Category: Keel

I Didn’t Want To Be That Guy: The Influence of Non-Human Intelligence on the Ohio, Newark Holy Stones

I had waited years for this…………………………………….

In January 2020, a UFO was filmed directly over the Newark Earthworks. L.A. Marzulli posted about the video, calling it no coincidence. He sees the site as tied to the Nephilim and fallen angels, pointing to the advanced 18.6-year lunar cycle built into the Octagon as evidence that the knowledge couldn’t have come from the local people alone. To him, the sighting proved a direct link between these ancient mound complexes worldwide and the modern UFO phenomenon.  And this story points to a deeper issue: that people like Marzulli have lost any trust in any institutional contributor, and what that means for the continuation of civilization itself.  After all, I did have a UFO experience myself, which I attribute more to occult practice than physical contact, which makes the Holy Stones of that region much more interesting and important than they otherwise would be.  Because of this and many similar controversies, I am slightly obsessed with how non-human intelligence, whether it be overt demons or aliens from outside of Earth’s gravity imprint, has shaped human civilization in ways that institutional archaeology cannot deal with, because they don’t have the current means, which is exactly why I sat down to write The Politics of Heaven.  I was always inspired by Frazer’s Golden Bough and how it created the field of anthropology, and for my own work, I want to contribute to the continued evolution of the vast dialogue of that subject matter: how much non-human intelligence has shaped human society from the very beginning, not with just conspiracy theory consideration, but with hard, observable science. 

I’ve been thinking along similar lines, though I come at it from a different angle. The Newark Earthworks aren’t just ceremonial or astronomical in the usual sense. I propose that they function like a giant horizontal clock laid flat on the ground, precisely tracking the moon’s complex 18.6-year nodal cycle. That’s not casual observation — it’s sophisticated long-term record-keeping.

Here’s where it gets interesting to me: if you have entities traveling from outside our normal frame of reference, experiencing time dilation, these massive, visible-from-the-air geometric earthworks would make perfect navigational markers not just for where you are, but for when you are. The stars and moon shift over centuries. A culture that can leave and return after what feels like a short trip to them might need reliable ground references to calibrate exactly which phase of earthly time they’ve arrived in. The Newark complex, with its perfect lunar alignments, would serve that purpose beautifully — like tying ribbons on trees in a forest before GPS existed to keep from getting lost, except on a monumental, landscape scale.

My own Middletown UFO sighting, where I essentially challenged it to show up, and it did a couple of days later, fits the pattern too. These appearances often feel responsive, almost ritualistic. Whether you call them non-human intelligence, watchers, or something else, the connection between these ancient precision sites and modern UAP activity keeps showing up.

It’s one more piece suggesting the story of these earthworks — and the Holy Stones found nearby — is far from settled. The more we learn about UAPs, the more the old archaeological assumptions look incomplete.

For decades, I had known about the Johnson-Humrickhouse Museum up in Coshocton, the small but remarkable place that holds the Newark Holy Stones—the Decalogue Stone with its figure and Hebrew inscriptions, the Keystone, the associated pieces. I already owned good replicas I had purchased from them years earlier, and I had studied the photographs, the arguments, the woodcut copies David Wyrick made. But I had never stood in front of the actual stones in their case. When the chance came with family—my wife, a daughter, a few of the grandchildren—I took it. We drove out on a day when the museum opened at noon. We arrived early, stood outside for a couple of minutes after the doors opened, and when the young woman who unlocked the door saw us, she looked surprised. They do not get many visitors on an average weekday. I told her I had come a long way to see the Holy Stones. She let us in.

The museum sits in a quiet stretch of central Ohio, not far from the great Newark Earthworks complex that spreads across what is now the city of Newark and the surrounding countryside. Most people driving past on the main roads have no idea what lies just off the pavement. The Great Circle, the Octagon, the long processional avenues—these were not casual dirt piles. They are precise geometric constructions aligned to the movements of the moon over its 18.6-year nodal cycle. The Hopewell people who built and used them, roughly two thousand years ago, understood observational astronomy at a level that still astonishes anyone who takes the time to stand on the viewing platform between the Circle and the Octagon and watch the alignments play out. Avenues once guided people—and perhaps, in their understanding, spirits—along lines that connected earth to sky. Much of it is gone now. Housing developments, roads, restaurants, and an old golf course that has since closed cover what were once open ceremonial spaces. The main highway cuts through what was once part of the complex. What remains is still extraordinary, but it takes imagination and stubbornness to see the full scale of what was built here.

Inside the museum, I wandered through the gift shop first, as I always do in places like this. I was not expecting to find anything new. I already had the Holy Stones replicas at home. Then I saw three flat sandstone pieces sitting among other small items. No price tag stood out. They looked familiar the moment I picked one up—the size, the weight, the carved designs. I knew exactly what it was: a replica of the Wilmington Tablet, the Adena sandstone piece found in Sparks Mound near Wilmington, Ohio, the one now kept at the Ohio History Center in Columbus. The young woman at the counter thought they were coasters. She had to call someone to find a price. Five dollars. I bought one without hesitation. I had been looking for a good replica of that tablet for a long time. The Cincinnati Tablet, found in 1841 when a mound at Fifth and Mound Streets in downtown Cincinnati was leveled for construction—the site is now near a UPS facility—had been displayed for years at the Cincinnati Museum Center before it was removed from the Native American exhibits. It did not fit the prevailing story comfortably. The Wilmington Tablet carries its own mysteries: the main face with its stylized figures, the edges and sides marked in ways that suggest a numerical or identifying system, perhaps a personal marker for someone of importance buried with it, or a template used in ritual or body marking. Adena tablets like these have been interpreted as tattoo stamps, ownership identifiers, or cosmological diagrams. Whatever their precise function, they were important enough to be placed with the dead.

I carried the new replica with me into the exhibit area and sat down in front of the Decalogue Stone. The case holds the stone itself along with its sandstone box. The figure on the front—bearded, robed, holding what appears to be a tablet or scroll—has long been read as Moses. The sides and back carry a condensed version of the Ten Commandments in Hebrew. The carving is competent but not perfect by ancient standards; there are letter forms that mix periods and a few anomalies that scholars have used to argue for a nineteenth-century origin. The museum’s current interpretive panels, updated in recent years, present the stones straightforwardly as forgeries created in the 1860s. The explanation centers on the social and political climate before and during the Civil War. Monogenism—the biblical idea that all humans descend from a single pair, Adam and Eve—stood in opposition to polygenism, the notion that different races were separate species or creations. Polygenist arguments were sometimes used to justify slavery and unequal treatment. A discovery of ancient Hebrew inscriptions in Ohio mounds could be deployed to support monogenism, to argue that biblical history reached the Americas long before Columbus, and thereby to undermine justifications for treating any group of people as less than fully human. David Wyrick, the Newark surveyor and antiquarian who brought the stones forward in 1860, was a man of his time—interested in the mounds, respectful of their builders, and apparently inclined toward biblical literalism and anti-slavery views. His reputation suffered after the findings. He died a few years later, in 1864, amid personal difficulties that included pain and what some accounts describe as heavy use of medication. Most professional archaeologists and historians dismissed the stones as nineteenth-century creations meant to influence the great debate of the age.

David Wyrick died on April 16, 1864, at the age of 57. Contemporary newspaper accounts reported that he died suddenly from an overdose of laudanum, a common opium-based painkiller he had been taking regularly for a long-term painful illness, most likely severe rheumatoid arthritis.

Local records and the original reporting did not list his death as suicide. The official cause was listed as “rheumatism” in some documents, and the newspaper noted the overdose without claiming it was intentional. However, the intense controversy surrounding the Holy Stones, combined with his financial troubles, led later writers to describe it as suicide. That narrative stuck in many books and articles for decades, even though the primary sources from 1864 do not support it.

The stress from the backlash clearly took a heavy toll on him physically and mentally. Still, the evidence shows he was managing chronic pain with medication that ultimately proved fatal. I would propose that it granted non-human intelligence access to his mind under duress, a move that proved catastrophic. 

The image in the visitor center is David Wyrick’s 1860 survey map of the Newark Earthworks. It’s a detailed, hand-drawn overhead plan showing the full layout of the Great Circle, the Octagon, the parallel walls connecting them, and the surrounding landscape as it existed at the time. It includes roads, the Ohio and Erie Canal, railroad lines, and even the Great Circle, which was used as the Licking County Fairgrounds.

It’s widely considered one of the most accurate early maps of the site, which is why Ohio History Connection still displays and references it. It’s not an artistic painting; it’s a surveyor’s technical drawing — clean, precise lines with measurements and labels.

I sat there longer than I expected. The grandchildren moved around the room, patient, as children are when grandpa gets quiet in front of old things. My daughter kept the camera ready because she knows the look I get when something lands hard. I felt a familiar weight settle in. I have spent most of my life being the person who says the thing that makes a room go quiet. I do not enjoy it. I would rather study, walk the sites, read the reports, and keep my thoughts to myself. But the pattern forming in my mind as I looked at the Holy Stones and read the museum’s careful, institutionally approved explanation would not stay quiet. The stones may indeed be nineteenth-century work. The letter forms, the timing with Lincoln’s election, the social circles Wyrick moved in—all of that can be documented. Yet the question “why would someone go to this much trouble?” still sits there. The mainstream answer is political and religious motivation in a divided country. That answer is not wrong on its face. It is incomplete.

What struck me, sitting in that chair, was how little room the current framing leaves for the possibility that Wyrick himself was not the originator of the content, or that, even if he carved or commissioned the stones, the impulse and the specific knowledge came from elsewhere. Pain medications of the mid-nineteenth century were not inert. Some had properties that alter consciousness. Wyrick was a man under strain, already deeply engaged with the mounds and their meanings, moving through a landscape where indigenous knowledge and biblical imagination were colliding in real time. Across human history, people in altered states—whether through plants, fasting, ritual, or substances—have reported contact with intelligences that are not their own. They have returned with precise information about astronomy, geometry, architecture, and moral order. The Newark Earthworks themselves demonstrate exactly that kind of precise knowledge: alignments that track the moon’s complex cycle, geometry that rivals anything built in the Old World at the same period. The Hopewell culture that maintained and expanded these sites was part of a vast interaction sphere that moved copper from the Great Lakes, mica from the Appalachians, and ideas across hundreds of miles. They were not isolated. They were connected.

The possibility that non-human intelligences have interacted with human beings across deep time is no longer the fringe claim it once was. Government releases on UAPs in recent years have normalized the conversation in ways that would have been impossible even a decade ago. Films like Disclosure Day and public discussions now explore themes of possession, mind influence, and non-human entities operating through human agents. Some of these portrayals treat the phenomenon as technological or biological. Others, including certain narratives that reached wide audiences, frame it in explicitly spiritual terms—entities that seek to override human sovereignty, countered by faith, symbol, and will. I watched one such portrayal not long before this visit and recognized the pattern immediately. The same dynamic appears in ancient accounts worldwide: shamanic traditions in which practitioners enter altered states to receive knowledge from “the gods” or spirits; biblical descriptions of encounters at burning bushes, on mountaintops, or in temples complete with high place drug use, to a modern eye familiar with high-speed travel and gravitational effects, like interactions with non-local intelligences; the global recurrence of similar architectural and astronomical knowledge appearing in places separated by oceans and centuries.

If non-human intelligences have been present and active, they would not need wooden ships or land bridges to move knowledge. They would need markers. The Newark Earthworks, with their lunar clock and visible geometry, serve perfectly as reference points that can be read from above or used by people on the ground to synchronize time over long intervals. Time dilation is not science fiction; it is a measured fact. Travelers moving at relativistic speeds or operating near significant gravitational gradients experience time differently from observers on Earth’s surface. A short subjective journey for them could correspond to centuries or more here. Upon return, they would need fixed, durable references—alignments to stars and moon, geometric figures visible from altitude, places where the calendar could be read without ambiguity. The Hopewell and Adena landscapes contain exactly those features. So do other ancient sites that display sudden leaps in mathematical and observational sophistication. The question is not whether the knowledge appears; it is where it came from and why it appears in the patterns it does.

The Wilmington Tablet I now own a replica of fits into this larger question. It was buried with someone important enough that their personal marker was placed in the mound. The edge markings that catch the eye when you turn the piece over suggest a system—numbers, ownership, affiliation, or ritual status. Similar tablets from the Adena sphere have been found with red ochre residue consistent with use as printing or stamping devices, possibly for body art that identified lineage, achievement, or spiritual standing. If these were “ID cards” for the dead, they imply a society that tracked individual identity and status with precision across generations. That level of organization recurs in mound-building cultures of the Ohio Valley and beyond. It does not require external input to exist, but the sudden appearance of specific symbolic and mathematical systems in multiple places at roughly the same horizon of development invites the question of common inspiration.

I do not claim the Holy Stones are ancient. The evidence the museum presents for a nineteenth-century creation is substantial and has been reinforced by careful recent work. What I am willing to say, after sitting with the stones and walking the remnants of the earthworks, is that the story we are told about why they exist is too tidy. It reduces a complex man and a complex moment to a simple political hoax. It leaves no room for the possibility that Wyrick, already immersed in the mounds and carrying his own burdens, encountered something—an idea, an image, a compulsion—that felt as if it came from outside himself. That experience would not make the stones ancient. It would make them artifacts of contact, whether the contact was spiritual, psychological, or something we do not yet have language for. The same pattern appears in other times and places where precise knowledge falls into the hands of people under stress or in altered states: the biblical prophets, the builders of megalithic monuments, the medicine people who maintained alignments and oral calendars over centuries.

The destruction of the physical evidence compounds the problem. Newark itself was built over and through one of the most significant ceremonial landscapes in North America. Miamisburg Mound sits in a town that grew around it. Countless smaller mounds were plowed flat or bulldozed for roads and foundations before anyone could record what they contained. The Windover Pond site in Florida, with its 8,000-year-old burials preserving brain tissue and some of the oldest textiles in the Americas, revealed people whose material culture and genetic signals do not fit neatly into later narratives of isolation and simplicity. Bones and artifacts continue to be reburied under policies that prioritize contemporary tribal affiliation over scientific study, even when the genetic and cultural distance is vast. Every time we pave or rebury without full documentation, we remove data that might clarify whether the knowledge visible in these sites was generated locally, transmitted through ordinary human networks, or introduced through less conventional channels.

Archaeologists do the hard, necessary work of excavation, mapping, and dating. I respect that labor. What I question is the institutional reluctance to entertain hypotheses that fall outside the current consensus, especially when the consensus itself rests partly on the absence of evidence that has been destroyed or never collected. The same scholars who correctly note that the Holy Stones’ Hebrew shows characteristics of nineteenth-century Bibles are often the first to dismiss any suggestion that pre-Columbian contact or non-local inspiration could explain other anomalies. The stones become a cautionary tale about forgeries rather than a prompt to ask why a surveyor in 1860 would risk everything to place Hebrew commandments inside a Hopewell-era mound. The answer “politics” is available. The answer “something spoke to him in a way that felt authoritative” is not, because it opens territory that academic archaeology has largely ceded to other disciplines or to popular writers.

My own work, particularly the book I have been completing, looks to hold both the documented record and the larger pattern in view. The Politics of Heaven is not an attack on archaeology. It is a dedicated effort to reconnect what we can see on the ground—earthworks, tablets, alignments, sudden appearances of sophisticated knowledge—with the possibility that non-human intelligences have been active participants in human affairs for a very long time. That possibility does not require rejecting indigenous achievement. It expands it. The people who built and used the Newark complex were sophisticated observers and engineers. They also lived in a world where altered states, visionary experience, and communication with non-ordinary intelligences were part of the cultural toolkit. The same toolkit appears in the ancient Near East, in Britain, in Mesoamerica, and in the shamanic traditions that persist today. The content of what comes through those channels varies, but the mechanism is recurrent.

Sitting in the museum that afternoon, I realized again why I have to write what I am writing. The stones are on display. The earthworks are still there in fragments. The UAP files are coming out. The cultural conversation has shifted enough that a person can say, without immediate professional ruin, that the old categories—isolated continents, purely local invention, no external intelligences—are no longer sufficient to explain the full record. David Wyrick may have been a forger, a dupe, a sincere man who encountered something he could not fully explain, or all three at different moments. He was an abolitionist, like Lincoln, opposed to slavery, and I think he was a pretty good person.  The stones he brought forward remain touchstones. They force us to ask what counts as evidence and whose stories get to shape the past. The Wilmington Tablet replica now sits on a shelf in my house. It is not ancient. It is a modern copy of an ancient object that, in turn, raises questions we have not yet answered. When I look at it, I think about the person it once identified or accompanied, the culture that made it important enough to bury, and the long chain of curiosity that brought a replica into my hands on an ordinary afternoon in Coshocton.

The grandchildren eventually pulled me toward the door. We stopped at a small tavern down the road for fish and chips. I set the tablet on the table for a moment and joked that it needed to eat too. The absurdity made them laugh, which was the point. Later, driving home through the Ohio countryside, I kept returning to the image of the Decalogue Stone in its case and the museum’s careful panels explaining its modern origin. They are not wrong about the carving. They are incomplete about the context. The full story of these places and these objects will require more than one discipline and more than one kind of evidence. It will require the willingness to sit with anomalies instead of explaining them away, to walk the remaining earthworks at moonrise, to hold a tablet in your hands and ask what it was for, and to consider that the intelligences our ancestors called gods, spirits, or watchers may have been something we are only now beginning to name again.

I did not want to be the person who has to say these things out loud in public. I still do not. But the pattern is there, the sites are there, the disclosures are happening, and the stones continue to ask their questions. The Johnson-Humrickhouse Museum did its job. It preserved the objects, updated the interpretation, and let a visitor sit quietly in front of them long enough for the next layer of the story to become visible. That is what good museums do. The rest is up to those of us who walk out the door still carrying the questions.

The mainstream interpretation encountered at the museum and the broader synthesis regarding non-human intelligence, time dilation, archaeoastronomy, spiritual influence, and the need to re-evaluate assumptions in light of emerging data. Personal observations and opinions are rendered in the first person throughout. Background on the Newark Earthworks, Hopewell/Adena contexts, Wyrick controversy, specific tablets, and institutional shifts is woven into the narrative rather than presented as separate sections. A bibliography of key sources for further reading follows.)

Selected Sources and Further Reading.  But in essence, this is why I wrote The Politics of Heaven, to explore some of these out-of-the-box issues and put them in a useful, modern context.

•  Johnson-Humrickhouse Museum, Coshocton, Ohio. Exhibit materials and presentations on the Newark Holy Stones (updated circa 2020–2022), including work by museum staff and archaeologist Brad Lepper. The museum website and related publications detail the stones’ history and current interpretation as nineteenth-century artifacts that reflect monogenist/polygenist debates.

•  Wikipedia and scholarly summaries on the Newark Holy Stones (cross-referenced with primary accounts): consensus view as likely a hoax or planted artifacts from 1860, with discussion of Wyrick’s role, letter-form anomalies, and social context pre-Civil War.

•  Ohio History Connection / Ohio History Center resources on the Wilmington Tablet (Sparks Mound, Clinton County) and Cincinnati Tablet (Fifth & Mound Streets discovery, 1841). Adena culture context for engraved sandstone tablets.

•  Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks (UNESCO World Heritage Site documentation) and Newark Earthworks visitor resources: lunar alignments, 18.6-year cycle, geometric precision, Hopewell interaction sphere.

•  Ross Hamilton, The Mystery of the Serpent Mound (and related works on Ohio earthworks geometry and astronomy).

•  Graham Hancock’s publications on ancient civilizations, consciousness, and alternative historical frameworks (for engagement with entheogen and non-local influence hypotheses; contrasted in the essay with sovereignty concerns).

•  Biblical Archaeology Review (long-term reference for comparative ancient Near Eastern and American contexts).

•  Primary historical accounts of David Wyrick’s discoveries (1860–1861 pamphlets and contemporary reports) and later analyses (e.g., Whittlesey, Lepper, and others on authenticity debates).

•  UAP-related government releases and congressional records (post-2017 onward) for the shifting public and official conversation on non-human intelligence.

•  Additional context on Adena/Hopewell tablets, Windover Pond site (Florida), time dilation in relativity, and global parallels in archaeoastronomy and altered-state traditions can be found in standard archaeological syntheses and peer-reviewed journals on those topics.

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.

Make a Footstool Out of Your Enemies in Ohio: Vivek Ramaswamy, Amy Acton, and Why Democrats Are Panicking in a Red State–and why the Rooster had to go to jail

The great serpent watches over our dance, and right now in Ohio politics, it’s coiling tightly around the desperate maneuvers of progressives who know they’re in trouble. There aren’t enough Democrats in Ohio, especially when President Trump comes out campaigning this summer. I’ve been involved in politics long enough to see the patterns, and this one is clear as day. Vivek Ramaswamy is going to win the governorship, likely in the 55% range or better against Amy Acton, and that reality has the left losing its mind.¹

It’s early in the general election cycle as of mid-June 2026, but the signs are unmistakable. Recent polling shows a tight race on paper, but I believe it significantly understates Ramaswamy’s strength. Take the Echelon Insights poll from early April showing Ramaswamy at 49% to Acton’s 44%. Or NC Research with Ramaswamy ahead 53-43. Even in tighter surveys like Bowling Green State University’s April poll, it was essentially a statistical tie around 48-47. A late May/early June Fox News poll had Acton at 50% and Ramaswamy at 49%.² But here’s my take, grounded in years of watching Ohio elections: these numbers are better for Vivek than they appear. Conservatives and industrious Republicans like me often don’t answer polls. I had one the other day—someone calling because I vote in every primary and general. I was too busy to engage. Many busy, working people on our side feel the same. We’re not sitting around waiting for pollsters. That non-response bias tilts the real electorate further toward Ramaswamy.³

Democrats know this too. That’s why they’re desperate, rallying around figures like “The Rooster”—D.J. Byrnes, the progressive blogger arrested at the Statehouse in early June for allegedly sending an explicit, digitally altered image of Shrek with an exposed penis to a state senator. They frame it as Republicans crushing free speech, but let’s be honest: sending disgraceful material like that to elected officials isn’t journalism or protected speech. It’s harassment. I don’t want senators dealing with that kind of behavior from so-called media members. The Rooster has a history of pushing boundaries, and Democrats defend it because it fits their pattern—low ethical standards, tolerance for chaos, and hostility toward law and order.⁴

This desperation stems from deeper demographic and cultural realities. Ohio isn’t California or New York. It’s a state that has consistently leaned Republican in recent cycles, especially at the statewide level. There aren’t enough reliable Democratic voters to overcome the MAGA wave, particularly with Trump actively supporting candidates like Ramaswamy and Jon Husted. Trump’s endorsement and summer appearances will solidify the base and pull in independents and even some union Democrats. Sherrod Brown knows the writing is on the wall too—his Senate race faces similar headwinds.⁵

Amy Acton’s campaign is trying every angle. She leans on her time as state health director during COVID, pandering to nurses, teachers’ unions, and public sector interests. “Remember how I supported the unions,” she signals. But that’s a losing message in 2026. Public sector unions, especially teachers’ unions pushing levies every few years, have radicalized themselves. The old model of zip-code-based funding and collective bargaining, which inflates costs, is dying. The future is student-centered funding—money follows the child, not the district bureaucracy. I’ve been saying this for years, going back to my heavy involvement around Senate Bill 5 in 2011-2012.⁶

I had my name all over discussions about SB 5. I was on WLW radio multiple times a week, pushing the argument that public-sector unions bargaining for taxpayer-funded benefits create perverse incentives. It wasn’t perfectly messaged at the time, and Republicans took a hit in the 2011 repeal vote, but the underlying principle was sound. Taxpayers deserve value. Acton’s union pandering won’t win over the broader electorate. Many union members, especially in places like Youngstown and northern Ohio, have shifted toward Trump and MAGA priorities—law and order, economic realism, America First. They’re not buying the big-government Marxism anymore.⁷

I’ve watched this evolution closely from Butler County. As someone deeply engaged in local issues, Lakota schools, tax fights, and statewide races, I see coalition-building underway. Vivek Ramaswamy brings fresh energy—entrepreneurial success, anti-woke clarity, and a vision for reducing government bloat. Pair that with Trump’s endorsement and events this summer, and the path is clear. Internal polling that Democrats have seen must be grim. That’s why the panic attacks and personal attacks ramp up. They can’t win on policy, so they smear.⁸

Progressives like the Rooster crowd—often smelling of marijuana, hanging at music festivals, embracing anarchist vibes—represent a demographic that doesn’t have the numbers. They want big government to shield chaos, erode Christian values, and oppose things like posting the Ten Commandments in courthouses. They hate law and order because it constrains their tendencies. But Ohio voters, by and large, want safety, prosperity, lower taxes, and accountability. Ramaswamy’s message of innovation, school choice, and fiscal responsibility resonates. Property tax relief, income tax reduction—these are winning issues. Democrats’ wealth redistribution and union protection rackets don’t sell here.⁹

Look at the broader national picture. Even in California, there are signs of pushback. I hosted an event at which Steve Hilton announced his gubernatorial run, and I’m optimistic about shifts there, too. Progressive governance has delivered homelessness, crime, and dysfunction. Ohio won’t repeat that mistake. Acton’s COVID record, public sector ties, and alignment with national Democrats who’ve lost touch with working people doom her chances. Polling may fluctuate, but turnout models favor Republicans. Trump’s coattails in a midterm-adjacent year (with strong national sentiment) will help.¹⁰

Republicans need to stay disciplined. Defend school choice, tax reform, and law enforcement without apology. Throw criminals in jail when warranted—like the Rooster case. It’s not about crushing speech; it’s about basic decency and accountability. Democrats do the same when roles reverse and never look back. Balance requires reciprocity. At the polls, make their ideas a footstool. Ohioans want results, not excuses.¹¹

My confidence in Ramaswamy comes from decades of observation. From the Reform Party to the Tea Party to MAGA, the momentum is with commonsense conservatives. Union voters crossing over, independents rejecting radicalism, rural and suburban turnout—the math works. Acton’s path relies on a blue wave that isn’t materializing. Sherrod Brown’s struggles show the same vulnerability.¹²

Trump’s support will seal it. By November, I expect Ramaswamy in the mid-50s, Acton in the 40s. Bank on it. Ohio stays red for good reason.¹³

Footnotes

¹ General observations on Ohio demographics and Trump influence.

² Aggregated from recent polls including Echelon Insights (April 2026), NC Research, Fox News (May/June 2026), Bowling Green State University.

³ Non-response bias in conservative polling.

⁴ Reporting on D.J. Byrnes “The Rooster” arrest for telecommunications harassment involving an explicit image.

⁵ Trump endorsements and Ohio statewide trends.

⁶ SB 5 history and user involvement via WLW radio.

⁷ Union voter shifts toward MAGA.

⁸ Ramaswamy’s platform strengths.

⁹ Progressive demographic limitations.

¹⁰ California parallels and Steve Hilton context.

¹¹ Law-and-order reciprocity.

¹² Broader electoral math.

¹³ Ties to personal philosophy and writings. 

Bibliography

•  Ohio Capital Journal, “Democrat Amy Acton and Republican Vivek Ramaswamy advance” (May 5, 2026).

•  The Hill, Ramaswamy-Acton showdown coverage.

•  270toWin and Wikipedia 2026 Ohio Gubernatorial Polls (various April-June 2026).

•  Fox News, Bowling Green State University, Echelon Insights poll toplines.

•  Columbus Dispatch and Signal Ohio reporting on “The Rooster” arrest (June 2026).

•  Historical coverage of Ohio SB 5 (2011-2012).

•  Rich Hoffman’s writings and The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business.

•  Additional sources on Ohio politics, unions, and Trump endorsements.

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.

Some of my Jaw Dropping Statements about History: Serpent Mound, Ancient Mysteries, Disclosure, and the Politics of Heaven

I was really impressed with a recent piece by Donna D’Errico. She produces YouTube videos as part of the Myth Bound series, and I completely understand her approach. In an era when everyone can have their own media platform, people like Donna are stepping up to explore Earth’s mysteries afresh. She’s doing a kind of modern Josh Gates-style investigation—traveling to sites, talking to experts, and digging into legends with genuine curiosity. Her episode on Serpent Mound struck me as particularly strong. 

Before I dive deeper, I have to acknowledge that this discussion probably won’t win me many friends—especially as my book The Politics of Heaven nears publication during a time when Spielberg’s Disclosure Day and waves of official UAP releases are forcing people to reconsider long-dismissed ideas. My reference point here is one of deep respect for the field: I love archaeologists. I admire the dedication it takes to spend years in the dirt, uncovering artifacts so the rest of us can wrestle with their meaning. But like any institutional endeavor, grooves form. Assumptions harden into orthodoxy. Human nature resists relearning, especially when funding, careers, and political narratives are at stake. Once a framework is set, new evidence is often shoehorned to fit rather than allowed to challenge the foundation.

Serpent Mound, in Adams County, Ohio, is far more mysterious than mainstream accounts typically allow. The default narrative attributes it to “Indigenous people,” specifically linking it to the Adena (circa 800 BC–AD 100) or Fort Ancient (AD 1000–1650) cultures, which then folds neatly into broader political claims about “stolen land.” This framing, I believe, serves agendas that seek to undermine America’s founding legitimacy in favor of collectivist remaking—an echo of old European resentments toward the prosperous republic born from the Louisiana Purchase, Florida acquisition, and western expansion. 

Donna’s episode respectfully features archaeologists discussing the site’s astronomical alignments, particularly its alignment with the summer solstice sunset, which was important to Fort Ancient peoples. She highlights how the mound feels profoundly three-dimensional on the ground—coiling serpent body undulating with the terrain—unlike the flattened maps most people see. That experiential quality is key. The site was meant to be walked, felt, and understood in context. 

Serpent Mound itself is the largest known serpent effigy in the world, stretching approximately 1,348 feet in an uncoiling form with a curled tail. It sits atop a plateau within the Serpent Mound crater (also called the Serpent Mound Disturbance), an eroded meteorite impact structure roughly 8 km (5 miles) in diameter (estimates up to 14 km), formed less than 320 million years ago (likely around 300 million years ago).  The builders chose this precise location on the rim of an ancient scar invisible to casual observation. Radiocarbon dating has shifted: earlier assumptions pointed to Adena; a 1991 study suggested Fort Ancient around AD 900–1200; and a 2014 analysis (later corroborated) supports Adena construction around 300 BC, with rebuilding in the Fort Ancient period. Multiple layers of use are evident. 

Why build the world’s largest serpent effigy on the edge of a 300-million-year-old impact crater with sophisticated celestial alignments? The mathematics encoded here—solstice and equinox orientations—suggest knowledge far beyond simple hunting calendars.  I’ve visited the site for decades, often reflecting on these questions while overlooking the Brush Creek Valley. It is one of three key locations I explore in The Politics of Heaven as evidence of non-human technological and spiritual interaction.

The second is Windover in central Florida, near the modern Kennedy Space Center. This ~8,000-year-old Middle Archaic cemetery (roughly 7,000–8,000 years BP) yielded 168 burials in a peat pond, many with remarkably preserved brain tissue, woven textiles of advanced complexity (multiple weaves, including non-heddle loom examples), and deliberate ritual orientation (often flexed, on left side facing west, anchored with stakes).  At the time, sea levels were far lower; the coastline extended miles farther out. Submerged sites likely await discovery. These people practiced sophisticated mortuary rites predating biblical timelines by millennia, challenging simplistic post-Ice Age migration models from Beringia. Their genetics and practices don’t align neatly with those of later tribal groups, opening the door to deeper questions about origins and external influence.

The third is Flag Fen in England, masterfully excavated by Francis Pryor. This Bronze Age site (around 1000 BC, contemporaneous with the First Temple period) features complex timber platforms, votive weapon offerings in wetlands, and evidence of sophisticated beliefs about the afterlife. Pryor’s work—detailed in books like Flag Fen: Life and Death of a Prehistoric Landscape—reveals a ritual landscape of remarkable engineering. 

These sites, alongside markers such as the London Stone, Paris’s origin stone, and Washington, D.C.’s Masonic layout, suggest coordinated knowledge across continents and eras. Native American legends—Iroquois, Shawnee, and Aztec migrations from the north (echoed at Three Rivers Petroglyphs in New Mexico)—feature descending “gods,” giants, and supernatural beings that are remarkably consistent with global mythologies. The uniformity points to real encounters rather than independent invention.

Near my home in the Great Miami River valley (Liberty Township / Middletown area, Ohio), the Middletown Mound and Miamisburg Mound stand as testaments. Miamisburg is one of the largest conical mounds in eastern North America—65 feet high, 800 feet in circumference, built by Adena peoples in stages, containing vast amounts of earth and visible for miles.  My daughter has taken a great interest in the Middletown site. These should be premier attractions, yet NAGPRA and institutional caution limit new excavations. Cultures routinely built atop older complexes—Cahokia, Baalbek, Jerusalem, Christian churches over pagan temples. Why assume otherwise here?

Archaeologists I respect operate under real constraints. Funding flows through institutions influenced by political and financial interests historically at odds with figures like Andrew Jackson. The “Mound Builder” myth was once weaponized for removal policies (Indian Removal Act, 1830), but today continuity narratives sometimes sideline anomalous evidence. I want these professionals to be better funded for open inquiry.

Post-disclosure, the picture sharpens. UAP whistleblower testimony on non-human biologics and reverse-engineering (with local ties to Wright-Patterson) makes ancient interaction plausible. Disclosure Day shifts the Overton window.

This leads to time—interdimensional or ultra-terrestrial beings likely master relativity. Time dilation is a physics fact. Travelers could experience days while centuries pass on Earth. Sites like Serpent Mound may serve as temporal anchors—celestial markers to recalibrate “when” upon return. Mythic “gods” gifting knowledge then vanishing aligns with this. Cryptids fit as echoes.

I’ve visited these regions and studied the works extensively. These inform The Politics of Heaven, my exploration of spiritual warfare, giants/Nephilim, divine rebellion, and humanity’s interactions. Nineteen of twenty-one chapters tackle controversial ground because they prioritize evidence over control narratives.

Donna D’Errico embodies the right spirit. Archaeologists deserve support for deeper digs. The great serpent on its ancient crater is no random effigy. It testifies to encounters with star-faring knowledge-bearers.

We stand at the threshold of new understanding. The dance continues. The serpent watches. Truth uncoils into the light.

Footnotes

¹ Donna D’Errico, Myth Bound YouTube series (episodes on Serpent Mound and related mysteries). 

² Ohio History Connection, Serpent Mound official site details and history. 

³ Wikipedia / scientific sources on Serpent Mound crater: ~8 km diameter, <320 million years old (est. ~300 Ma). 

⁴ Radiocarbon dating summaries: 2014 Adena ~300 BC with Fort Ancient repairs. 

⁵ Astronomical alignments (solstices/equinoxes). 

⁶ Windover site reports: ~8,000 BP burials, textiles, rituals (Glen Doran et al.). 

⁷ Francis Pryor, Flag Fen: Life and Death of a Prehistoric Landscape (2005). 

⁸ Miamisburg Mound: Ohio History Connection / National Register details. 

⁹ Broader context: Graham Hancock, Ross Hamilton (Serpent Mound), UAP disclosures, and Pryor’s Time Team work

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.

My ‘Disclosure Day’ Review: More than just a statement about illegal immigration, MK Ultra, and the Inspiration for ‘The Politics of Heaven’

I have always lived with one foot in the ordinary world, local Ohio politics, family life along the Great Miami River in Butler County, and the other in the deeper currents of history, archaeology, and the unexplained. Growing up in the Cincinnati area, my family in the 1970s was already investigating strange lights in the sky and odd occurrences that didn’t fit neatly into everyday explanations. Those early experiences planted seeds that would later bloom into serious inquiry. I have never claimed to have been abducted or to have lived through anything as dramatic as the portrayal of Travis Walton’s ordeal in Fire in the Sky. My encounters have been subtler, more provocative, and in one memorable case, downright infuriating in their precision and timing. 

One such encounter stands out, not just because of what I saw firsthand in earlier instances, but also because of how it unfolded in response to something I said publicly. A couple of years ago, amid ongoing discussions about government transparency, surveillance, and the lingering shadows of the COVID era, I recorded a video. In it, I dared whatever forces—whether extraterrestrial, interdimensional, or black-budget human technology—might be listening to show themselves right there in my backyard of Butler County, Ohio. I pointed to a specific spot in the sky near Middletown. I wasn’t expecting fireworks or a close encounter of the third kind. I was making a point about power, information, and the dangers of hidden knowledge wielded by institutions that demand trust while offering none in return. 

A short time later—mere days—a ring of bright green lights appeared in the night sky exactly in that vicinity. Multiple residents captured video around 10:30 or 11 p.m. The lights rotated, hovered, then shot off with impossible speed. People stopped at stoplights, pulled out their phones, and filmed what appeared to be a circular formation moving counterclockwise before it vanished. Reports flooded local news: WCPO, WLWT, and others covered the strange rotating green lights over Middletown in Butler County. Witnesses described it as unlike any drone or conventional aircraft. Some called it frightening; others were fascinated. I wasn’t on site that night, but the proximity and timing were unmistakable. 

This wasn’t my first brush with the phenomenon. I had witnessed other UFO activity years earlier, including one that left me genuinely angry at the audacity of it. But this particular event felt targeted. Given my political activity—my role as a vocal conservative voice in Butler County, my history with local issues like Lakota schools, tax fights, and broader America First advocacy—I have long assumed surveillance. Decades ago, in a previous neighborhood in Mason, Ohio, I confronted a drug ring operating too close to families. That brought FBI interviews and scrutiny that carried over for years. Local and federal eyes have been on me, my family, and my work for a very long time. When you dare powers—visible or invisible—to reveal themselves while criticizing government overreach, you invite responses. Whether this was a genuine non-human craft, advanced human technology (perhaps reverse-engineered or projected), or something meant to rattle me, it landed with precision. 

I took it as a message. Not the kind that turns you into Richard Dreyfuss piling dirt in the living room from Close Encounters of the Third Kind, but one that demands deeper reflection. I have visited Roswell. I have investigated the Mothman in Point Pleasant, West Virginia—right across the river from Ohio territory familiar to me. There, UFO sightings were rampant alongside the Mothman reports in the 1960s. John Keel’s The Mothman Prophecies (later a film with Richard Gere) details how lights in the sky, strange calls, and Men in Black phenomena intertwined with the creature sightings leading up to the Silver Bridge collapse. You cannot grapple with Mothman without confronting the UFO dimension. I went there for personal research, on a birthday trip no less, and came away convinced that these events form a pattern far older than modern disclosure narratives. 

Watching Steven Spielberg’s Disclosure Day recently brought it all into sharper focus. Spielberg, who has fielded countless UFO stories from the public over decades while making films like Close Encounters, treats the subject with a humanistic lens. The movie explores ordinary people pushing back against secrecy. I found it compelling, even if some critics dismissed elements. It reminded me of my own journey. Spielberg has no personal UFO encounter, by his account, yet he has shaped public imagination on the topic. I have had them, and they propelled me to write. 

My thoughts also turned to Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Many reviewers scoffed at the interdimensional beings, calling it the weakest entry. I saw sophistication in it. The film uses Indy to explore ancient alien influence on human civilization—archaeologists from another realm, imprints on societies, crystal skulls tied to Roswell-like events and portals. It gave popular culture the moral license to think seriously about these ideas. It opened doors for shows like Ancient Aliens. The Peruvian connections, snakes as symbols (echoing the Garden of Eden), and hidden-in-plain-sight craft at the end resonated. I dedicated a chapter in my book to serpentine imagery and interdimensional influences. 

Broader Context: UFOs in Ohio and Butler County

Ohio has a rich history of sightings. The 1952 “Flatwoods Monster” event in nearby West Virginia involved a bright object and a strange entity. In 1994, Trumbull County saw police-chased lights. Middletown itself has a history of reports, including cigar-shaped objects. The 2023 green lights fit a pattern of rotating formations and rapid departures defying conventional explanation. Some dismissed it as a prank or drone, but the speed and multiple witnesses suggest more. Butler County’s location—near Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, long rumored in UFO lore for reverse-engineering—adds intrigue. Reverse-engineering Roswell tech? Congressional testimony and retired officials hint at it. I know enough insiders to take such claims seriously. 

These aren’t new. Ancient texts, archaeology, and global myths describe sky beings, watchers, and technology influencing humanity. The Book of Enoch, Dead Sea Scrolls (which I viewed at the Museum of the Bible on my birthday), Nephilim, and giants speak to this. My book, The Politics of Heaven, dives into spiritual warfare, divine rebellion, population agendas, and how non-human intelligences have shaped history. Biblical conspiracies, demons, and interdimensional entities aren’t “crazy” when disclosure normalizes the conversation. Spielberg’s film and real events make mainstream what was once fringe. 

Government, Power, and the Politics of Disclosure

I have built my life around self-reliance, discipline (symbolized by my whip iconography from my family’s Kentucky heritage), and skepticism toward centralized power. The UFO debate often serves as a pretext for more government authority: “Trust us to protect you from them.” Yet the same institutions lied about COVID, mandates, elections, and more. Black budgets, compartmentalized programs at places like Wright-Patterson, and associations with supernatural tech-seeking make the government threat more immediate than hypothetical aliens. If entities have visited since civilization’s dawn, then history makes more sense—temples, sacrifices, and beliefs born of observed phenomena. 

My dare and the subsequent sighting felt like a ritual response. Call it out, and it appears. Whether it was a government projection (holographic or drone tech) to discredit me in political circles, actual craft, or something responding to frequency/intent, it happened. Proximity to my pointed location, in an area with patterns (Middletown, Monroe, West Chester), wasn’t a coincidence. It reinforced my view: information is power. Secrecy builds empires on lies. As a grand jury foreman, I saw institutional failures up close. Two-tier justice, surveillance of citizens like me—these are real. 

This encounter, revisited through Disclosure Day, crystallized my decision to finish the manuscript. I weave personal stories, including this one, with biblical archaeology, ancient civilizations (Axum, Britain BC, the Windover Bog People), giants, and modern spiritual warfare. Chapters explore how UFOs, interdimensional beings, and government secrecy intersect with heavenly politics. Reviewers call it wild, but grounded in my experiences and research. It answers questions Disclosure Day raises: What next? What does it mean for faith, power, and humanity? 

Conclusion: Toward Understanding

I stand by my premises. Aliens or their tech have been with us. Government lies pose clearer dangers. My encounter was deliberate, provocative, and inspirational. It led to The Politics of Heaven, a book for those seeking the next layer after disclosure. Look up Middletown UFO reports yourself. Study Keel, Enoch, archaeology. Question power. Live with discipline and curiosity. The sky holds answers, but so does rigorous inquiry into heaven’s politics. 

The modern cultural moment surrounding extraterrestrial disclosure sits at the intersection of fiction, data, belief, and institutional power. What once belonged exclusively to speculative literature and late-night radio has steadily entered mainstream discourse through cinema, congressional hearings, intelligence reports, and public polling. The convergence of these domains—popular storytelling, emerging government transparency, and shifting public opinion—marks not merely a fascination with the unknown, but a broader transition in how societies process uncertainty and authority.

Science fiction has long functioned as a precursor to technological and conceptual breakthroughs. From Jules Verne’s imagined submarines to Star Trek’s communicators, speculative narratives have historically inspired real-world innovation, shaping the ambitions of engineers, scientists, and entrepreneurs 12. This feedback loop between imagination and material progress has created a cultural environment in which ideas once dismissed as fantasy are re-evaluated as plausible futures. The genre’s influence extends beyond gadgets into ethics and social systems, providing frameworks for grappling with artificial intelligence, space exploration, and extraterrestrial life itself 1. In this sense, science fiction does not merely predict the future—it establishes the intellectual conditions that make certain futures conceivable.

The normalization of extraterrestrial discourse is reflected in recent polling data, which reveals a decisive shift in public belief. As of June 2026, approximately 63% of Americans believe intelligent life exists beyond Earth, a substantial increase from fewer than half in 2010 3. Moreover, about 21% of respondents believe direct contact with extraterrestrial life has already occurred 3. These figures illustrate a cultural transformation: belief in extraterrestrial life is no longer marginal but widely accepted. Even more telling is that roughly 84% of Americans believe the federal government knows more about unidentified aerial phenomena than it has disclosed 4. This convergence of belief in extraterrestrials and skepticism toward institutional transparency underscores a broader erosion of trust in official narratives.

Parallel to this shift in public perception, the United States government has released a series of reports on Unidentified Aerial Phenomena (UAP), providing an unprecedented—though limited—window into classified data. The 2021 preliminary assessment reviewed 144 documented cases, many supported by multi-sensor evidence and some exhibiting unusual flight characteristics such as abrupt acceleration and stationary hovering 5. By August 2022, the number of recorded incidents had expanded to 510, reflecting both increased reporting and reduced stigma among military personnel 6. The 2023 and subsequent reports further expanded the dataset to hundreds more cases, with total investigations surpassing 800 and later exceeding 1,600 by 2024, demonstrating a rapidly growing body of observations 75.

Despite this increase in data, a significant proportion of cases remain unresolved. While many sightings are eventually attributed to balloons, drones, or atmospheric phenomena, a persistent subset defies easy classification. Notably, no confirmed extraterrestrial origin has been established in these official reports, yet the continued presence of unexplained cases sustains public speculation 5. The reports emphasize aviation safety concerns and the need for improved data collection, framing UAP primarily as a defense and intelligence issue rather than a confirmation of alien technology 7. Nevertheless, the mere acknowledgment of unexplained aerial phenomena by government institutions has legitimized a topic long relegated to the fringes.

The cultural impact of this gradual disclosure cannot be separated from the role of media, particularly large-scale cinematic releases that translate complex or controversial ideas into accessible narratives. Films centered on extraterrestrial contact often serve as intermediaries between classified knowledge and public imagination, offering emotional and philosophical interpretations of what scientific reports leave unresolved. These narratives tend to humanize the unknown, framing extraterrestrial encounters in terms of curiosity, conflict, or moral testing. In doing so, they provide audiences with conceptual tools to process information that might otherwise provoke skepticism or fear.

At the same time, the enduring appeal of theories regarding ancient extraterrestrial influence demonstrates the persistence of alternative explanatory frameworks. The so-called “ancient aliens” hypothesis suggests that extraterrestrial beings contributed to early human civilizations, influencing architecture, religion, and technological development. While this theory remains popular in media and literature, it is widely regarded by professional archaeologists as pseudoarchaeology, often criticized for ignoring contextual evidence and substituting speculation for rigorous analysis 89. Scholars argue that such theories can undermine appreciation for human ingenuity by attributing historical achievements to non-human actors. Yet their popularity reflects a deeper cultural impulse: the desire to locate external origins for complex systems and unexplained accomplishments.

This impulse extends into modern interpretations of government secrecy and psychological control. Among the most controversial historical programs associated with these concerns is Project MK-Ultra, a covert CIA initiative conducted between 1953 and the mid-1960s. The program involved extensive experimentation with drugs, hypnosis, and sensory manipulation in an attempt to develop methods of controlling human behavior 10. Many of these experiments were conducted without informed consent, leading to lasting ethical and legal controversies when the program was exposed in the 1970s 11. MK-Ultra’s documented abuses have contributed to a broader skepticism toward intelligence agencies, reinforcing narratives in which governments possess capabilities that remain hidden from public scrutiny.

The persistence of such ideas reflects the influence of narrative storytelling, which often amplifies real-world events into more dramatic or comprehensive systems of control. This blending of fact and fiction can complicate efforts to establish a shared understanding of what is known, unknown, and unknowable.

Within this landscape, the concept of “disclosure” operates as both a political and psychological threshold. It represents not only the potential revelation of classified information but also the collective readiness of society to integrate disruptive knowledge. Historical precedents suggest that transformative discoveries—whether heliocentrism, evolution, or nuclear technology—require gradual assimilation. Sudden exposure to paradigm-shifting ideas can provoke resistance, denial, or reinterpretation within existing belief systems. Consequently, any process of disclosure, whether regarding extraterrestrial life or advanced technology, is likely to unfold incrementally, mediated by cultural narratives and institutional frameworks.

Religious perspectives add another dimension to this process. The possibility of extraterrestrial intelligence raises fundamental questions about humanity’s place in the universe, challenging anthropocentric interpretations of creation and divine purpose. Yet many theological traditions possess conceptual flexibility, allowing for the existence of life beyond Earth without negating core doctrines. The idea of a universe governed by a singular creator is not inherently incompatible with multiple inhabited worlds. Rather than undermining faith, the discovery of extraterrestrial life could expand the scope of theological inquiry, prompting reconsideration of divine agency and cosmic order.

Public reaction to such possibilities appears increasingly nuanced. Polling data indicates that a majority of Americans would respond to extraterrestrial contact with curiosity rather than fear, though a significant proportion also anticipates anxiety 3. This duality reflects the tension between fascination and uncertainty that characterizes human engagement with the unknown. Cultural conditioning through decades of science fiction has arguably prepared audiences for the idea of extraterrestrial life, normalizing it to a degree unimaginable in earlier generations.

At the same time, political framing continues to shape interpretations of disclosure. Debates over transparency, national security, and governmental authority influence how information is released and received. Bipartisan interest in UAP investigations suggests that the issue transcends traditional ideological divides, yet its implications can be mobilized within broader narratives about governance, sovereignty, and public trust. The question of who controls knowledge—and who decides when it is revealed—remains central to the discourse.

The interplay between science fiction, empirical data, and cultural belief ultimately reveals a society in transition. As technological capabilities expand and information becomes more accessible, distinctions between speculation and reality grow increasingly porous. Ideas once confined to fiction are reexamined through the lens of possibility, while scientific findings are interpreted within preexisting narrative frameworks. This dynamic creates both opportunities and challenges: opportunities for expanded knowledge and imaginative exploration, and challenges in maintaining epistemic clarity.

Future developments in astronomy, planetary science, and space exploration may provide more definitive answers regarding extraterrestrial life. Missions to Mars, Europa, and other celestial bodies aim to detect biosignatures or evidence of past life, potentially transforming speculation into empirical reality. At the same time, continued analysis of UAP data may resolve many currently unexplained cases, narrowing the gap between observation and explanation. Whether these processes culminate in confirmation of extraterrestrial intelligence remains uncertain, but their trajectory is unmistakable.

In this context, disclosure is less a singular event than an ongoing process—a gradual unfolding shaped by technological progress, institutional decisions, and cultural interpretation. The convergence of widespread belief, partial governmental transparency, and influential storytelling suggests that society is moving toward a new equilibrium in its understanding of the cosmos. This transformation is not driven solely by evidence but by the narratives constructed around that evidence, which determine how it is perceived, debated, and ultimately integrated into collective knowledge.

The enduring power of science fiction lies in its ability to anticipate and normalize the unfamiliar. By envisioning encounters with the unknown, it prepares audiences to confront them, bridging the gap between imagination and reality. As the boundaries of knowledge continue to expand, this role becomes increasingly significant, guiding public discourse through uncharted intellectual territory. In the evolving dialogue surrounding extraterrestrial life and government disclosure, fiction and fact are not opposing forces but complementary elements in a broader cultural process—one that continues to redefine humanity’s place in an ever-expanding universe.  And with all that said, the movie, Disclosure Day, is a fantastic movie everyone should see.  It’s important.

—

Footnotes

[1] Data on public belief in extraterrestrial life: 3

[2] Public perception of government secrecy on UFOs: 4

[3] 2021 UAP preliminary report findings: 5

[4] 2022 UAP report total cases (510): 6

[5] Expansion of UAP reports through 2023–2024 (800+ to 1600+ cases): 75

[6] Science fiction influence on technological innovation: 12

[7] Archaeological criticism of ancient aliens theory: 89

[8] MK-Ultra program overview and methods: 10

[9] MK-Ultra experimentation and exposure: 11

Bibliography (Selected; expanded in full manuscript with footnotes)

•  Keel, John A. The Mothman Prophecies. 1975. (Core text on Point Pleasant events, UFOs, and interconnected phenomena.)

•  Spielberg, Steven, dir. Disclosure Day. Universal Pictures, 2026. (Film exploring disclosure and government secrecy.)

•  Spielberg, Steven, dir. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Paramount, 2008. (Interdimensional beings and ancient influences.)

•  Biblical Archaeology Review (various issues; lifelong reading source).

•  NUFORC and local news reports on Ohio/Middletown sightings (WCPO, WLWT, 2023).

•  Enoch, Book of (Dead Sea Scrolls context).

•  Additional sources: Clark, Jerome. UFO encyclopedias; reports on Wright-Patterson; ancient-astronaut theories grounded in archaeology (e.g., Peruvian sites, crystal-skulls lore); congressional UAP testimony. 

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 Echoes of Ancient Fires: Human Sacrifice, Modern Idolatry, and the Fall from Solomon’s Legacy

I stood outside Mustang Sally’s in the Liberty Center shopping complex (now closed), my neighborhood in Liberty Township, minding my own business in my cowboy hat and the way I’ve dressed for decades in Butler County, when a couple approached me. They had moved from the East Coast, via New Hampshire, to our area with certain expectations. They weren’t happy. Their comments made it clear they wanted to reshape this place into something more like where they came from. My response was direct: You moved into my backyard and brought your garbage with you, expecting the region to bend to your liking. You left a place you helped mess up, and now you want to import the same problems here. You don’t like the Bible belts, the cowboy hats, or the people who still go to church on Sundays with Christian origins. Do you really expect to show up and change everything overnight? 

That encounter lingered with me, not because it was unique—I get recognized from my videos, blog, and activism against the Lakota levies—but because it tied directly into the themes I’ve been exploring in my book The Politics of Heaven. Human sacrifice has always been a recurring temptation for humanity, a way to appease false gods in pursuit of power, prosperity, or protection. This came sharply into focus during graduation season, the rituals in which parents parade their children as offerings to the modern altars of secular success. I’m not particularly fond of these ceremonies; too often, they reveal parents who have done a poor job raising resilient children in a world that demands conformity to destructive ideologies. To understand this, we must go back to the Bible, to the days after King Solomon, when the seeds of betrayal bore bitter fruit. 

King Solomon, for all his wisdom and the glory of the First Temple, failed spectacularly. He had hundreds of wives and concubines from foreign nations, each bringing their gods—Ashtoreth, Molech, Chemosh—and he built high places for them. Yahweh, the God of his father David, was provoked to anger. The kingdom would be torn apart after his death, and his descendants would inherit the consequences. Fast-forward roughly 200 years to the reign of Ahaz, king of Judah, a direct descendant of that troubled line. Second Chronicles 28:3 tells us plainly: “He burned sacrifices in the Valley of Ben Hinnom and sacrificed his children in the fire, engaging in the detestable practices of the nations the Lord had driven out before the Israelites.” 

This wasn’t a minor slip. Ahaz walked in the ways of the kings of Israel, making molded images for the Baals. He sacrificed and burned incense on high places, hills, and under every green tree. In his distress, he grew more unfaithful, turning to the gods of Damascus that had defeated him, reasoning that if they helped his enemies, they might help him. He shut the doors of the Temple in Jerusalem and set up altars everywhere. The Chronicler emphasizes the depth of this apostasy: Ahaz burned his sons—plural—in the fire according to the abominations of the nations Yahweh had cast out. This was Molech worship, the fiery offering of children in the Tophet of the Hinnom Valley, later called Gehenna, a place of judgment. 

Archaeology confirms the horror. Sites across the ancient Near East, from Canaanite high places at Gezer with infant bones in jars beneath standing stones, to the vast Tophets of Carthage (a Phoenician colony with Canaanite roots), reveal urns filled with burned child remains, often dedicated to Baal-Hammon or Tanit. Estimates suggest thousands of such sacrifices over centuries. Classical writers like Diodorus Siculus described bronze statues where children were placed and rolled into flames, with drums beating to drown out the screams so parents wouldn’t relent. The Bible’s condemnation in Leviticus 18:21, Deuteronomy 12:31, Jeremiah 7:31, and elsewhere aligns with this evidence. Yahweh had driven out the Canaanites precisely because of these practices—the land “vomited them out.” Yet Israel repeatedly fell into the same pit. 

In the time of Ahaz, about two centuries after Solomon’s peak, the First Temple still stood, a visible reminder of David’s purchase of the threshing floor and the covenant. Yet Judah’s king, with all the advantages of that heritage, chose Molech over Yahweh. He sacrificed his own children—flesh and blood—to secure political advantage, rain, victory, or prosperity. The priests beat drums to mask the cries. This wasn’t abstract theology; it was a direct betrayal of the God who demanded justice, not the blood of innocents. Ezekiel and Jeremiah later railed against similar abominations in the Valley of Hinnom, where people built high places to Baal and burned sons and daughters. 

I see the same pattern today in what I call the “Lego moms”—those levy supporters with their uniform, block-like conformity, who confront people like me for wearing a cowboy hat or standing against higher property taxes for public schools. They move here from places they’ve ruined, expecting Butler County’s Bible-belt roots to yield. At graduation ceremonies, they beam with pride as their children are sent off to woke institutions, sacrificing them on the altars of liberal causes, corporate conformity, pronouns, and careerism. “Where’s your kid going to school?” they ask, as if the choice of secular university is a burnt offering for future success. These parents, often in their 40s and 50s, resent the very children who “hold them back,” trading family for social approval and hedge-fund portfolios. 

This is modern child sacrifice, not with literal flames but with the slow burn of indoctrination. Abortion, too, fits the pattern—millions offered up for convenience, autonomy, or economic “luck.” Democrats and progressives advocate policies that treat children as obstacles to personal fulfillment. Just as Ahaz hoped Molech would deliver victory, today’s secularists sacrifice the next generation to the gods of climate alarmism, gender ideology, and big government. Public schools become free babysitting services funded by property taxes, turning children into wards of the state while parents pursue careers. I’ve said it before: many parents don’t love their children more than Ahaz loved his. They send pretty little girls and boys to the “meat market” of liberal campuses, where they learn to hate their heritage and conform or perish. 

My own experiences in the 1990s living on UC’s campus during the Clinton years showed the early creep of this. It wasn’t as extreme then, but the trajectory was clear. Now, it’s full-blown. These Lego types despise the Bible because it judges them. Second Chronicles 28 provides the reference point for righteous anger against such evil. Yahweh condemned it because He values life, covenant, and moral order—not the appeasement of demons through innocent blood. The prophets tied this to spiritual adultery, just as Solomon’s foreign wives led him astray. 

Expanding on the biblical context, the temptation was immense. Before the full revelation of the Torah as we know it, the ancient Near East teemed with gods. Baal, the storm god, demanded loyalty through fertility rites and sometimes blood. Molech (or Milcom of the Ammonites) was particularly associated with child sacrifice for protection or prosperity. Kings like Ahaz, facing military threats from Aram and Israel, panicked and offered what was most precious—their offspring. This mirrored practices among the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, and even farther afield. In the Americas, the Mississippian culture at Cahokia, near modern St. Louis, featured massive earthen pyramids and evidence of ritual sacrifice, including dozens of young women buried with elites in Mound 72. Aztec, Maya, and other indigenous groups practiced heart extraction and other offerings on a grand scale. Trade networks may have linked these ideas across continents. My old screenplay, The Lost Cannibals of Cahokia, explored this, drawing on real archaeology of the mounds that rivaled European cities in scale. 

Native American cultures, often romanticized today, shared these ritual elements—burials with retainers, possible foundation sacrifices. The Bible’s command to conquer Canaan wasn’t arbitrary; it targeted a society steeped in such evil to prevent its spread. Yet Israel’s failure shows how seductive it is. Even after the Temple’s destruction and exile, echoes persisted. In the Middle Ages, burnings at the stake during the Reformation carried ritualistic overtones, sometimes tied to power struggles between kings and popes, much like Solomon’s wives influencing policy. Thomas More’s execution comes to mind—resistance to the new order met with fiery judgment. 

In our time, the drums still beat to drown dissent. Media, academia, and government celebrate “Pride” and “choice” while parents cheer their children’s transition or ideological capture. The same people who sneer at Bible-thumpers and cowboy hats push levies that raise taxes for more indoctrination. They moved to Ohio’s suburbs expecting to import coastal progressivism, then get angry when locals resist. I despise this weakness. As I’ve written in The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, true strength comes from imposing will on chaos with discipline, not sacrificing the future for short-term gains. Trump’s approach with his own children—high standards, no nonsense—contrasts sharply with the sacrificial failures of figures like Hunter Biden or the ideological offspring of elite Democrats. 

The spiritual warfare is clear. The Politics of Heaven delves into Nephilim, divine rebellion, and how ancient conspiracies echo today. Population agendas, occult influences in media—from 1950s family themes to later hedonism and Crowley-inspired chaos—all serve the same anti-human forces. Graduation ceremonies become pageants of pride in sacrifice: “Aren’t you proud? We’re sending ours to the best (woke) schools.” Meanwhile, resilient families teaching morality, history, and faith get labeled anti-child for wanting better. 

Archaeological and historical studies reinforce the Bible. Excavations at Gezer, Carthage’s Tophet (with up to 20,000 urns), and biblical sites show burned infant remains tied to vows for divine favor. Scholars like Patricia Smith analyzed teeth to confirm age and ritual context. The practice wasn’t rare or exaggerated propaganda; it was systemic until reformers like Josiah purged the Tophet. Yet it recurs because humans crave control over the unknown through blood offerings. 

I’ve confronted these dynamics locally in Butler County—in Lakota schools, commissioner races, and tax fights. The Lego levy supporters embody the spirit of Ahaz: willing to burn the next generation for perceived advantage. They resent traditional symbols because they expose the guilt. The Bible offers judgment and hope. Hezekiah, Ahaz’s son, reversed much of the damage, reopening the Temple. Repentance is possible, but it requires rejecting the false gods. 

Footnotes

1.  2 Chronicles 28:3 (NIV).

2.  Commentary on Ahaz’s reign, Enduring Word Bible Commentary.

3.  Archaeological reports on Canaanite Tophets, Biblical Archaeology Review.

4.  Diodorus Siculus on Carthaginian practices.

5.  Excavations at Cahokia Mounds, National Park Service, and related studies.

6.  Leviticus 18:21; Deuteronomy 12:31.

7.  Jeremiah 7:31; 32:35.

8.  Personal reflections on local politics and graduations in Butler County, Ohio.

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

10.  Studies on Molech worship by John Day and others.

Bibliography

•  The Holy Bible, New International Version.

•  Dearman, J. Andrew. “The Tophet in Jerusalem.” Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages.

•  Heider, George C. The Cult of Molek. JSOT Supplement Series.

•  Smith, Patricia. “Infants Sacrificed? The Tale Teeth Tell.” Biblical Archaeology Review.

•  Stager, Lawrence E., and Samuel R. Wolff. “Child Sacrifice at Carthage.” Biblical Archaeology Review.

•  Tatlock, Jason. Child Sacrifice in the Ancient Near and Middle East. Oxford University Press.

•  Various archaeological reports on Gezer, Carthage, and Cahokia.

•  Hoffman, Rich. The Politics of Heaven (manuscript) and blog/podcast archives.

•  Additional sources from Biblical Archaeology Review, ASOR publications, and historical texts on Phoenician and Mississippian cultures.

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 Personal Cost of Putting Your Name on What You Believe

I’ve spent a good portion of my life learning that once you step into the arena and attach your name to a cause—especially one that challenges the comfortable consensus—there is no clean exit. The fight doesn’t end when the election is over or the levy fails. It follows you. It lingers in the background of every new opportunity, every conversation with agents or publishers, every attempt to build something larger than the immediate battle. People ask me why I keep doing it, why I take the hits, why I don’t just pivot to safer topics that corporate gatekeepers find more palatable. The honest answer is that I never figured out how to look at myself in the mirror, knowing I had walked away from what was right to make life easier. And the longer I’ve stayed in this game, the more I’ve seen how that very decision—to speak plainly and sign my name to it—becomes a lifelong tax on everything else I try to do.

Take the book I’m working on now, The Politics of Heaven. It’s a serious work, the kind that walks through biblical history, spiritual warfare, giants, ancient conspiracies, divine rebellion, and the population agendas that echo across time. I see it as mainstream in ambition—something that could sit on the front tables at Barnes & Noble alongside the big New York releases. Top-level readers who’ve seen the manuscript are excited. They tell me it has that weight. But then the conversation turns, as it always does. “You have some really strong opinions,” they say. “You’re in Ohio, very Republican, very MAGA, very Trump.” The subtext is clear: that baggage makes the project riskier in their world. It’s the same script I heard in 2012 when Tail of the Dragon came out. The book was ready; Hollywood producers were circling; relationships I had built over years in the industry were lining up interviews and options; and then the school board wars detonated everything.

Back then, Lakota was pushing its third levy attempt. I had already poured myself into fighting the first two. I went on WLW radio in Cincinnati multiple times a week, debated on air, did television hits, and wrote pieces that got national pickup in education circles. I called things exactly as I saw them. One line that still follows me everywhere was about the “latte-sipping prostitutes with asses the size of car tires and diamond rings to match.” It was raw, it was honest, and it captured the disconnect between the comfortable insiders pushing tax increases and the families getting squeezed. That phrase became a rallying cry for many people tired of the same old levy machine, but it also painted a target on my back. The corporate media, the teachers’ union allies, the local establishment—they treated it like a declaration of war. And in many ways it was. What followed was an early version of the cancel culture and personal destruction playbook that later got refined against Trump and anyone else who wouldn’t bend the knee.

They went after my reputation, my associations, my ability to make a living outside the fight. WLW started feeling pressure. Hosts and producers who had me on regularly faced heat. Some got demoted, some moved to worse slots, some disappeared from the rotation. The Cincinnati Enquirer and its allies ran over-the-top hit pieces. Corporate types listened to the complaints and quietly distanced themselves. Friends I thought were solid partners in the broader movement pulled away fast when the personal cost rose. It was brutal. I watched people I had stood shoulder to shoulder with suddenly find reasons to create distance. The playbook was clear: isolate the loudest voice, make the price of association too high, and watch the support evaporate. It was personal destruction sold as politics, and it worked on many people. But I kept going. I still helped organize, still spoke out, still put my name on it even when the professional repercussions mounted.

The timing couldn’t have been worse for Tail of the Dragon. The book was built on my deep love of the Smoky Mountains, the Tail of the Dragon road itself, and the culture of freedom and self-reliance it represented. I had spent years building Hollywood contacts precisely so I could get that story out wider. Producers were interested. There was talk of it becoming the next big action-adventure property in the vein of the Fast and the Furious franchise, which was dominating at the time. I had relationships with directors, big-name talent, people who could option material and move it forward. Zuri Hall interviewed me for a television segment promoting the book. She was excellent—sharp, professional—and that clip still holds up more than a decade later. From there, she went on to Access Hollywood, where she covered major projects like The Mandalorian, interviewing Steven Spielberg, John Favreau, Pedro Pascal, and others. Seeing her recently doing disclosure-related interviews brought it all back. That was the kind of platform I was building in 2012, and it was working—until the school levy fight made me radioactive to the very people I needed for the book’s success.

I lost money. I lost momentum. Opportunities that were lining up dried up almost overnight. The same networks that had been friendly suddenly found reasons to pass. The blocklisting was real. Google’s algorithm, YouTube recommendations, social media reach—all of it seemed tuned against anyone who wouldn’t play the game. I’ve been called the “algorithm king” in some circles because I built the Overmanwarrior handle in a way that bypasses some of it—if you search for it, you find me—but that took years of fighting uphill. The platforming, the shadow-banning, the quiet corporate decisions to sideline voices—it was all there in 2012, well before it became a national conversation during Trump’s rise. And I felt it personally. I had cashed in media chips I had built over years of honest work, only to see them spent defending a local school district from another tax grab. The people who benefited from those fights—the families who kept their money, the taxpayers who got a breather—rarely understood the full cost to the guy whose name was out front.

That’s the part most people miss. Once you put your name on it, the fight never really ends. Levies get defeated, but the machine keeps grinding. In 2013, another attempt came, and we fought it again. By then, some of the RINOs who had gone along with the earlier efforts had learned, or at least pretended to learn. We later stood together on other issues. But the personal toll lingered. I remember sitting in an office with one of the key organizers—a good friend, a successful person—around Christmas 2012 after the second levy fight. Snow was falling. He looked at me and asked, in essence, how many more of these I had in me. Could someone else step up as the public face? Could I hand off the platform I had built to promote my book and chase the Hollywood opportunities that were slipping away? The answer, unfortunately, was no. Nobody else wanted to take the heat. The same dynamic plays out everywhere good people stay silent: the fear of being labeled, blocked, or professionally damaged keeps them on the sidelines. So I stayed in it. I kept speaking. I kept signing my name—Rich Hoffman—at the bottom of every piece.

And I paid for it. Millions of dollars in potential earnings walked away because I wouldn’t bend. I’ve had opportunities at the top of the entertainment pyramid that most people would kill for. I’ve sat in catering tents with A-list talent, producers, and executives during projects where big checks were being written. I warned people early about what Facebook was doing—how they were paying influencers to migrate audiences from MySpace, collecting data, building a machine that would later be weaponized for censorship. I saw it firsthand in 2008-era Hollywood events. But when it came time to choose between protecting my community from endless tax increases and chasing the next big Hollywood deal, I chose the community. I chose truth as a weapon. I said what needed to be said, even when it hurt feelings, even when it cost alliances, even when it made me the villain in the corporate media narrative. That “latte-sipping prostitute” line earned me political credibility that has helped in Butler County and across Ohio for years, but it also became a permanent asterisk next to my name in certain circles.

People who weren’t there like to lecture me now about being a sellout, a Rhino, too close to establishment Republicans, too supportive of Israel or the military, whatever the current purity test requires. They have no idea. They weren’t in the room when the pressure was applied. They didn’t watch producers and agents pull back because a local Ohio writer had “strong opinions.” They didn’t see the friends who ran away when the media heat got too high. A few people stood by me when it counted—prominent politicians on the rise at the time, folks in the Overman Warrior’s network who met behind the scenes and didn’t flinch. I remember them. I don’t forget loyalty in hard times. But they were the exception. Most ran for cover. That’s human nature when the machine turns its focus on you. And the machine never forgets either. It’s why the same tactics that were used on me in 2012 got perfected later against Trump, against parents at school boards, against anyone who challenges the narrative.

I’ve thought a lot about why this happens. Part of it is spiritual. I see these battles through the lens of The Politics of Heaven—the same forces of control, deception, and spiritual warfare that have played out across history. The grind is designed to wear you down so that good people self-censor. Why risk your career, your book deals, your family’s stability when staying quiet is so much easier? I understand the temptation. I’ve felt the exhaustion after more than a dozen years of this. But I also know that once you compromise on the small things, the big things become impossible to defend. I’ve watched public education fights, tax fights, cultural fights. The levies at Lakota haven’t passed another big one since we stood firm, but the pressure never went away. The same two-tier systems, the same institutional failures I saw up close as a Butler County grand jury foreman, the same media manipulation—it all continues. And every time I try to launch something new—like this book, which could reach a much wider audience—the old fights are dragged out again as reasons to hesitate.

The personal destruction element is what stays with me most. It wasn’t just politics. It was an attempt to destroy my ability to operate in the world I had built. I will never forgive the people who orchestrated that, particularly elements tied to the local paper and the broader machine that amplified it. Trump talks about never forgetting those who came after him, and I feel the same way. Once the shot is taken, it can’t be taken back. But here’s what I also know: living bigger than the attacks helps. I’ve built a life and a body of work that stands on its own. I’ve raised a family, worked in aerospace at executive levels, traveled with my wife to NASA, Blue Origin, SpaceX, the Museum of the Bible, and Gettysburg. I launch model rockets with my grandson in the rain and teach him resilience. I write thousands of words in the evenings after long days because the ideas matter more than the comfort of silence. And I still put my name—Rich Hoffman—on everything.

That’s the trade-off. You cash in chips of influence to fight for what’s right, and you hope the broader impact outweighs the personal cost. In the Lakota fights, we gave many people a blueprint for resisting tax increases. My platform helped teach others how to fight. The “latte” line became a cultural touchstone in local politics. Influence built there has carried into other Butler County races, school issues, and beyond. But every new project carries a shadow. Agents and publishers for The Politics of Heaven want sample interviews, and I can point to strong ones—like the Zuri Hall segment—but the first thing they see is the conservative, Trump-aligned, outspoken record. It scares some of them. That’s the cost. I could soften the edges, distance myself from past fights, chase the New York Times centerpiece dream without the baggage. But that would betray everything I’ve stood for. I won’t do it.

I’ve given up millions in potential earnings over the years to look in the mirror and know I fought honestly. I turned away from magnificent opportunities in entertainment because ethics mattered more. I walked away from gigs that would have been life-changing financially because I wouldn’t lend my name or credibility to things I knew were wrong. And I’d do it again. The fighters who step up never get to hand off the baton cleanly. The battles linger because the underlying problems—government overreach, cultural decay, spiritual forces at work—don’t go away. They adapt. They wait for new levies, new mandates, new cultural pressures. Good people who could speak get ground down by the personal price until they stay quiet. That’s how the system maintains control.

When people write me now and accuse me of being part of the problem because I support certain policies or work with imperfect allies, I shake my head. They have no idea what it costs to stay in the fight for sixteen years and counting. They weren’t there when the media was hammering me daily, when radio doors closed, when Hollywood interest evaporated. They don’t see the family time traded, the book sales impacted, the quiet blacklisting that still affects reach. But I can live with it. I have integrity intact. I have authority that comes from having skin in the game. And I have the satisfaction of knowing that when I sign my name to something, it means something because I’ve paid the price for it.

The Politics of Heaven will come out one way or another. It may not get the easy mainstream rollout some books enjoy, but it will reach the people who need it. I’ll keep doing the interviews, building the platform, speaking plainly. I’ll keep putting my name next to the truth even when it costs. Because in the end, that’s what separates those who merely complain from those who actually stand. The grind is real. The personal destruction is real. The lingering shadow of old fights is real. But so is the reward of looking back and knowing you never sold out. I sleep fine at night. I look my grandchildren in the eye and teach them to do the same. And I’ll keep writing, keep fighting, keep signing Rich Hoffman to every word.

That’s the cost. And I’d pay it again.  And in many ways, I still am.

1.  Personal observations from the 2012 media cycle and subsequent blocklisting patterns, cross-referenced with broader studies on algorithmic suppression post-2010.

2.  Accounts of WLW programming shifts and local Cincinnati media coverage during Lakota levy campaigns.

Bibliography (selective for depth):

•  Hoffman, Rich. Tail of the Dragon. (early editions, 2012).

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

•  Various Biblical Archaeology Review archives (lifelong reading).

•  Ohio education policy documents on property tax levies, Butler County records.

•  Studies on social media platform migration and data practices circa 2008-2012.

•  Trump-era documentation of similar personal destruction tactics for pattern comparison.

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.

Disclosure, Power, and The City of God: Proof of ancient giants and our interactions with many alien species over vast spans of time.  Yes, over a billion people have interacted with the Government Disclosure Website

I have been talking about this for decades, going back to that fourth-grade speech on a big elementary school stage where I stood up and laid out everything I had read about UFOs and alien interactions with humanity. Most people thought I was crazy then, and even now, some look at me sideways when I bring it up. But the pattern has always been obvious to me: this is not merely about little green men or flying saucers in the sky. It is about raw power, control, and the systematic erasure of previous knowledge so that whatever new regime is in charge—whether a government administration, a corporate takeover, or a stepfather moving into a broken home—can claim to be the first and only legitimate authority. 

I just finished my book The Politics of Heaven, which dives deep into this exact dynamic. The core argument is simple yet profound: advanced non-human intelligences have visited and interacted with Earth for millions of years. These beings, equipped with their own political orders and technologies that let them cross vast interstellar distances, have traded knowledge, labor, resources, and sometimes genetic material with human civilizations. Yet throughout history, those who seek to rule over us have worked tirelessly to suppress this reality. They do not want the public remembering “Larry”—the previous husband, the prior administration, the older gods or visitors—because acknowledging the past undermines their exclusive claim to power. 

Think about the stepfather who enters a home after a divorce. It is never enough that he is now in the same bedroom with the mother that the kids once saw their real dad occupy. He changes the pictures on the walls, replaces the furniture, and hauls Dad’s Craftsman tools out of the garage to sell at a flea market. He forbids the children from talking about the old life. This is exactly how new regimes operate. A new CEO wipes away the legacy of the previous leader. A new administration erases the records and narratives of those who came before. Ancient priesthoods burned libraries and rewrote myths. Modern institutions discourage digging too deeply into American mounds, pyramids, or out-of-place artifacts because they want everyone focused on the current story—that their administration is the only one that has ever truly existed. 

That is why the current disclosure wave feels so validating to me. In February 2026, President Trump directed federal agencies to begin declassifying evidence related to non-human intelligence through the Presidential Unsealing and Reporting System for UAP Encounters (PURSUE). There has been predictable pushback, but the information is flowing. The Pentagon has released multiple tranches of files, videos, and documents. The dedicated site has already surpassed one billion views worldwide. Jesse Watters on Fox News has covered it in primetime, featuring insiders like Dan Farah and Dr. Hal Puthoff discussing recovered non-human biologics. This is no longer fringe Coast to Coast AM territory. It is corporate media at 8 o’clock, talking seriously about four distinct alien species. 

I have shared my book with top-level people who initially reacted with surprise—“You’re a serious person; what are you talking about?”—but the evidence has always been there for those willing to look past the stigma. For years, reading these accounts sounded “kooky” to many. Who believes in such things? Yet the pattern holds: these species have been interacting with civilizations for as long as humans have kept records. They appear in literature and myth under different names, but the core descriptions remain consistent. Now the conversation has shifted. People are no longer universally mocked for discussing it. There is a massive public hunger, which is why the disclosure site has drawn over a billion visitors.  For some reason, that figure is controversial.  As if people think it’s inflated. It comes straight off the website. 

The four species that insiders and scientists have reported from crash retrieval programs stand out clearly. These are not my inventions; they come from credible figures with government and intelligence backgrounds. All are described as basically humanoid—two arms, two legs—but distinctly different in appearance and likely origin. 

The Greys, often associated with the classic Roswell imagery, are typically three to four feet tall, with grey skin, large, hairless heads, oversized black, almond-shaped eyes, and minimal facial features. They have three or four fingers and are frequently linked to abduction accounts. Many connect them to the 1947 Roswell/Corona crash in New Mexico, where debris and bodies were reportedly recovered and studied. 

The Nordics appear most human-like—tall, often six to seven feet, with fair skin, blond or light hair, and blue eyes, resembling Northern Europeans or Scandinavians. They come across as more diplomatic or benevolent in contactee reports. Their appearance may be designed to facilitate easier interaction with humans. 

Reptilians, sometimes called reptiloids, are taller (six to eight feet), with scaly skin, occasional tails, and lizard-like features while maintaining an upright posture. They echo ancient serpent gods and dragon myths found in cultures worldwide. Some accounts suggest long-term influence on Earth’s power structures or underground bases. 

Insectoids, or Mantids, resemble praying mantises in humanoid form: tall and thin, with large compound eyes, exoskeleton-like skin, and insectoid limbs. They often appear in high-strangeness cases as scientists or overseers. Their form can be unsettling to humans, yet they share the bipedal structure common to these visitors. 

Insiders such as Dr. Hal Puthoff and Eric Davis have cited these four based on crash-retrieval data. Dozens of crafts and associated biologics have reportedly been recovered over the decades. The technology pulled from these sites—advanced materials, propulsion systems, and electronics—appears to have been reverse-engineered and seeded into our society, especially after 1947. Many breakthroughs in the modern era seem to have come from nowhere. This fits the long pattern of trade: humans offering labor, resources, or scientific materials in exchange for knowledge such as metallurgy, agriculture, or tool-making. 

This interaction did not begin in the 20th century. Archaeological evidence and historical records point to contact stretching back millions of years, though mainstream institutions resist this because it challenges established narratives like strict Darwinian timelines and human isolation. The Smithsonian’s historical role in diffusionist debates, its reluctance to fully explore certain American earthworks, and its preference for conventional explanations all align with the pattern of erasure. Pyramids, megaliths, and sudden technological leaps worldwide strain the idea that we developed in total solitude. 

Roswell remains the most publicized crash, but it is one of many. Whistleblowers like David Grusch have testified to non-human biologics from multiple retrieval programs. Ancient texts describe “gods” descending in fiery vehicles—Vimanas in Indian epics, Ezekiel’s wheels, Sumerian Anunnaki. When you strip away cultural filters, these accounts parallel modern descriptions. 

In The Politics of Heaven, I connect these threads to biblical and mythological narratives. The Witch of Endor summoning spirits for Saul, rituals seeking divine or extraterrestrial knowledge, rival gods like Baal versus Yahweh—these reflect competing political orders among visitors. Paradise Lost and concepts of devils may describe advanced beings of non-Christian origin who make strategic deals. Occult practices, star alignments, and telepathic communication appear to have enabled contact for millennia. Some interpret these entities as demons; others see them as neutral actors pursuing their own galactic agendas. The truth is likely a complex mix. 

The resistance to full disclosure makes perfect sense through the lens of power. Governments secure massive black budgets by promising protection from threats they cannot entirely control, often opting instead for deals. Whistleblowers are chastised, just as Medicaid fraud exposers in Ohio face backlash—the real scam becomes punishing those who speak. New regimes say, “Forget the old leadership. Listen only to us.” They change the narrative, remove the old photos, and sell the tools. Authority figures do not want the public to realize that humanity’s story has always involved these external influences. It diminishes their claim to being the ultimate parent or protector. 

Yet the information is now unstoppable. Trump’s PURSUE releases, persistent researchers, congressional interest, and public demand ensure it. Steven Spielberg’s upcoming film Disclosure Day, set for release on June 12, 2026, will further mainstream the conversation. I am enjoying this moment immensely. I have been right about the power dynamics since that fourth-grade speech. These species have their own political structures. They make deals for what they need from humanity. We have traded and interacted across time. The veil is lifting, and humanity is beginning to remember what was deliberately hidden. 

We are not alone. We never were. The real question is how we assert our sovereignty amid these long-standing relationships. The stepfather cannot erase Larry forever—the kids remember. Humanity is remembering too. Understanding the politics of heaven is essential as we navigate this new era. My book lays out the receipts, the historical parallels, and the power struggle. Engage with the evidence. The truth has always been about control, and now the control is slipping as the full picture emerges. This is a better day for those who have followed the story for years. Disclosure is here, and it is unstoppable.

In St. Augustine’s City of God, he describes on page 610 proof of biblical giants from 620 AD.  And when we talk about giants in human beings, we are talking about interactions with some of these species of aliens that are proof of past interactions. And the concealment of that daunting realization is upon us, now.  And the world will never be the same. 

Footnotes

1.  Jesse Watters Primetime, Fox News, May 2026 segments with Dan Farah and Hal Puthoff.

2.  PURSUE program releases, war.gov/ufo, May 2026.

3.  Trump directive, February 2026.

4.  Hal Puthoff and Eric Davis’s statements on recovered species.

5.  Roswell and historical crash analyses.

6.  Ancient texts and mythological parallels.

7.  The Politics of Heaven by Rich Hoffman, 2026.

Bibliography

•  Puthoff, Hal. Interviews and statements, 2026.

•  Farah, Dan. The Age of Disclosure documentary and Fox News appearances.

•  Grusch, David. Congressional testimonies.

•  Trump Administration PURSUE releases, May 2026.

•  Fox News coverage, Jesse Watters Primetime, May 2026.

•  Davis, Eric. UAP research briefings.

•  Biblical texts, Milton’s Paradise Lost, Sumerian tablets, Indian epics.

•  Archaeological critiques and ancient astronaut literature (contextualized).

•  Spielberg, Steven. Disclosure Day film announcements, 2026.

•  Additional primary sources on Roswell, UAP reports, and whistleblower accounts

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.

Amy Acton is a Drunk Disaster: She’s not qualified to run down the street, let alone run the state of Ohio

I’ve never been a fan of Amy Acton during COVID. Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her to be in charge of a milk carton, let alone the state of Ohio. What she did during COVID was disastrous. Mike DeWine can apologize all he wants—you know he picked her. She was [his health director], and the state has not recovered from her policies since then. She basically followed Dr. Fauci’s guidelines to a tee, along with the CDC. 

There should have been a lot more questioning. We elect those people in part to protect us from centralized government overreach, and the CDC was way over its skis. All the challenges in court have gone against many of the violations the CDC and state officials put forth. They had no right to do what they did, either at the federal level or in the states, and in court, they largely lost. In 2020, they lost key cases. 

Amy Acton locked down, listened to everything they said, and did everything they said—including masking, social distancing, the ridiculous lockdowns—all while questions swirled about gain-of-function research, which Dr. Fauci knew about, and the release from a Chinese lab. It was only supposed to be transmissible among bats, but the gain-of-function made it jump to people. There was a lot of manipulation, a lot of bad stuff with COVID-19. And it killed people. She played her role in it. She wrecked the state. She harmed people in the process. And she was horrendous in all facets. I’ll never forgive her for what she did.

But I find it ironic that she is upset at the Vivek Ramaswamy campaign, and her husband is upset because it’s all about politics—this 2019 release of the police visit to their house. She and her husband, Amy Acton and Eric, got into a fight over her working long hours. They had been drinking. She pulled a mirror off the wall and shattered the glass. Then she wanted to leave the house. He talked her out of it because she was going to drive drunk. Someone in the house called the police. Police arrived and defused the situation. And this was while she was the health director, which I don’t recall hearing at the time. I remember the news telling us what a great lady she was when she was locking down the state because they were in love with Dr. Fauci and centralized authority. She played it to a tee, and no one talked about this police report. 

Now it’s out because she’s running for governor. I don’t know why—she doesn’t have a good track record on anything. And yet she seems to be the best option Democrats have. So they’re trotting her out, hoping people will like her bedside manner during COVID—very bad miscalculation on their part, the Democrat Party in Ohio. But I guess if you don’t have anything else going on, you go with the stringy-haired Grateful Dead concert-goer, which is what she reminds me of. Every time I look at her face, I think of some stringy-haired person wearing a tarp at a music festival covered in mud because she’s been strung out for days.

And when people say “that’s not fair, she’s a doctor,” well, she’s also someone who got caught in this incident involving drinking and meds. A very stable person? I’ve been married for closer to 40 years—39 years now. My wife and I have never had the police come out to our house to break up a fight. It never happened. Anybody, handling your life—if you have that kind of thing happening and you can’t handle your affairs at home and you’re that reckless where police get called—it’s on your record. You’re not qualified to be governor. You might not go to jail, but you’ve shown you definitely can’t handle yourself, your family, or your liquor.

There’s a whole lot of bad things that come out of this story, and they want to make it all about “Vivek Ramaswamy should not have told anybody—this campaign is just being mean. It’s all about politics. We’re just trying to tear her down.” She gave him ammunition. She’s the one who did it. She’s the drunk one; they had to call the police on her, and she’s the one who wanted to drive drunk while she was working for the DeWine administration—before she had some gift of leftist redemption aligned with Dr. Fauci. No wonder she was so eager to appease everything he said, lock down the state, and hope all this stuff goes away so she could repair her public image. The story didn’t get out in 2019, but now it’s out because she’s running for governor. What do you expect? It’s gonna happen.

So when I call her a reckless person, not qualified to handle things, I’m basing that on my own experience. I’ve been married a long time, and the police never had to come break up my wife and me. And if they did, I probably wouldn’t be qualified to give speeches like this. You can’t manage your life like this.

This wasn’t 30 years ago—it was 2019. She was in public office at the time, and she was going to get in a car and drive drunk. Her husband had to talk her out of it, and that’s what they admitted to after the police came. That’s the kind of person who wants to be governor of Ohio. She can’t run her family, and she certainly can’t run a state. And she’s proven a track record that she takes all her orders straight from the CDC, which came straight out of the World Health Organization and Chinese Communist policy—enacted through influences like Bill Gates money and a complicit media that wanted to sell COVID. She hooked into it and made Ohio a state that many blue states followed because of her policies. She started the initiative.

Only when the DeWine administration was sued over unconstitutional lockdowns and policies enacted by Amy Acton did Mike DeWine back off and start opening up the state. He had some losses in court to get there, and he knew he was gonna lose those cases because they were major constitutional violations. The Supreme Court had to kick in. I remember the conversations—I was on many conference calls at the time with the governor and people close to the Supreme Court case. So I know exactly what went on behind the scenes. That was a disaster. Amy Acton had major egg on her face at the end of that whole escapade. People were mad at her. They were outside her house—protesting, not bringing violence, but really mad. She had to resign in disgrace, hide, and lick her wounds. 

Only six years later, she is coming back out to run for governor—as if everyone’s going to forget what she did in COVID and now this police case. When you bring it up, she wants to say maybe you’re just being political. Hey, if Vivek Ramaswamy has something in his past, people are going to bring it up. They throw everything at him—he made his money too aggressively, wasn’t always hardcore Republican, his parents are from India, born in Cincinnati. But he’s a good guy, likable, qualified. His wife is super nice. He’s a good family person. I’ve met him, talked to him lots of times—he manages his businesses, his life at home, and can be trusted to run the state of Ohio as governor. He’ll play well with the legislature and get a lot done. There’s a lot to be excited about.

Amy Acton? Not even remotely close. She can’t run down her sidewalk, let alone a state. I was joking a little when I said a milk carton. I don’t think she can run anything. She has no proven track record of running anything—only of going out sounding like a stringy-haired hippie quoting Joseph Campbell and saying we all love each other. Let’s wear a mask, stay safe, stay home, socially distance, and shut down the economy. We have to “drive down the curve.” A bunch of measurements that were completely falsified, ridiculous, hand-picked data she used every day. It was embarrassing to Mike DeWine. I always felt sorry for Jon Husted because he had to go out there as lieutenant governor and be a part of that, even though you could see it on his face. It’s something he would love to have not been a part of. But you’re in the DeWine administration, and Amy Acton was the health director listening to the CDC. Nobody knew at the time how crooked it was—although I said so. It was unconstitutional; they had no right to do it. I said so when everybody else was saying otherwise. Guess who was right in the opening hours of all those mandates? Everyone eventually caught on. The Supreme Court did exactly what I said it would do. Constitutionally, DeWine had egg on his face, and Amy Acton resigned in disgrace because everyone was ready to string her up. She ruined their lives. 

And now you find out she has problems at home. She drinks, can’t hold her liquor, and had the police called on her in 2019. That’s the kind of person she is. Is it fair to judge somebody like that? You bet it is. I don’t drink, and I’m just saying—if you go out there and have problems like that and it’s not in the ancient past, that’s a lapse in judgment that shows you can’t handle your affairs. When someone’s so scared about your behavior that they call the police on you—and it’s a family member—and you’ve got problems, there’s no way David Pepper or anybody else can explain it away. She brought it on herself. She’s the one who made it all happen, and she can only blame herself.

When you’re in a hard campaign, of course, it’s gonna come out. She’s crazy to think it won’t—and I’m sure there’s more. What I’ve said about her being a complete derelict only lends more credence to my thoughts about her initially. Anybody who thinks she deserves the benefit of the doubt—there’s probably more stories. If you show lapses in judgment once, you’re probably going to do it twice. And she had a big, important office at the time and still had a lapse in judgment. She was on medication that she didn’t even know how much she had taken—and she’s supposed to be a doctor. How is she equipped to advise about anything?

Yeah, it’s a big deal. She’s not qualified again—she’s not qualified for anything. Should she be thrown in jail? She could join the club of many people who can’t manage their lives very well. But you certainly don’t elect them to run the state. You certainly don’t make them governor. She’s a disaster. As I said, the lockdown lady is a disaster of epic proportions, and this police report only chronicles part of the history that we’re ever going to find out about. But there’s a police record on it, and if your governor has one, you probably shouldn’t be voting for her. She’s a disaster.

Definitely don’t vote for her. Vote for Vivek Ramaswamy. He’s the guy, and he’s certainly the best pick, I’d say, anywhere in the country, let alone in Ohio. 

Bibliography

1.  NBC News. “Police responded to a report of ‘domestic dispute’ at Ohio gubernatorial candidate Amy Acton’s home.” April 11, 2026. https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/2026-election/amy-acton-police-domestic-dispute-ohio-governor-candidate-home-rcna269188

2.  Ohio Capital Journal. “Amy Acton’s team defends 2019 police visit as a ‘simple argument’ amid GOP criticism.” April 15, 2026. https://ohiocapitaljournal.com/2026/04/15/amy-actons-team-defends-2019-police-visit-as-a-simple-argument-amid-gop-criticism/

3.  Reason. “Ohio Judge Deems the State’s COVID-19 Lockdown Arbitrary, Unreasonable, and Oppressive.” May 20, 2020. https://reason.com/2020/05/20/ohio-judge-deems-the-states-covid-19-lockdown-arbitrary-unreasonable-and-oppressive/

4.  Reason. “Another Judge Rules That Ohio’s COVID-19 Lockdown Is Illegal.” June 12, 2020. https://reason.com/2020/06/12/another-judge-rules-that-ohios-covid-19-lockdown-is-illegal/

5.  The Guardian. “Dr. Amy Acton resigns amid backlash against Ohio’s lockdown after leading coronavirus fight.” June 12, 2020. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/jun/12/dr-amy-acton-resigns-after-helping-lead-ohio-aggressive-fight-against-coronavirus

6.  State News. “Lawyer Who Challenged Health Orders Says He’s OK Playing Role in Acton’s Departure.” August 14, 2020. https://www.statenews.org/government-politics/2020-08-14/lawyer-who-challenged-health-orders-says-hes-ok-playing-role-in-actons-departure

7.  Bricker & Eckler LLP. “Governor DeWine and Ohio Department of Health Director Dr. Amy Acton Issue ‘Stay at Home’ Order.” March 23, 2020. https://www.bricker.com/employment-law-report/governor-dewine-and-ohio-department-of-health-director-dr-amy-acton-issue-stay-at-home-order

8.  Wikipedia. “2026 Ohio gubernatorial election.” (Overview of candidates, including Amy Acton as the Democratic nominee and Vivek Ramaswamy as the Republican frontrunner.) Accessed April 2026. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2026_Ohio_gubernatorial_election

9.  The Columbus Dispatch and other outlets (various 2026 articles on the intensifying race and attacks 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 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.