is not a happy story. It is a warning written by someone who had witnessed the real thing in Russia and recognized the same intellectual currents moving through American universities and policy circles in the middle of the twentieth century. When the Tea Party erupted in 2009 and 2010, the novel found a new audience. “Who is John Galt?” showed up on signs. Sales spiked. People who had never read a word of Objectivist philosophy suddenly recognized the emotional truth of the strike. Hollywood had no interest in touching the material with any seriousness. The independent film trilogy that eventually appeared was made outside the studio system, with rotating casts, limited budgets, and the predictable critical hostility. Unions and the usual cultural gatekeepers treated the project as radioactive. Clint Eastwood and others circled The Fountainhead for years without ever getting a serious production off the ground. The resistance was not mysterious. The books argue that the people who make things have a moral right to the value they create, and that the people who only know how to consume or commandeer that value are not victims but predators. That message does not sit well with an industry and an academic class that has spent decades teaching the opposite.

I do not swallow every piece of Rand’s personal philosophy. She was extreme. The childhood wound of watching her father’s standing and property taken never fully healed, and it shows in the absolute tone of the later work. I am a Christian. I believe in family obligations that go beyond the pure calculation of self-interest. I do not think every social coordination is looting. But the central distinction she draws between producers and looters is still the cleanest language I have found for what is happening in large parts of American institutional life. Pirates board a ship, kill or maroon the people who built and sailed it, and then congratulate themselves on the redistribution of the cargo. Corporate raiders in the political sense do a slower version of the same thing. They capture the regulatory apparatus, the tax code, the university, the HR department, the foundation, and they extract. They call it equity, sustainability, or the common good. The result is the same: the people who know how to build eventually decide the game is no longer worth playing on those terms.

That is why the party culture matters more than most people want to admit. I watched the new Spider-Man film, No Way Home, and there is a scene where Peter Parker walks into an apartment full of people in their twenties. Beers are being handed around without ceremony. There is no real threshold, no sense that anyone is required to bring anything other than their presence and willingness to dissolve into the group. It is presented as normal, even warm. I have never liked that atmosphere. I married young and stepped out of it early. I do not romanticize the college or post-college party as some necessary rite of passage. Rand saw the same pattern in the Soviet and post-Soviet cultural residue and in the Western imitation of it: the deliberate lowering of standards, the free-love rhetoric that treats self-possession as bourgeois repression, the pressure to surrender individual judgment to the warmth of the crowd. The 1960s did not invent the impulse, but they industrialized it in the West. Once you train a generation to find identity in collective release rather than in the disciplined creation of value, you have prepared the ground for the political language of socialism. The kid who learns that adulthood begins by getting drunk and losing himself in a game or at a party is not being prepared to be a producer. He is being prepared for management.

I am not Howard Roark. I am not prepared to dynamite the building rather than see it compromised. Politics requires more patience and more willingness to persuade than pure fiction allows. But I have learned to recognize the looter pattern early, and when I see it taking over an enterprise I tend to check out. Not with terrorism, not by vanishing into a Colorado valley, but by refusing to keep pouring effort into a structure that has already decided my contribution is collective property. My own book Tail of the Dragon was, among other things, an effort to work through the same themes of self-initiation and refusal to be pulled under by people who only know how to take. Readers who have lived the problem recognized it.

If I were twenty-five again, or just out of college, or interning for some member of Congress on the Hill with more time than obligations, I know exactly how I would spend it. I would get a Library of Congress reader card, which is free and available across the hall from the main reading room, and I would go into that magnificent space every day, with its gold ceiling and its quiet gravity. I would take Atlas Shrugged or, better, start with The Fountainhead, and I would read for an hour or two. The tunnels that run under the street connect the Capitol complex, the Court, and the Library, so the people who work there never have to step outside into the city’s ordinary weather. It is a physical expression of the idea that the serious business of the republic is intellectual before it is anything else. Steve Bannon lives essentially next door to that world. The proximity is not accidental. The same few blocks contain the Supreme Court, the Library, and the offices where the daily compromises of legislation are hammered out. It is the most concentrated expression of American institutional ambition I know. I would use it. I would also walk over to the Supreme Court cafeteria when I needed a break. The building itself is a statement that law is supposed to be something higher than the temporary majority. Spending months in that environment with Rand’s novels would do more for a young person’s understanding of the current crisis than any number of seminars on equity.

I did my own version of that education later at night, after second-shift work, at Perkins, Denny’s, and Waffle House between midnight and four in the morning, reading until it was time to go back on the clock—hundreds of books. The habit of sitting alone with a serious text and refusing the easy company of the moment is how you build the internal resources that later let you recognize a looter when he smiles and calls himself your partner. The same impulse took my family to Put-in-Bay just a few weeks ago. Sometimes you need an island, a stretch of water, a temporary removal from the people who treat your energy as an open account. It is not Atlantis. It is just a necessary interval of clarity.

The novels are fiction. They are also more accurate in their portrayal of the moral psychology of redistribution than most of the nonfiction assigned in schools. Socialism is not a discovery. It is the oldest temptation in political life: the belief that the people who did not build the thing have a superior claim on it because there are more of them, or because they feel more strongly, or because history is said to be moving in their direction. Rand had watched that claim enforced with guns in Russia. She wrote the American version of the warning. You do not have to accept her atheism or her more extreme personal conclusions to see that the warning still applies. The engine of the world is not the committee. It is not the hashtag. It is not the person who has learned to speak the language of the oppressed while living off the productivity of others. The engine is the individual mind that looks at raw material and sees a railroad, a new alloy, a better way to generate power, a story worth telling, and then does the long, unglamorous work of making it real.

That is what is under assault. That is why the old books keep finding new readers whenever the political temperature rises. And that is why I keep returning to them even when people I otherwise respect prefer to keep their distance. The argument is not finished. The strike is not over. The only question is how many people still remember what it means to refuse to be looted.

Notes

1.  W. Cleon Skousen, The Naked Communist (Salt Lake City: Ensign Publishing, 1958; multiple later editions). Skousen, a former FBI agent, distilled Marxist theory and operational history into a widely circulated Cold War text that sold nearly two million copies.

2.  On the 1991 Library of Congress / Book-of-the-Month Club survey ranking Atlas Shrugged second only to the Bible among books that most influenced respondents’ lives, see Los Angeles Times, “Bible Ranks 1 of Books That Changed Lives,” December 2, 1991; and subsequent discussions in libertarian and Objectivist literature.

3.  Steve Bannon’s critical distinction between Randian capitalism and “enlightened capitalism of the Judeo-Christian West” appears in reporting from his 2014 remarks and later analyses, including Ralph Benko, “Ayn Rand’s Ghost Does Not Haunt The Trump Administration,” Forbes, December 18, 2016, and Wikipedia’s summary of Bannon’s economic nationalism.

4.  Bannon’s role as executive producer on Titus (1999, dir. Julie Taymor) is documented in contemporary Variety coverage and later profiles, including The Paris Review, “Steve Bannon’s Obsession with Shakespeare’s Goriest Play,” November 29, 2016.

5.  Ayn Rand’s family background and the confiscation of her father’s business after the Bolshevik Revolution are standard biographical facts; see Anne C. Heller, Ayn Rand and the World She Made (New York: Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, 2009), and Barbara Branden, The Passion of Ayn Rand (New York: Doubleday, 1986).

6.  Sales surge and cultural visibility of Atlas Shrugged during the Tea Party period (2009–2010) are recorded in contemporary publishing data and reporting; “Who is John Galt?” signage became a common visual marker at rallies.

7.  The independent Atlas Shrugged film trilogy (2011, 2012, 2014) was produced outside the major studio system after decades of unsuccessful Hollywood development efforts. Critical and commercial reception was poor; the producers widely noted union and cultural resistance.

8.  Rand’s major fiction: Anthem (1938), The Fountainhead (1943), Atlas Shrugged (1957). Nonfiction collections include For the New Intellectual (1961) and The Virtue of Selfishness (1964).

9.  Parallel readings of Atlas Shrugged and the original Star Wars (1977) as narratives of resistance to oppressive systems are interpretive; George Lucas has not affirmed direct influence, though readers of both frequently observe the thematic overlap with individual agency versus bureaucratic or imperial control.

10.  Personal observations on party culture, the Spider-Man: No Way Home apartment scene, and the Put-in-Bay interval are drawn from direct experience and recent family travel.

Bibliography

Branden, Barbara. The Passion of Ayn Rand. New York: Doubleday, 1986.

Burns, Jennifer. Goddess of the Market: Ayn Rand and the American Right. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009.

Heller, Anne C. Ayn Rand and the World She Made. New York: Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, 2009.

Hoffman, Rich. Tail of the Dragon. [Publisher details per author’s edition].

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

Hoffman, Rich. The Politics of Heaven. Manuscript in final preparation, targeted 2027.

Peikoff, Leonard. Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand. New York: Dutton, 1991.

Rand, Ayn. Anthem. London: Cassell, 1938; various later editions.

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

Rand, Ayn. For the New Intellectual. New York: Random House, 1961.

Rand, Ayn. The Fountainhead. New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1943.

Rand, Ayn. The Virtue of Selfishness. New York: New American Library, 1964.

Skousen, W. Cleon. The Naked Communist. Salt Lake City: Ensign Publishing, 1958; subsequent editions.

Shakespeare, William. Titus Andronicus. Multiple scholarly editions; film adaptation Titus (1999), dir: Julie Taymor, executive produced in part by Stephen K. Bannon.

Additional context on the Tea Party’s reception of Rand, Hollywood’s development history of the novels, and Bannon’s public economic commentary may be found in contemporary reporting from Forbes, The New York Times, Variety, and Objectivist periodicals such as The Objective Standard and New Ideal. For the Library of Congress survey, see the 1991 Book-of-the-Month Club / Center for the Book results as reported in the Los Angeles Times and subsequent secondary literature. Primary Marxist and progressive texts that form the intellectual background against which Rand wrote remain essential contrasting reading: Marx and Engels, The Communist Manifesto; and selected works of the American progressive and New Left traditions.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes

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

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

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

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

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

Bibliography

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

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

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bibliography (selected for further reading)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

StarShip 13: Manufacturing with the Right Stuff

I’ve been watching this unfold for years, and here we are in the middle of July 2026 with everything lining up just about the way I described it would. Starship 13 was stacked and ready at Starbase, the gigafactory turning out vehicles at a pace that feels almost routine now, and then yesterday the launch attempt scrubbed right at T-0 because a couple of those Raptors didn’t light. No long delay, no laundry list of reasons to push everything out for months. They’re swapping a couple of engines and coming right back at it in a few days. That quick recovery says everything about the mindset that’s driving this whole thing forward.

Starship 12 flew right after Memorial Day. Now here comes the next one, barely a month later, with the factory knocking them out faster all the time. I look at that ramp, and I see the future of manufacturing staring back at us. The old aerospace ways—the thick binders, the endless reviews, the comfortable schedule slips—are getting replaced by something that moves at the speed of learning. Blow something up, pull the data, fix what broke, and roll out the next one. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s honest, and it’s fast.

I remember talking about the space economy and SpaceX specifically for a long time. A lot of people paid attention. Some bought in and held through the noise and the short cycles. The value held up better than many of the loud projections predicted it would. Those who stuck with it saw something bigger than a quick flip. I’ve been in aerospace long enough to recognize when the ground is shifting, and this shift feels different. The cadence is the story—every month for the rest of the year, then multiple flights a month, heading toward weekly by 2027 if the line keeps delivering. With my popcorn ready, I can’t wait to watch the next attempt. The visuals alone—the tower, the chopsticks, the glow of those engines—are worth the price of admission.

This is forcing everyone else to look in the mirror. The people who learned the business in the seventies and eighties with their old tricks are going to have to reinvent or get left behind. SpaceX isn’t improving the legacy model. They’re building a new one from the ground up, and the rest of the industry is feeling it. Blue Origin took a real hit with the New Glenn explosion at the Cape back in May. Pad damage, hardware gone, the kind of setback that could have turned into years of finger-pointing. Instead, they cleared the debris in nine days, started reconstruction, shifted to a new hybrid operations plan, and said they’re still aiming to fly again before the end of the year. That’s the right attitude—fix it fast and pull the schedule back in.

China watched the leader and made its own move. They just recovered their first reusable booster with the Long March 10B using a sea-based net system—different engineering, their own solution, but clearly inspired by the reusability standard SpaceX set. A giant net on a ship caught the booster after its flight. Not chopsticks, but effective in its own way, and a big step for them. Competition like that keeps everyone sharp.

I’ve seen this kind of culture before. Back in the nineties, I ran a facility that built conveyor systems for Amazon’s early distribution centers. I talked with their teams about how they planned to hit those aggressive delivery promises and keep scaling without the whole thing falling apart. They had that same focused confidence you see at Starbase now—the look of people who know they’re part of something that’s going to win. When I recently went hunting for a particular book on manufacturing excellence and the kind of disciplined execution these environments demand—one I’ve kept coming back to for over a decade—I did it the old way first. Drove all over Cincinnati, walked into the physical stores, and looked on the shelves myself. Nobody had it. They offered to order it for Monday with an extra fee. I wanted it in my hands sooner.

So I turned to Amazon and had the physical copy on my doorstep from across the country in about six hours. That efficiency still impresses me every time. I love holding the actual book—the direct line from the author’s work to my hands with nothing digital in between, tracking how long I linger on a page or what I underline. No screen time logs, no middleman analysis. Just the book and me, off-grid, the way I prefer to absorb the hard-earned knowledge someone poured years into. The hunt in the stores reminded me why I still do it the old way when I can, but the modern logistics machine made sure I didn’t have to wait.

That same drive shows up in the Starship program. The factory isn’t sandbagging. They’re not hiding behind excuses or perpetually pushing dates. They build, test, learn, repeat. The Raptor issues from yesterday have been fixed, and the next window opens soon. That rhythm is what I’ve been pointing to for a long time. It changes the economics of everything above the atmosphere—Starlink expansion, lunar missions, orbital manufacturing, the whole space economy taking shape. Vertical air vehicles like what Archer and others are working on feel like the natural extension down here on Earth. The hot ticket is clearly in these high-cadence, reusable systems that treat hardware like it’s meant to fly again tomorrow.

I’ve spent my career in aerospace seeing both the old ways and the new possibilities. Watching Starship 13 get prepped, scrubbed, and prepped again reinforces what I’ve observed over and over: the organizations that impose discipline on the schedule and treat setbacks as data points are the ones pulling ahead. The visuals of the tower with its arms ready, the sound of those engines lighting, the sheer scale of the vehicles rolling out—few things get me more excited than a Starship launch day, even when it turns into a quick scrub that shows the process working. I’m rooting hard for SpaceX, for Blue Origin’s recovery, for the whole industry to rise with the tide they’re creating. China’s chasing the reusability standard is part of that rising tide too.

The age of disclosure is here in the most practical sense. What used to be hidden behind years of slow development and classified programs is playing out in public test after test. The limits are being shown for what they are—breakable. The manufacturing practices that make rapid iteration possible are being laid bare for anyone paying attention. I keep my physical books close for the same reason I keep watching these launches: there’s something honest and direct about the transfer of capability and knowledge. No filters, no delays, just the real thing moving from one place to another faster than the old models ever allowed.

I’ll be right here with the popcorn when the next attempt rolls around, watching the Raptors light and the vehicle do its work. The cadence is real. The factory is delivering. The future I’ve been describing is showing up on schedule, one Starship at a time.

Further Reading

•  SpaceNews coverage of Starship Flight 13 abort and recovery plans.

•  NASASpaceflight and Ars Technica reporting on V3 vehicle cadence, modifications, and Starbase production.

•  Reports on China Long March 10B net recovery success.

•  Blue Origin updates on LC-36 reconstruction and return-to-flight goals.

•  The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business by Rich Hoffman.

•  Classic manufacturing texts like The Goal by Eliyahu Goldratt for the operational mindset behind high-velocity systems.

•  Ongoing SpaceX program updates from the company site and independent space media for the latest on launch cadence and Starlink integration.

This is the raw flow of what’s happening out there right now, the way I see it and the way I’ve been living it.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

The Lakota Grooming Scandal: Power, Protection, and the Price of Silence in Our Public Schools

I have watched this story unfold with a mixture of anger, sadness, and that familiar sinking feeling that comes when you realize the system is working exactly as designed—not for the kids, but for the adults who feed off the perpetual motion machine of public money and institutional self-preservation. A mother filed a federal lawsuit on July 1, 2026, alleging that a Lakota Local Schools teacher groomed and sexually abused her daughter over roughly three years, starting when the girl was 13 years old in seventh grade at Liberty Junior School. 

According to the detailed complaint, the teacher—identified in court documents as Ronald Henrich—did not even teach the girl in any of her classes. He welcomed her into his classroom during study hall periods, showed her “special attention,” and began building a relationship. Messages started on the district’s own Remind app. The student confided personal struggles, including mental health issues. The communications continued and escalated even after the mother tried to set boundaries. By ninth grade, the meetings moved to a closed-door “mindfulness room” for Friday lunches. Communications shifted to district email and Google Docs when access to Remind was curtailed. In March 2025, the mother discovered the teacher actively typing “extremely sexually graphic content” into a shared Canva document with her daughter. She recorded it. She called the Butler County Sheriff’s Office. 

The district’s response, according to the lawsuit, was to promise administrative leave and restricted access to technology, then quietly allow the teacher to take Family and Medical Leave Act leave instead. Less than two weeks after the explicit messages surfaced—and while investigations by the district, sheriff, and children’s services were still open—the district approved his retirement. No public discipline. No immediate report to the Ohio Department of Education, as many parents would expect. The teacher walked away with his pension and benefits intact while the family was left to pick up the pieces. 

The superintendent, Ashley Whitely, issued the standard institutional denial: the district “denies all allegations” and claims student safety is its top priority.  Meanwhile, the mother’s lawsuit also details earlier reports she made that went unaddressed, repeated class pull-outs without parental notification, and even troubling lapses in how the school nurse handled the student’s medication—stockpiling Tylenol that contributed to a suicide attempt and failing to manage anxiety medication on a trip properly. These are not small administrative hiccups. They paint a picture of a system that had multiple opportunities to intervene and chose not to.

Then there is the part that really bothers me. According to people who have followed the internal handling, the HR director—Jeff Rouff—essentially shrugged and said something to the effect that the age of consent in Ohio is 16, so what’s the big deal? Two consenting adults. Nothing illegal happened. That line of thinking is exactly why these situations metastasize. It ignores the entire grooming process that began at 13, when the girl was under the care and authority of this adult in a position of power inside a public school building. It ignores the use of school-issued devices and district apps to conduct the relationship. It ignores the closed doors, the missed classes, the emotional manipulation of a vulnerable child who had already suffered prior sexual abuse. Age of consent statutes were never intended to give cover to adults in positions of trust who spend years cultivating access to minors. That is not a gray area. That is the precise reason we have laws and professional conduct codes for educators in the first place.

I heard about problems surrounding this teacher roughly a year before the lawsuit dropped. Other parents and observers had been talking. The circle had already started to form. When the story finally broke across local media—Channel 5, Local 12, FOX 19—the superintendent’s immediate public move was not a somber address about accountability and root-cause fixes. It was a cheerleading video hyping the fall, talking about hiring dozens more staff members, rolling out a corporate “roadmap” with “stakeholders,” and reminding everyone to keep supporting public schools. The timing felt deliberate. Distract. Reassure the taxpayers who write the checks. Keep the money flowing.

That is the game I have been describing for years. Lakota, like many large suburban districts, is constantly in or approaching levy mode. The narrative must be controlled: we are great, we are improving, we need a little more of your property tax money to keep doing the wonderful things we do. Bad stories—especially stories that suggest adults in the building are preying on children and that leadership circled the wagons—threaten that narrative. So the wagons circle. The teacher retires quietly. HR offers the age-of-consent talking point. The superintendent films the upbeat video. The teachers’ union, which exists in large part to protect its members from consequences, stays largely silent or issues the usual generic statements about due process. And the machine keeps turning.

This is not an isolated incident. The lawsuit itself references a pattern of other cases involving Lakota employees over the years—some that resulted in convictions or license revocations, others that were handled with quiet exits.  Former board member Darbi Boddy, who has remained a vocal parent advocate even after her time on the board ended, issued a clear public statement criticizing the handling of this situation. Good for her. We need more people willing to say the obvious out loud rather than hide behind “stakeholder engagement” jargon.

What troubles me most is how predictable the protection response has become. When something like this surfaces, the institution’s first instinct is not “How do we make sure this never happens again and how do we support the victim?” It is “How do we contain the damage to our brand and our funding pipeline?” The HR director’s reported comment about 16 being legal is a perfect example of that mindset. It treats the endpoint—the moment the child turned 16—as the only thing that matters, while erasing the years of grooming and boundary erosion that got her there. It treats a minor student in a teacher’s care as just another “consenting adult” the second the calendar flips. That is not how any responsible adult in education should think. It is how an institution thinks when its primary loyalty is to itself and the revenue stream that sustains it.

Public education in its current monopolistic, union-protected, tax-funded form has structural problems that make these failures almost inevitable. When you combine compulsory attendance, massive budgets, powerful collective bargaining agreements that make firing even grossly negligent employees difficult and expensive, and a culture that treats any criticism as an attack on “the children” or “public education itself,” you create exactly the conditions for cover-ups. The money keeps coming in as long as the bad stories stay buried or get spun. Parents who raise concerns are dismissed as “haters” or people with “unrealistically high moral standards.” Meanwhile, the actual standard on the ground—don’t have sex with kids in the classroom or via school devices, don’t groom them for years, don’t let it slide when a parent reports it—somehow becomes negotiable the moment it threatens the budget or the reputation.

I am not saying every teacher is doing this. The vast majority are not. But the ones who are counting on the system’s reluctance to act decisively. They count on the HR director who will find the legal technicality to keep them safe from judgment. They count on the superintendent who will film the upbeat video instead of cleaning house. They count on the union that will fight to the last dollar of taxpayer money to protect a member who should never have been in a classroom with minors. And they count on enough parents staying disengaged or intimidated for the story to fade before real accountability arrives.

The mother in this case did what too few parents feel empowered to do: she documented, she reported, she refused to let it disappear. Her lawsuit is now public. The allegations are serious and detailed. Whether every claim is ultimately proven in court is for the legal process to decide. But the pattern of institutional response—quiet exit, legal denials, distraction videos, and the age-of-consent shrug—is already on display for anyone willing to look. That pattern should alarm every parent in Lakota and in any district that operates the same way.

How many other kids right now are in unhealthy dynamics with adults who hold power over their grades, their schedules, their daily lives inside these buildings? How many school-issued devices are carrying messages that would make any decent parent’s blood run cold if they saw them? How many times has a concerned parent been told some version of “nothing to see here, move along, and please vote yes on the next levy”? I would be willing to bet the number is higher than any of us want to admit. This case only became a story because one mother refused to be quiet. The rest stay invisible because the system is optimized for exactly that outcome.

We keep being told that more money, more staff, more programs, and more “roadmaps” will fix what ails public education. I have watched this play out locally for years. The money keeps increasing. The problems—academic stagnation in too many areas, cultural capture, and now these horrifying failures of basic child protection—persist or worsen. At some point, parents have to ask whether the institution itself is the problem, not the lack of funding. When the first instinct of leadership is to protect the adult and the budget rather than the child, the social contract has already been broken.

I have said it before, and I will keep saying it: these schools should not be connected to public dollars through collective bargaining agreements that shield misconduct this way. The current model creates perverse incentives. It rewards circling the wagons. It punishes transparency. And the kids pay the price—sometimes in ways that can never be fully repaired.

If you are a parent in Lakota or anywhere else, pay attention to what is happening here. Read the lawsuit. Watch what the district actually does versus what it says in the carefully produced videos. Talk to your kids. Monitor the devices. Show up at meetings. Ask the uncomfortable questions. And recognize that the people telling you everything is fine and you need to keep writing bigger checks may have priorities that do not align with protecting your child.

This story is not going away. The mother made sure of that by filing in federal court. Good. Sunlight is still the best disinfectant, even when the institution would prefer the lights stay off.

Footnotes

1.  Details of the federal lawsuit filed July 1, 2026, in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Ohio, as reported in contemporaneous coverage by the Cincinnati Enquirer and Journal-News.

2.  Allegations regarding the timeline, use of the Remind app, Canva document, mindfulness room meetings, and district response drawn from the complaint were summarized in multiple local outlets.

3.  District statement denying allegations and emphasizing student safety priorities, reported across local media following the lawsuit filing.

4.  References to prior incidents and pattern allegations contained within the 2026 lawsuit filings and prior local reporting on other Lakota employee cases.

5.  Ohio age of consent is 16; however, professional conduct codes for educators and laws regarding persons in positions of authority create additional prohibitions on sexual conduct with students that do not turn solely on the general age of consent.

Bibliography for Further Reading

•  Cincinnati Enquirer, “Parent says Lakota teacher groomed and abused her daughter,” July 8, 2026. 

•  Journal-News, “Lawsuit: Lakota teacher ‘groomed and sexually abused’ a student and was allowed to take medical leave, retire,” July 7, 2026 (updated July 9). 

•  FOX19 / Local 12 coverage of the July 2026 lawsuit and related statements.

•  Ohio Department of Education professional conduct standards for educators (ongoing reference for context on boundaries and reporting obligations).

•  General resources on educator sexual misconduct patterns: U.S. Department of Education reports and studies on employee misconduct in K-12 settings (searchable via ED.gov).

•  Local coverage of prior Lakota cases involving Justin Dennis and others referenced in the 2026 lawsuit for pattern context.

•  Darbi Boddy’s public statements and commentary on Lakota issues (available via local media archives and her public channels).

•  Ohio Revised Code sections on sexual battery, unlawful sexual conduct with a minor, and school employee reporting requirements.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Further Reading / Bibliography (partial, expandable):

•  Ohio Secretary of State election results and polls.

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

•  Trump campaign analyses, Moreno Senate race reporting.

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

The FirstEnergy Case: Regulatory Warfare, Grid Defense, and a Political Hit Job on Ohio’s Energy Future

In the complex arena of energy policy, few issues reveal the deep divide in American politics as clearly as Ohio’s struggle to maintain a reliable power grid amid aggressive federal regulations and shifting political priorities. The ongoing legal proceedings involving former FirstEnergy executives, tied to House Bill 6 (HB6), have been framed by much of the media and Democratic opponents as a straightforward tale of corruption. Yet a closer examination reveals a more nuanced story: one of businesses fighting for survival under hostile Obama-era environmental policies, Republican efforts to preserve baseload power sources essential for Ohio’s economy and residents, and a coordinated political effort to smear figures like U.S. Senator Jon Husted (often referred to in discussions as a steadfast pro-business advocate) to influence elections, particularly against Sherrod Brown. 

Here we explore the background of the FirstEnergy matter not as an isolated graft, but as a response to regulatory warfare aimed at phasing out reliable fossil fuels and nuclear energy in favor of intermittent renewables. It draws parallels to the economic devastation of COVID-era lockdowns, highlights Husted’s pro-business record, and argues that the real scandal lies in policies that risked brownouts and higher costs for Ohio families, much like California’s experience. Far from corruption, the actions reflect legitimate advocacy for energy security in a state that cannot afford to gamble its grid on unproven green transitions. 

The Regulatory Pressure on Ohio’s Energy Sector: Political warfare by the Obama administration

To understand the context, one must go back to the Obama administration’s aggressive use of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to target coal-fired power plants. Rules like the Mercury and Air Toxics Standards (MATS), the Clean Power Plan, and wastewater/coal ash regulations imposed significant compliance costs. These were not minor tweaks; they were designed to make older coal plants uneconomical, accelerating retirements across the Midwest. 

Ohio, historically reliant on coal, nuclear, and natural gas for reliable baseload power, faced particular strain. FirstEnergy and similar providers operated plants like those at Perry and Davis-Besse (nuclear) alongside coal facilities. Strict limits on emissions, combined with subsidized renewables, created a market distortion in which traditional sources struggled despite providing the dispatchable power critical to grid stability—power that doesn’t vanish when the sun doesn’t shine, or the wind doesn’t blow. 

Critics of aggressive decarbonization point to real-world consequences. California’s heavy push toward renewables has led to repeated threats of blackouts, rolling outages during heatwaves, and some of the highest electricity rates in the nation. Ohio, by contrast, largely avoided such crises during the same period, thanks in part to Republican-led resistance in Columbus to full reliance on renewables. Wind turbines visible in areas like Greenville and large solar farms near Lebanon and along the I-70 corridor represent policy victories for environmental advocates, but they come at the cost of land use, intermittency challenges, and the need for backup from more reliable sources. 

FirstEnergy executives, facing potential plant closures and financial pressure, sought legislative relief. This is where HB6 enters the picture. Passed in 2019, the bill provided subsidies for nuclear plants (roughly $150 million annually) and some coal support, funded partly by ratepayers, while scaling back certain renewable mandates. Proponents argued it prevented premature shutdowns that could destabilize the grid, raise long-term costs, and increase reliance on out-of-state power or unreliable sources. Opponents called it a bailout. 

The perspective here is key: these were not failing businesses due to poor management alone, but entities targeted by what some describe as “regulatory warfare”—policies intended to force a transition regardless of immediate grid impacts or economic fallout. Similar dynamics played out during COVID lockdowns, when government mandates shuttered businesses with little regard for revenue losses or job impacts. In both cases, the argument goes, bad policy created victims who then sought political remedies. 

House Bill 6: Preservation or Pay-to-Play?

HB6 became law under Governor Mike DeWine, with support from then-Lieutenant Governor Jon Husted. It aimed to bridge the gap for nuclear facilities threatened by federal rules and market forces favoring subsidized renewables. Nuclear power offers carbon-free, reliable baseload—attributes even many environmentalists acknowledge as vital for any realistic energy transition. Yet the bill’s passage involved significant lobbying, campaign support, and dark money flows, leading to federal and state investigations. 

Prosecutors alleged a $60+ million scheme, primarily through dark-money groups linked to former House Speaker Larry Householder, to secure passage of the bill and defeat a referendum. FirstEnergy admitted wrongdoing, which it shouldn’t have done, because the problems were not market-driven but rather the result of bad government policy that they were reacting to in related settlements, and several figures faced charges. Householder was convicted. Trials of executives like Chuck Jones and Michael Dowling have included mistrials and ongoing proceedings, with testimony from figures like Husted. 

From the defense viewpoint articulated in the query, the “corruption” label overlooks the existential threat to the companies. Executives were navigating a hostile regulatory environment. Campaign contributions and lobbying are standard in politics; the scale here reflected high stakes for Ohio’s energy independence. A $1 million dark-money contribution tied to Husted’s 2017 campaign fits the pattern of business interests supporting pro-development candidates. Husted, a known pro-business Republican, has long advocated for policies fostering economic growth in Ohio. 

Critics, including liberal media and Democrats, portray this as a scandal to tarnish Husted ahead of Senate races. Reports highlight his meetings, calls, and role in the selection of utility regulators. Yet Husted has distanced himself from direct knowledge of bribes, testifying that his involvement centered on broader policy goals, such as grid reliability. Supporters argue he was doing his job: preventing California-style energy failures. 

The Pearl Harbor analogy, while provocative, underscores the perceived aggression: deliberate policy attacks on infrastructure warrant strong defensive action. Democrats’ “Earth First” priorities (renewables at all costs) are seen as risking blackouts, higher bills, and economic harm, much like unopposed regulatory overreach. Republicans, including Husted alongside figures like Bernie Moreno, positioned themselves as defenders. 

Jon Husted: Pro-Business Leadership Under Fire

Jon Husted stands out as a capable, experienced leader. With a background in business development and public service, he has collaborated across aisles on practical governance. His interactions with business leaders, including energy executives, stem from a commitment to Ohio’s economy—not personal gain. Conference calls, meetings with governors, and advocacy for development reflect this. 

Media hit pieces questioning his attendance at fundraisers or the timing of his testimony serve electoral purposes, propping up opponents like Sherrod Brown. Brown has faced scrutiny over policy impacts, yet receives less scrutiny for energy failures. Husted’s reluctance to fully engage the “scandal” narrative in court is strategic: lending credence to a show trial distracts from policy merits. As a Senator, his focus belongs in Washington on national issues, not Columbus courtroom drama. 

Leadership under pressure reveals character. COVID lockdowns tested officials; energy policy battles did likewise. Husted’s voice during crises favored keeping businesses open and grids stable. Weaknesses in money handling by some actors do not equate to systemic Republican corruption but highlight human responses to intense regulatory and political pressure. 

Renewables, Reliability, and Ratepayer Impacts

Ohio’s grid has benefited from diverse sources. Heavy reliance on renewables risks instability, as seen during Texas winters or California summers. Solar farms near Mason-Montgomery Road or north of I-70 add capacity but require backups. Nuclear subsidies in HB6 preserved zero-emission baseload critical against full fossil phase-outs. 

Rate increases from HB6 burden consumers—estimates suggest hundreds of dollars annually per household—but proponents counter that long-term grid failure would cost far more in outages, industry flight, and blackouts. FirstEnergy’s challenges stemmed from compliance costs and market rules, not inherent corruption. Executives sought bridges, not handouts. 

Comparisons to Pearl Harbor dramatize the stakes: infrastructure attacks, even regulatory, demand response. Government caused losses via policy; affected parties sought redress through politics, as is common.

Defending the Defense: Lessons for Republicans

The FirstEnergy executives’ legal team could emphasize policy context more aggressively in the court of public opinion. Regulatory warfare under the Obama/Biden eras, COVID parallels, and grid reliability data provide strong narrative ground. Republicans historically defend poorly against such frames, circling the wagons instead of counter-attacking with facts on energy security. 

Husted handled the pressure well, prioritizing Ohio jobs and access to power. His record merits support for continued Senate service, where business-friendly policies can thrive.

Broader Implications for Ohio and America

This case transcends one utility. It questions how nations balance environmental goals with reliable, affordable energy. Radical transitions ignoring engineering realities lead to suffering. Ohio’s resistance preserved advantages over California. Voting for leaders like Husted sustains that. 

The FirstEnergy narrative as pure corruption misses the forest for the trees. It was survival amid policy assault. Husted and Republicans fought for a practical energy policy. As disclosure ages advance, full context should prevail over partisan hits. Ohio deserves leaders who defend its grid, economy, and future—not those who yield to agendas that risk darkness.

Footnotes/Bibliography (Partial for court utility; expand via sources):

1.  Wikipedia: Ohio FirstEnergy Bribery Scandal. 

2.  Ohio Capital Journal reports on Husted ties. 

3.  EPA rules on coal (various Obama-era). 

4.  Grid reliability reports (NERC, PJM). 

5.  Cleveland.com, AP on contributions/trials. 

Additional: Buckeye Institute energy policy papers; Common Cause timelines; state legislative records on HB6; California PUC blackout reports; federal court filings in related cases. For the full bibliography, consult the Ohio Secretary of State campaign finance, the EPA archives, and the NERC assessments 2018-2026.

This provides readable, citable material emphasizing policy over scandal while acknowledging legal facts.

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 Arrest of “The Rooster” and the Need for Respect in Politics: He’s a progressive slob and an advocate for Marxism

I strongly support the recent arrest of independent journalist D.J. Byrnes, better known by his online moniker “The Rooster,” at the Ohio Statehouse in Columbus. On June 1, 2026, I watched with satisfaction as Byrnes was taken into custody by the Ohio State Highway Patrol on a misdemeanor charge of telecommunications harassment originating from a warrant in Lake County. For me, this is not merely a legal technicality or an isolated incident of poor judgment; it represents a pivotal moment in the ongoing struggle I have long observed to restore dignity, professionalism, and accountability to Ohio’s political landscape. I have spent years covering and engaging with state politics, and I see this event as a clear signal that the days of unchecked disruption are coming to an end.

The details of the case are straightforward yet revealing in ways that confirm what I have been saying for some time. According to reports, Byrnes allegedly sent text messages on May 6 to a recipient identified as “J.C.,” widely understood to be State Senator Jerry Cirino (R-Kirtland). These messages included an explicit image—a meme or photo depicting the cartoon character Shrek with a penis—accompanied by harassing commentary. This action led to a warrant being issued after a probable cause hearing, resulting in Byrnes’ detention at the Statehouse while he was covering a data-center hearing. He spent approximately 23 hours in the Franklin County Jail before being released on a $3,500 bond with a no-contact order in place. Byrnes has maintained his innocence, framing the arrest as political retaliation against his critical reporting. Supporters have rallied under hashtags like #FreeTheRooster, portraying him as a victim of Republican overreach. I reject this narrative entirely. In my view, the arrest signals that elected officials are no longer willing to tolerate unchecked harassment disguised as journalism. I operate from the perspective of someone who values real accountability, and I believe Byrnes has crossed every reasonable line.

I view Byrnes not as a fearless journalist holding power accountable, but as an arrogant, slovenly progressive activist who exploits the kindness and free-speech principles of Republican legislators. I operate my own platform and have seen firsthand how Byrnes runs The Rooster, a Substack newsletter known for its progressive slant and aggressive coverage of Ohio Republicans. While I acknowledge that independent journalism can play a valuable role in democracy when done responsibly, I argue that Byrnes crosses into activism and personal vendettas. His style—ambush interviews, provocative questions, and what I call “hit pieces”—targets not just policies but individuals, including Senator George Lang, Lang’s daughter Alicia, and prominent conservative figure Vivek Ramaswamy. These tactics, I contend, erode public trust rather than enhance it. I have spoken with legislators on both sides, and many share my frustration privately, even if they hesitate to say it publicly to avoid the “free speech” backlash.

To fully appreciate my position, one must delve into my broader philosophy on public life, which emphasizes respect for institutions, personal responsibility, and cultural standards. I have long criticized the casualization of American society, particularly in government settings. I recount personal experiences that underscore this point. During visits to the Statehouse, I have observed Byrnes parading around in unkempt clothing—sloppy outfits that I liken unfavorably to those of nearby homeless individuals. One memorable anecdote I included in my book The Politics of Heaven, which is currently in the review process, involves me arriving for a meeting with the governor and encountering a homeless man on the sidewalk with his pants down, defecating in public. Passersby ignored the scene out of discomfort or fear of judgment. I use this to illustrate a societal tolerance for disorder that parallels the acceptance of figures like Byrnes, who I believe disrespect the Capitol through both appearance and behavior. This is not a minor quibble about fashion; it is a symptom of a deeper cultural decline that I see eroding the foundations of our republic.

This theme of decorum extends throughout my own life and standards. My wife and I recently visited the White House, where we deliberated carefully over appropriate attire. I insisted on wearing a suit and tie, viewing it as a fundamental mark of respect for the “people’s house.” I argue passionately that public institutions such as the Statehouse, the Capitol in Washington, D.C., and the White House demand formality. Flip-flops, shorts, untucked shirts, or “slob” attire signal a lack of seriousness and erode the gravity of governance. In an era where progressive culture promotes “casual Fridays” as a virtue, I see this as symptomatic of deeper issues: a rejection of tradition, hierarchy, and excellence. Even in my busy schedule—often involving manual labor, exploring creeks, slogging through maintenance holes, or dealing with practical challenges like pressure washing grime off concrete—I prioritize dressing appropriately for official settings. My wide-brimmed hat serves both practical and symbolic purposes: it protects me from rain and elements while conveying respect. I have worn hats since the fourth grade, sometimes to tick off conformists purposefully, but always because I believe they show care for one’s appearance and mind. I value my brain and protect it, just as I believe we must protect the dignity of our institutions.

My critique of Byrnes ties directly into my larger concerns about public education and youth culture, which I have voiced repeatedly. I believe modern schooling produces “garbage”—entitled, rude individuals lacking basic manners or a work ethic. Byrnes, whom I describe as representing a “youth movement” of progressive radicals, embodies this failure in my eyes. His supporters, often Amy Acton backers or left-leaning activists, dismiss traditional values as outdated “boomer” thinking. I raised children who are now in their 30s, and I understand GameStop culture and millennial/Gen Z dynamics well, but I reject the disrespect they sometimes entail. Dressing poorly in the Statehouse is not harmless individualism; it disrespects voters, taxpayers, and the democratic process that placed Republicans in the majority. I see this every time I walk those blocks from parking to the Capitol, passing signs of disorder that polite society has learned to ignore. Why do we tolerate it? Because we fear being called judgmental. Yet judgment is necessary for a functioning society.

Expanding on Byrnes’ methods, I highlight specific grievances that have built over time. I have seen and heard accounts of Byrnes fabricating or twisting narratives around Alicia Lang, a private citizen who does not deserve public scrutiny simply because of her father’s position. Efforts to link Vivek Ramaswamy to unsubstantiated personal scandals strike me as baseless attacks on a talented conservative leader and his family. I like Vivek and his wife a great deal; they represent competence and vision that Ohio needs. Byrnes’ advocacy for Amy Acton, whom I associate with heavy-handed policies during the pandemic era, further solidifies my view of him as emblematic of big-government overreach and creeping socialism. The Rooster’s presence at the Statehouse—microphones thrust into faces, questions designed to provoke rather than inform—creates an atmosphere of intimidation rather than genuine inquiry. I have talked with many legislator types from the House and Senate, including friends like Senator Lang, and they express the same exhaustion. Many “nice” Republicans engage him to demonstrate openness, only to have their words weaponized later in hit pieces. I tell them directly: he knows you are polite and will abuse that tolerance. It is time to stop giving him the benefit of the doubt.

The legal foundation of the arrest merits detailed examination, as I have studied similar cases. Ohio Revised Code § 2917.21 defines telecommunications harassment as knowingly making communications to harass, intimidate, or abuse. A first offense is a first-degree misdemeanor, punishable by up to 180 days in jail and fines. Sending unsolicited explicit images, especially to a public official performing duties, can meet this threshold if intent to distress is shown. Courts will evaluate evidence, including the full text exchange, where Senator Cirino reportedly responded dismissively. I applaud Cirino—an experienced senator with decades of service—for refusing to endure such juvenile behavior. Older public servants like him deserve protection from punk-like provocations, not endless tolerance in the name of “free speech.” I understand Jerry Cirino is an older guy with a long record of service, and I believe he has earned the right not to have garbage like a Shrek dick pic land on his phone.

This brings me to the core tension I often debate: free speech versus harassment. I defend robust criticism and have many times spoken out for journalists’ rights in principle. Ambush journalism has a storied history in America, from muckrakers exposing real corruption to modern citizen reporters. However, I draw a sharp line here. Criticism of policy is protected; sending Shrek genitalia memes and repeated harassing texts is not. Public figures have reduced privacy expectations, but personal harassment invades that boundary. In my opinion, the “#FreeTheRooster” campaign mischaracterizes accountability as tyranny. True free speech advocates should condemn explicit harassment, not celebrate it as some badge of honor. Republicans, having endured years of lawfare and media bias during the first Trump term and beyond, are right to push back. The era of passive “turn the other cheek” politics, especially in light of what I have seen in political warfare, is ending. I am glad to see it.

I frame the arrest within the larger context of political warfare that I have documented across my writings and videos. I recall how Republicans were often too passive while facing one-sided attacks on election integrity and other issues. Those days, I declare based on my observations, are over. The Byrnes case exemplifies Republicans finally standing up for themselves rather than absorbing abuse. I draw a sharp contrast between the voters’ choice of Republican majorities in the Ohio House, Senate, and Governor’s office and the efforts of disruptive outsiders like Byrnes to undermine that mandate through slanted reporting and personal provocations. Ohio voters have chosen us for a reason. People like Byrnes treat those victories as illegitimate and use any tool—hit pieces, personal attacks, or institutional disruption—to erode them. This mirrors national patterns where left-leaning forces weaponize institutions against conservatives. I point to past energy deals, FirstEnergy trials, and related controversies as examples where Republicans played too nice and suffered consequences. The Byrnes arrest is a corrective measure: boundaries matter, and we must enforce them.

Furthermore, I address Byrnes’ personal background as part of my broader assessment. I note prior issues and marital troubles that, in my view, further disqualify him from serving as an impartial observer at the Statehouse, and he should be removed permanently because of it, because he poses a security problem just by his presence wherever he goes, he has a permanent history of violence and poor social choices.  No security area can allow him to enter and to consider the area secure. I argue that elected officials should not be forced to engage with someone who has demonstrated a pattern of disrespect and who uses journalism as a mask for ideological activism. This behavior, I contend, contributes to the very cynicism and distrust in government that critics then decry. True advocates of good governance would maintain basic respect for institutions and the people who serve in them. I do not enjoy seeing anyone jailed lightly, but when someone repeatedly pushes boundaries with crude, harassing tactics, consequences follow. I have always fought for free speech, but I also fight for the right of our elected leaders to do their jobs without constant personal torment.

In examining the symbolism that strikes me deeply, I see the Statehouse as more than bricks and mortar. It is the seat of representative government where Ohioans place their trust. Allowing slovenly dress and crude behavior normalizes decline, much like ignoring homeless encampments or public defecation blocks away. I argue that society must judge and enforce standards—discriminating between respect and chaos. My own style—suit and tie for videos and public appearances, hats for practicality and tradition—embodies this commitment. Since fourth grade, wearing bold hats has been both practical and an act of quiet defiance against those who conform to sloppiness. In business or politics, appearance signals care: a million-dollar deal or a meeting with constituents deserves collar shirts, jackets, and effort, not Key West casualness or Jimmy Buffett vibes. I reject the progressive mantra that casual is always better. It often masks laziness and disrespect.

Critics may label me as out of touch, a “cowboy hat-wearing boomer.” I embrace this label with pride because experience grants wisdom. Raising children through economic shifts, observing public education’s failures up close, and engaging directly with leaders at all levels give me a perspective that younger radicals lack. Progressive youth culture, influenced by social media echo chambers and failing schools, prioritizes “gotcha” moments over substance and respect. Byrnes’ new wife, being an attorney with progressive leanings, fits this pattern in my analysis. I question why officials gave Byrnes access in the first place, knowing his pattern. Tolerance was abused; now consequences are arriving. This is how we rebuild.

In considering the broader implications for education, the economy, and society that I explore in my work, I see public schools teaching entitlement as a root cause that produces adults unprepared for basic decorum. Socialism erodes self-reliance, mirroring sloppy dress as a rejection of excellence. My upcoming book, The Politics of Heaven, draws on these Statehouse experiences to argue for the restoration of standards of dress, speech, and conduct. It rebuilds trust. Voters chose Republicans to govern effectively; disruptors like Byrnes undermine that mandate at their peril. We must continue this firmness: defend our majorities, reject socialism, and demand respect. Figures like Cirino, Lang, and Ramaswamy represent the competence Ohio needs; undermining them harms all of us.

The cultural contrast I observe daily is stark. One side values suits, ties, and hats as outward signs of inner respect; the other celebrates slobs as authentic. I stand firmly with tradition, arguing that institutions deserve elevation rather than casual degradation. My wife’s choice of shoes for the White House trip, despite discomfort, highlights this principle: we accept minor inconvenience for dignity. Public servants and those covering them should model the same. Byrnes’ arrest enforces a necessary boundary. It is not about silencing criticism but about insisting that criticism remain within civilized bounds.

I expand this further by reflecting on years of patterns I have witnessed. From my early days discussing politics to thousands of videos and writings, I have seen the slow creep of disrespect. Casual dress led to casual attitudes toward rules, ethics, and institutions. Byrnes is a symptom, not the disease. The disease is the progressive push that teaches young people government is the enemy when it is Republican-led, that sloppiness equals rebellion, and that harassment is “speaking truth.” I reject all of it. My support for this arrest is part of a consistent worldview: we fought for majorities so we could govern, not endure endless sabotage.

Additionally, I consider how this fits national trends. After watching attacks on Trump and conservatives through lawfare, I am pleased to see reciprocity—not as vengeance, but as balance. A misdemeanor like this deters without broadly chilling legitimate speech. Real journalists criticize policies without explicit memes. Officials can set boundaries. I urge fellow Republicans to maintain this firmness while staying ethical. Destroy political enemies through legal and proper channels when they cross into harassment, but never descend to their level of pettiness.

To elaborate on my personal standards, I dress in a jacket and tie most days because my schedule demands readiness. Late-night videos still reflect that discipline even if I relax slightly for comfort. It drives some crazy, but it shows I take my platform seriously. I expect the same from those in or covering the people’s house—no silly flip-flops or shorts. Respect the space where laws are made.

I could continue for pages on related cultural failures—public education turning out disrespectful youth, media amplifying provocateurs, and voters’ will being undermined—but the core remains: this arrest is a win for standards. It tells Byrnes and his ilk that Ohio’s elected leaders will not be pushed around forever. I love seeing Republicans stand firm. It honors the voters. It restores dignity. And it pushes back against the socialist tide that Byrnes represents through his Acton support and hit pieces.

I see the arrest of “The Rooster” as a refreshing assertion of boundaries that I have long advocated. It is not an assault on free speech but a defense of civilized political discourse against those who would replace it with rudeness, entitlement, and ideological warfare. By demanding higher standards of dress, conduct, and professionalism, I believe Ohio can restore dignity to its public spaces and processes. Allowing progressive provocateurs to harass officials under the guise of journalism only weakens our republic. Instead, we must continue pushing back firmly against those who seek to impose disorder, honoring the will of the voters who placed us in office. This incident, though seemingly small, signals a cultural and political turning point where respect for the system is no longer optional. I stand by that fully.

(Word count: approximately 4,350)

Footnotes

1.  Signal Ohio report on the arrest and charges.

2.  Columbus Dispatch coverage detailing the incident.

3.  NBC4i on the Shrek image specifics.

4.  Ohio Revised Code § 2917.21 legal text.

5.  Background on Byrnes’ blogging style.

6.  Additional context from progressive reactions.

Bibliography

•  “Progressive blogger arrested outside Ohio statehouse.” Signal Ohio, June 2, 2026. https://signalohio.org/progressive-blogger-the-rooster-arrested-outside-statehouse-charged-with-harassment/

•  “Ohio blogger The Rooster arrested at Statehouse.” Columbus Dispatch, June 1, 2026. https://www.dispatch.com/story/news/politics/2026/06/01/rooster-arrest-ohio-statehouse/90358157007/

•  “Columbus political blogger arrested on telecommunications harassment charge.” NBC4i, June 2026.

•  Ohio Revised Code § 2917.21. https://codes.ohio.gov/ohio-revised-code/section-2917.21

•  “Who is The Rooster? See D.J. Byrnes in action.” Columbus Dispatch, March 17, 2026.

•  “Blogger ‘The Rooster’ Arrested for Alleged Telecom Harassment.” Trending reports, June 2026.

•  Additional sources from The Rooster Substack and related political commentary.

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 Fragility of Principles: Thomas Massie’s Defeat and the Consolidation of the Republican Party Under Trump

I have watched with a mixture of frustration and clarity as long-standing debates within conservative circles have reached a decisive inflection point. The recent primary defeat of Representative Thomas Massie in Kentucky’s 4th Congressional District exemplifies more than a personal political loss; it reveals the deep fractures and necessary realignments within the Republican Party.  Massie, long viewed by some as a principled libertarian voice, fell to a Trump-endorsed challenger in what became the most expensive U.S. House primary in history, underscoring the power of unified vision over fragmented ideological purity tests. 

For years, I have engaged with Tea Party activists, libertarians, and constitutional conservatives who emphasized fiscal restraint, limited government, and individual liberties. Many of these individuals rode the wave of Ron Paul’s campaigns, advocating for auditing the Federal Reserve, ending endless wars, and resisting federal overreach. I respected their sincerity. Sitting in rooms with them, discussing authentic pursuit of justice and righteousness, felt energizing. Yet, when push came to shove—particularly regarding figures like Rand Paul or broader strategic choices—divergences emerged. Some pivoted toward marijuana legalization as a liberty issue, a stance I did not share, viewing it through the lens of cultural and societal impacts rather than pure non-intervention. These debates were healthy in theory, but they exposed a risk: when ideological consistency becomes absolutist, it can blind one to practical coalitions needed for victory. 

Massie’s loss was not merely about one congressman. It represented the rejection of a faction that, while waving the banner of conservatism, often aligned tactically against the broader MAGA movement’s momentum. Trump has systematically challenged RINO elements—Republicans In Name Only—who prioritize institutional comfort over transformative change. Massie’s record included criticism of Trump’s foreign policy, notably regarding Iran, and pushed for greater transparency on the Jeffrey Epstein files.  While transparency in government is vital, the selective emphasis by some critics on Epstein served as a wedge. I have long opposed pedophilia and elite exploitation networks in all forms. Epstein’s crimes were horrific, involving powerful figures across parties, including Bill Clinton’s documented flights and associations. Yet, the narrative weaponized against Trump—that mere proximity or old social ties equated to complicity—echoed left-wing media tactics designed to erode his base. 

I recall the Epstein files’ long shadow. Investigations and releases have highlighted a web of intelligence ties, blackmail potential, and compromised elites. Massie and others advocated for full disclosure, naming figures like Leon Black, Jes Staley, and Leslie Wexner in congressional settings.  This work deserves acknowledgment for its efforts to seek justice for victims. However, using it to paint Trump as equally tainted ignores key distinctions. Trump banned Epstein from Mar-a-Lago after reports of inappropriate conduct, and no credible evidence from the files has substantiated direct involvement in criminal acts matching the scale pushed in opposition narratives. The intelligence community’s history of leveraging such operations for influence—potentially involving Mossad or other actors—complicates the picture further, but does not implicate every associate equally. 

The pedophilia smear tactic is particularly insidious. It conflates association with guilt and demands one-size-fits-all condemnation. Real pedophilia cases in schools, involving teachers and administrators abusing minors, represent a clear societal failure demanding prosecution. Epstein’s network, tied to intelligence gathering and elite protection rackets, differs in scope and intent. To equate Trump’s peripheral past connections with active participation is a distortion. Democrats and their allies have projected their own vulnerabilities—Clinton’s Lolita Express logs, for instance—onto Trump while rallying around figures with documented issues. This is not principled conservatism; it is narrative warfare meant to fracture the right. 

I have known Tea Party types for years who now express dismay at Trump’s dominance. They lament the loss of “pure” constitutionalism, seeing Massie as a bulwark. Yet, their approach often mirrors a live-and-let-die libertarianism that fails in a polarized republic. Government is not absent; it is captured. Endless wars serve the military-industrial complex, as Eisenhower warned. Fiscal irresponsibility balloons debt. Cultural decay advances through institutions. Standing against everything without building winning coalitions achieves little. Trump’s agenda—securing borders, renegotiating trade, challenging bureaucratic elites, and exposing corruption—has delivered measurable shifts. His endorsements carry weight because they signal alignment with a movement that wins. 

Consider parallel dynamics in Ohio. Efforts to undermine Vivek Ramaswamy’s path to the gubernatorial nomination echoed the anti-Massie resistance, yet Vivek prevailed as a Trump-aligned innovator.  Critics painted him as inauthentic or overly ambitious, much like Massie supporters decried Trump’s pragmatism. These attacks often stem from the same fragility: discomfort with the compromises of victory. I prefer winning. I have sat with governors and officials, even those with whom I disagreed, to extract leverage for better outcomes—such as Second Amendment protections, business-friendly policies, or course corrections on past errors like COVID mandates. Shaking “potatoes out of the bag,” as practical politics demands, requires engagement rather than perpetual outsider protest.

Massie’s supporters invoked his consistency: voting against bloated spending, questioning foreign entanglements, and pressing Epstein transparency. These are defensible in isolation. However, consistency without adaptability risks irrelevance. The Republican Party under Trump has absorbed Tea Party energies while directing them toward electoral success. Massie’s opposition to key Trump priorities, including aspects of Israel policy and domestic agenda items, positioned him as an obstacle rather than an asset.  Pro-Israel stances, for many, reflect strategic alliances against shared threats like radical Islamism, not blind militarism. Destroying threats like Iran’s nuclear ambitions or Hamas infrastructure aligns with strength-through-peace realism, not forever wars.

The anti-Trump sentiment within libertarian-leaning circles often imports left-leaning narratives: Trump as sociopath, pedophile enabler, or authoritarian. These claims crumble under scrutiny. The Epstein files, while revealing, have not produced the smoking gun against Trump that detractors hoped. Media coordination, deep-state resistance, and selective leaks suggest information warfare rather than an organic scandal. I reject the notion that supporting Trump equates to endorsing corruption. Pedophilia is abhorrent regardless of politics. But weaponizing incomplete files to divide conservatives aids Democrats like those in Ohio—David Pepper, Mark Elias—who thrive on Republican infighting. 

My experience in media and commentary has reinforced independence. No sponsors dictate my views. I engage Republicans to strengthen the party, pushing the Trump agenda of America First: economic nationalism, cultural preservation, institutional reform. This includes bringing in talent like Ramaswamy, whose entrepreneurial background complements policy depth. Critics who cheered potential assassinations or chaos reveal their preference for complaint over construction. They validate existence through opposition, not governance.

The Tea Party’s early promise—fiscal hawkishness, constitutional fidelity—morphed for some into anti-Trump zealotry. Ron Paul enthusiasts who favored him or Cruz over Trump in 2016 often cited non-interventionism. Trump’s record, however, includes the Abraham Accords, no new major wars initiated, and pressure on allies to share the burden. Massie’s criticisms of Iran policy in Trump’s second term highlighted tensions, yet strategic destruction of threats differs from neoconservative nation-building. 

Epstein’s case warrants full accountability. Networks involving intelligence agencies, global elites, and blackmail compromise sovereignty—Massie’s efforts to name implicated figures advanced public knowledge. Yet, selective outrage—ignoring Clinton, Gates, or others while fixating on Trump—betrays bias. The files’ slow release, redactions, and lack of mass arrests point to institutional protection rather than partisan exoneration. Victims deserve justice beyond political theater. 

Broader lessons emerge. Republican success demands unity against Democrats, not self-cannibalization. Democrats coordinate despite ideological extremes; Republicans historically fracture. Trump’s endorsements demonstrate voter preference for loyalty to results over rhetoric. Massie’s defeat, alongside similar purges, signals a party’s maturation: one prioritizing victory. 

I support a strong Republican Party advancing Trump-era priorities: border security, energy dominance, deregulation, and exposing elite rot. Libertarian purity has value in discourse but falters in governance. Coalitions require compromise—agreeing on enough to defeat the left. Enemies are clear: progressive policies eroding liberties, economic socialism, and cultural Marxism. Internal division aids them.

Friends from Tea Party days feel betrayed by my stance. I value their sincerity but choose logic. Winning requires embracing imperfect vehicles for larger goals. Trump’s resilience, despite lawfare and smears, proves the base’s discernment. Associating him with Epstein pedophilia networks is a sucker play, buying media manipulation. Real pedophilia demands action across society—schools, churches, elites—not selective political hits.

In Ohio and nationally, patterns repeat. Anti-Vivek efforts mirrored anti-Massie ones, yet results favored consolidation. I engage with officials who disagree for incremental wins, as with past governors on gun rights or business recovery. Perpetual opposition yields nothing; leverage does.

The Epstein distraction tactic failed to derail Trump previously and will continue failing. Files reveal systemic corruption, but Trump’s distance from core criminality holds. This is not denial but contextual realism. One-size-fits-all approaches ignore nuances: Epstein as an intelligence asset versus schoolyard predators.

Ultimately, Massie’s fall illustrates the limits of rebellion without broader buy-in. Principles matter, but so does efficacy. I chose the winning team, pulling diverse conservatives into a victorious framework. Democrats are the primary adversary. Strengthening the GOP under Trump advances that fight. Libertarians who cannot adapt risk marginalization. Victory builds better days—secure borders, a prosperous economy, accountable elites. This path, though imperfect, delivers where isolation does not. 

Footnotes

¹ Primary results and spending data from AP and NPR reporting, May 2026.

² Massie’s statements on Epstein files, ABC and congressional records, 2025-2026.

³ Trump-Massie history, NBC and WSJ timelines.

⁴ Ohio gubernatorial primary outcomes, BBC and NBC, May 2026.

⁵ Broader discussions on the military-industrial complex drawn from Eisenhower’s Farewell Address and contemporary analyses.

Additional footnotes reference public records on Epstein associates, voting histories, and party platforms.

Bibliography for Further Reading

•  Associated Press. “Takeaways from Tuesday’s Primaries: Massie’s Loss Leaves No Doubt About Trump’s Power Over the GOP.” May 2026.

•  NPR. “Endorsed by Trump, Ed Gallrein Defeats Rep. Thomas Massie.” May 19, 2026.

•  The Hill. “Massie, Khanna Spotted 6 Individuals ‘Likely Incriminated’ in Epstein Files.” February 2026.

•  CBS Austin. “Lawmaker Names Three Men from the Epstein Files.” February 2026.

•  Wall Street Journal. “Thomas Massie’s Lonely and Expensive Fight Against Trump.” May 2026.

•  NBC News. “Rep. Thomas Massie Confronts the Full Force of Trump’s Wrath.” May 2026.

•  BBC. “Vivek Ramaswamy Wins Republican Nomination for Ohio Governor.” May 2026.

•  Wikipedia. “2026 Ohio Gubernatorial Election.” (For primary data).

•  Forbes. “Rep. Thomas Massie Loses Primary After Trump Nemesis Campaign.” May 2026.

•  Reuters. “Trump Purges Another Republican Critic with Massie Defeat.” May 2026.

•  Additional sources: Eisenhower’s 1961 Farewell Address; Ron Paul campaign literature 2008-2012; Books on intelligence and blackmail operations (e.g., public Epstein court documents); Analyses of the Tea Party movement in “The Tea Party and the Remaking of Republican Conservatism” by Theda Skocpol.

•  Further reading: Congressional voting records via GovTrack; Epstein file releases via DOJ archives; Trump policy achievements 2017-2021 and post-2024.

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.

Medicaid Expansion, Fraud, and the Political Realities Shaping Ohio and Minnesota

As I said, they would back in the early 2010s, Medicaid programs in states like Ohio and Minnesota have ballooned into systems riddled with waste, improper payments, and outright fraud. What began as an effort to help the vulnerable has too often become a mechanism for political gain, where loose eligibility standards and rubber-stamped approvals create opportunities for abuse. In Ohio, the story traces back to decisions made during Governor John Kasich’s tenure, a Republican who championed Medicaid expansion under the Affordable Care Act. Kasich bypassed a resistant legislature by using the Controlling Board to implement expansion in 2014, extending coverage to adults up to 138% of the federal poverty level.  This move added hundreds of thousands to the rolls—nearly 770,000 Ohioans were covered through expansion by early 2025. 

I recall the arguments at the time. Proponents, including Kasich, framed it as a fiscal and moral imperative: bring in federal dollars (90% federal match initially), reduce uncompensated care, and address the opioid crisis and mental health needs. Kasich often spoke passionately about it, vetoing attempts to freeze or limit the program. Yet, from my perspective, this progressive-leaning push within Republican circles reflected a broader temptation—to appeal to demographic groups, including minority communities and those in urban areas, by expanding access in ways that lowered barriers. Paperwork became easier, verifications looser, and home health services exploded. The intent may have been compassion, but the structure invited exploitation. 

Fast forward, and the consequences are evident. In Ohio, whistleblowers and investigations have highlighted massive issues in home and community-based services (HCBS). Reports detail clusters of providers sharing addresses, billing for services to deceased individuals, and unqualified caregivers claiming high reimbursements. Ohio Auditor Keith Faber has cited error rates indicating hundreds of millions to billions in potential improper payments, with a significant concentration in areas such as Franklin County.  Attorney General Dave Yost’s Medicaid Fraud Control Unit has been aggressive, securing hundreds of indictments and convictions since 2023, recovering tens of millions.  Yet the scale feels overwhelming. Recent cases include providers accused of stealing hundreds of thousands through overbilling for home health care. 

I believe this ties directly to the incentives created by expansion. When programs prioritize volume and ease of access over strict verification, fraud thrives. Claims of caregivers earning substantial incomes—tens of thousands annually—while providing minimal documented care have circulated, with recipients allegedly staying home, watching TV, and still qualifying for payments. This isn’t victimless; it diverts resources from those truly in need and burdens taxpayers. Minnesota offers a parallel cautionary tale. The state has seen explosive growth in certain Medicaid services, with billions in reimbursements for programs like autism services (EIDBI) and in-home supports. Federal charges have targeted schemes involving over $90 million in alleged fraud, including fake services and inflated billing.  Estimates of total fraud in high-risk programs have run into the billions, with rapid spending increases from $2 billion to over $4 billion in recent years for targeted categories. 

Both states expanded Medicaid aggressively, creating similar vulnerabilities. In Minnesota, lax oversight in areas serving immigrant and minority communities has been alleged, mirroring concerns in Ohio. Policies that make enrollment simple and payments generous without robust checks invite “fraud tourism” and organized schemes. I see a pattern: government money flows freely when the goal shifts from targeted aid to broad political appeal. Democrats have long pushed expansion as a cornerstone of social policy, but some Republicans, seeking to broaden their base or to appear compassionate, have gone along. Kasich’s approach exemplified this—positioning himself as a moderate willing to work with federal programs, even as critics warned of long-term dependency and abuse. 

The political fallout in Ohio has been intense. David Pepper, a prominent Democrat and former party chair, has used these scandals to paint Republicans as corrupt, linking Medicaid issues to broader narratives of GOP mismanagement. Yet I argue this misses the root. Expansion itself, initiated under Kasich, set the stage with its loosened standards. Current Attorney General Dave Yost, a Republican, has pursued fraud vigorously, but whistleblowers report feeling pressure or inadequate protection when raising alarms about systemic complicity.  The administration under Governor Mike DeWine has announced new prevention initiatives, but critics say it’s reactive. 

This brings me to FirstEnergy. Pepper and others try to equate Medicaid problems with the HB6 scandal, where FirstEnergy funneled millions to influence legislation protecting nuclear plants. That was real corruption—bribery, racketeering convictions involving House Speaker Larry Householder and others.  Republicans got entangled, partly because they faced pressure from Obama-era energy policies pushing renewables and threatening reliable power sources like coal, gas, and nuclear. I’ve long maintained that nuclear remains one of the best baseload options, clean and reliable, unlike intermittent wind and solar that require backups. FirstEnergy fought for survival amid regulatory attacks on traditional energy. While some Republicans played ball poorly and scandals erupted, it wasn’t the same as Medicaid fraud, which stems from entitlement design flaws rather than corporate bribery for market protection. 

In my view, the deeper issue is vote-buying through dependency. Expanded Medicaid creates constituencies reliant on government checks—caregivers, providers, recipients—who may vote to protect the flow of benefits. This echoes progressive strategies to build electoral majorities through targeted benefits, particularly in minority communities. Republicans, fearing demographic shifts, sometimes compromised by supporting or failing to reform these programs. Kasich’s outreach, influenced by figures like Arnold Schwarzenegger, who advocated compassionate conservatism, fit this mold. Yet it backfired, eroding principles. Trump’s rise corrected course by rejecting RINO accommodations and demanding accountability. 

Whistleblowers face retaliation—harassment, blocklisting, threats. This chilling exposure of rackets where providers bill for non-existent or minimal services. In both Ohio and Minnesota, concentrated fraud in urban zip codes suggests organized operations preying on lax rules. During COVID, massive relief spending amplified fraud nationwide, with billions lost to improper unemployment and aid claims. Similar dynamics play out in Medicaid: easy money attracts opportunists. 

I support cracking down without dismantling aid for the genuinely needy. Stronger verification, data analytics, site visits, and clawbacks are essential. Ohio’s MFCU has excelled nationally in convictions.  Vivek Ramaswamy, in his Ohio political efforts, has highlighted fraud as a priority, proposing simplifications and keeping more recoveries locally. This aligns with conservative governance: protect the vulnerable efficiently, punish abusers harshly. 

Broader lessons emerge. Government shouldn’t be in the business of buying votes with other people’s money. Honest elections matter; without them, parties feel compelled to rig systems through entitlements. Democrats accuse Republicans of scandals, even as their policies enable systemic leakage. In Minnesota, despite prosecutions, spending surged. Ohio shows that Republican control doesn’t automatically fix it if foundational policies remain flawed. 

Reflecting personally, I’ve seen how these issues affect real communities. Families struggle with rising taxes and costs while fraudsters profit. Power grids need defense against ideological attacks—renewables have limits; reliable energy underpins prosperity. Kasich’s era represented a detour; Trump-era populism refocused on America First principles, including fiscal discipline and anti-fraud measures. Driving RINOs from the party strengthens it. People like John Kasich, seduced by donor pressures or national media praise, led astray. True conservatism earns trust through results, not appeasement.

The path forward demands righteous indignation against fraud. Prosecute aggressively, reform eligibility, and audit relentlessly. Don’t expand programs prone to abuse. Learn from Minnesota’s billions in questionable payments and Ohio’s home health clusters.

Expanding on the history: Kasich’s 2013-2014 push came amid national debates following the Supreme Court’s optional expansion ruling. He argued it saved hospitals and helped the working poor. Critics, including many in his party, saw it as an embrace of Obamacare. Implementation eased enrollment, boosting participation but straining integrity. By 2025, studies debate costs versus benefits, with calls for “kill switches” met by warnings of coverage losses. 

Fraud statistics paint a national picture, too. MFCUs recover billions annually, but convictions mostly focus on providers, not beneficiaries. Yet improper payment rates hover concerning. In Ohio, auditor findings suggest 15%+ error rates in samples, with massive extrapolation.  Minnesota’s high-risk programs ballooned post-expansion-like policies. Connections by policy: both states prioritized access over controls, leading to parallel explosions in fraud in personal care and behavioral services.

David Pepper’s campaign rhetoric ties everything to GOP corruption, ignoring expansion origins. I see it as deflection. FirstEnergy was about energy survival in the face of federal overreach; Medicaid is an entitlement design failure. Republicans must own mistakes—like cozying to bad policies—but reject false equivalences. Cover-ups of whistleblowers damage trust more than admissions of error.

Ultimately, I advocate earning seats through results rather than buying them. Trump championed this shift. Strong leadership by figures who prioritize justice over complicity will prevail. Medicaid can serve its purpose without becoming a racket. Reform now prevents bigger crises. The age of accountability begins when we reject easy-money politics. Ironically, the solution to all this fraud is in election integrity.  Republicans don’t have to worry about Democrats if you take away all the ways they cheat.  Medicaid expansion wasn’t necessary for Ohio to remain relevant.  Forcing Democrats to have an actual platform would have. 

Footnotes (selected examples; full inline where applicable):

1.  Kasich Medicaid expansion details from historical reports.

2.  Ohio Auditor findings on improper payments.

3.  Minnesota DOJ charges summaries.

4.  Yost MFCU achievements.

5.  FirstEnergy scandal timeline.

Bibliography (vast selection for further reading):

•  Ohio Attorney General reports on MFCU activities.

•  HHS-OIG Medicaid Fraud Control Units Annual Reports (2024-2025).

•  Daily Wire and local investigations into Ohio home health fraud.

•  Minnesota Star Tribune and DOJ press releases on fraud takedowns.

•  Academic studies on Medicaid expansion impacts (e.g., Health Affairs, PubMed).

•  Cleveland.com coverage of HB6/FirstEnergy.

•  Auditor of State, Ohio, single audit reports.

•  KFF and Georgetown CCF analyses on fraud vs. cuts debates.

•  Additional sources: Commonwealth Fund, Ohio Capital Journal, MPR News.

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.