Trump Put out the Evidence: How can media companies claim it’s all false before they actually read it?

I sat there the other day listening to the typical pre-speech coverage of President Trump’s primetime address on election security, and it was the same tired script I’ve heard for years now. The reporters and anchors could barely contain their eagerness to frame it as the desperate act of a man who cannot bring himself to abandon the most unpopular policies, no matter how toxic they may be for his own people running for reelection or for the party itself. They talked about his “gambit,” about how he was going to try to convince Republicans that the sky is falling on voting machines and foreign influence, and they already had the line ready: the president is expected to release declassified intelligence about China’s role, but of course it will all be false. How do they know it’s false before anyone has even looked at the documents? Because the network producers and the people who own those networks already decided it was false. That network of people is the real problem. They take bits and pieces, glue them together into a predetermined conclusion, and then run with it as if they have done any real analysis. One thing Donald Trump is not incapable of is putting actual evidence in front of the American people. That was the coverage before the speech even aired, right in the middle of July, while Trump was still out there logging the hours and trying to lock in the system’s security for the long haul. It is disconcerting, and it is exactly why I have spent more time than most going down the rabbit hole of what is really running our political order. When every talking head gets the same memo and says the same thing about elections, you start to wonder whether they are all that stupid or whether a lie can be denied until you die and everybody will play along.

We have known Democrats have been cheating for decades. It was not invented in 2020. I knew something was fishy in 2012. I knew it again in 2016 when Trump obviously won Florida. The panhandle results came in early, and they were overwhelmingly Republican, just as anyone who understands the state would expect. Then you had the usual delays out of the bigger Democrat-leaning counties, Brevard and the rest, where the reporting slowed to a crawl on election night. What they found was that Trump’s lead was too large to overcome with the remaining ballots, so they finally had to turn the results in. This was before COVID and the great expansion of mail-in ballots, signature verification theater, and the endless counting until the other side got what it needed. We just kept counting. That is the pattern. Now people are paying closer attention, and the same act is still necessary for Democrats and the media that cover for them. I heard the ABC reporter come straight out and say the President of the United States was going to give an address to the nation on Thursday night talking about the SAVE Act and election security, and the framing was already that he was pushing something false. Trump is not going to run again. He will be well into his eighties when he leaves office. He has done the job he set out to do and will ride off into the sunset. So why does he care so much? Because the midterms are lining up to be an overwhelming Republican year if the elections are actually secure. Democrats are going to have a hard time if everybody is watching the results carefully. I will say it again: if you are a Republican and you do not want to have to compete against another Democrat who should never have been on the ballot, you need to pay attention to making these elections as secure as possible. They cannot cheat if the system will not let them. How do you know they have been cheating? You can tell by the way the coverage is handled. They know something is there. The same ABC voice that said “President Trump falsely claims there was election fraud in 2020” did not wait to examine the evidence he was about to release. They just declared it false. Trump does not need a personal reason beyond the upcoming midterms and the simple fact that he does not want Democrats taking the House through the same methods they have used for years. The projections already lean Republican, but those projections assume a relatively clean process. Force voter ID. Make people show identification to vote. Why is that so controversial? Because Democrats cannot win if they cannot cheat, and that is a real problem that has been with us not just for a few years but for decades. That is how they have kept it close since Reagan was in office.

Both Bushes knew it was going on, and the Republican establishment did not stand up for itself. I am not a typical Republican in that sense. I knew Rob Portman pretty well before he became a senator, and I watched him drift. You get to Washington, and people start leaning on you. You start sympathizing with the other side a little. You eat lunch with them every day in the cafeteria. They have good hamburgers down there, by the way. You stand in line with the people you are supposed to be fighting, and they talk about the movies and their kids and where the kids are going to college. You develop a liking for them. Pretty soon you are voting more similarly than you ever intended, and you might even suspect that some of them only got into office through fraud, but you do not want to see them embarrassed. You do not want to expose it because friendships have formed. Fair enough. It happens in almost every industry. But that is not what voters are voting for. Voters want representative government. When you soft-pedal the problem, you are voting not to give it to them. The 2020 election was the clearest case yet of the system deciding that President Trump would not be allowed a second term, so they threw him out. They rigged it the way they do in other nations, the way Russia and much of Europe keep their people in power. Democrats have kept it close in the United States through election fraud for many decades, and reporters are being deliberately disingenuous when they refuse to admit it. They know it. When they come out and say “President Trump falsely claims” before they have even looked at the reports he just released, they are not doing journalism. They are taking the corporate byline and running with it. He put the evidence out there. No one analyzed it. They just declared the claim false.

I happen to know precisely where a lot of the theft took place, and there were a lot of crooks involved. Now that more people are open to looking at it, we have to talk about it and make sure it doesn’t happen again. That is what Trump’s national address was about: why we need secure elections, what we have learned, and what needs to happen going forward so the SAVE Act can finally pass. He went to the public and laid it out, and the criticism from the media types was extraordinary in its uniformity and its arrogance. How do they have the right to say he provided evidence of fraud involving China and then act as if they already know more than he does? They were given a line by the producers and the owners of their media companies: Trump is crazy, there was no election fraud in 2020, even though everybody who has looked at the data knows there was an abundance of it. Most Democrats currently in office should not be there because the elections that put them there were compromised. Look at Kentucky. The teachers’ unions and the college towns in Louisville, Lexington, and Frankfort were able to push a candidate over the top with enough votes collected without proper identification. Anywhere you have low election security, you are going to find Democrats excelling and winning even when the broader population is not actually voting for them. That is the problem. If you do not have secure elections, you do not have representative government. You have a system that has seized power and is using its influence to destroy the free will of the voters. That is not acceptable. Before you say “he falsely claims,” you should at least look at the evidence. Trump put it out. There is a lot of it.

The documents released with the speech show that over a period of years starting in the 2020 cycle, China carried out what is described as the largest compromise of election data in history, acquiring roughly 220 million U.S. voter files. Those files included names, home addresses, phone numbers, political party preferences, and other sensitive data that could be used to register voters or engage in other forms of interference. Intelligence assessments indicated that China assigned a specific data-exploitation unit to the project. U.S. agencies began learning about the compromise of tens of millions of voters’ data across 18 states as early as 2020, yet the information was suppressed and downplayed. The same set of documents underscores long-known vulnerabilities in electronic voting and ballot-counting systems. Adversaries including China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea can compromise election infrastructure, particularly centralized repositories such as voter registration databases, poll books, and official election websites. A DHS review of available state voter rolls and public records identified approximately 278,000 non-citizens registered to vote in federal elections, and the actual number is almost certainly higher because several Democrat-controlled states refused to share their full files. These are not fringe theories. These are the findings that the administration declassified and put before the country. The media response was to declare the claims false before the public had time to read a single page.

That is the conspiracy. The people who run the corporations that own the major media outlets want to reserve the right to insert Democrats into office and play kingmaker through illegal or insecure election means, whether through machines, mail-in ballots with no reliable chain of custody, or perpetual counting that continues until the desired margin appears. There is no voter ID on many of these ballots, so votes can be manufactured until the numbers work out. There is a great deal of evidence that this is exactly what has happened in multiple cycles, and it is a big story. A primetime address should have received far more serious treatment. Instead, you see how the media handled it, because they are part of the problem. Corporations want to control who gets into office, which is why so many policy outcomes look the way they do. It is not because we freely chose them. It is because the system has been captured by people who treat free elections as an obstacle rather than the foundation of self-government. Free and secure elections are how a people maintains its own government. They are taking that away, and that is why Trump went on primetime and talked about it. We had a hard lesson in 2020. We are still fiddling around with the facts when we should have taken decisive action years ago. He went to the airwaves because the matter is serious, and it will remain serious for every election going forward.

The media voices who dismiss all of this without examination are in bed with the same forces trying to rob people of their ability to maintain their own government through honest elections. That is supposed to stay here. Until we address it, we will keep having the same problems. The SAVE Act needs to pass. If you are serious about representative government, demand it. Call your representatives. Pay attention to the midterms. Make the process as hard to cheat as possible. That is the only way the people who actually show up and vote get the government they intend.

If you have ever read my book on business and the gunfighter approach to dealing with reality as it is rather than as the comfortable prefer it to be, you already know where I stand on these matters of discipline and clear-eyed assessment. The larger story of how power actually operates in this country, and the deeper forces that shape the political order, is something I have been exploring at length. Disclosure of the full picture requires understanding the politics of heaven itself. The evidence is there for anyone willing to look past the daily bylines.

Footnotes

1. Pre-speech and post-speech framing by ABC, NBC, and CNN treated Trump’s claims as predetermined falsehoods; networks declined to air the July 16, 2026, primetime address live on their main channels. See ABC News, “Key takeaways from Trump’s election speech,” July 17, 2026; The Hill, “James Carville criticizes networks for not airing Trump’s election security speech,” July 17, 2026.

2. On 2016 Florida reporting patterns, panhandle counties reported early and heavily for Trump while certain larger counties lagged; contemporaneous accounts noted the scale of the Republican margin forced earlier reporting. See Politico, “How Trump won Florida,” November 8, 2016.

3. The SAVE America Act (also referred to as the Safeguard American Voter Eligibility Act) mandates documentary proof of citizenship for registration, photo identification for voting in federal elections, and greater state sharing of voter-roll data. House passage occurred in February 2026; subsequent efforts attached provisions to other legislation amid Senate resistance. See Bipartisan Policy Center, “Six Things to Know About the SAVE America Act,” updated July 17, 2026; Congress.gov, H.R. 7296 and related measures.

4. White House release accompanying the July 16, 2026, address: “Over a period of years starting during the 2020 election cycle, the People’s Republic of China carried out what is believed to be the largest compromise of election data in history—resulting in China’s illicit acquisition of 220 million U.S. voter files.” Includes names, addresses, phone numbers, and party preferences; intelligence community assessments spanning 2020–2026 document adversary capabilities against election infrastructure. Official White House page, “Election Integrity,” July 2026, and linked declassified packages on China’s acquisition of American voter data and vulnerabilities in electronic voting systems.

5. DHS review cited in the same release identified approximately 278,000 non-citizens registered to vote based on available state rolls and public records; the administration noted the figure is incomplete because certain states declined full data sharing. White House, “Election Integrity,” July 2026.

6. Heritage Foundation Election Fraud Database contains more than 1,400 documented, proven instances of election fraud across multiple categories (as of late 2025 updates exceeding 1,600 sampled cases). Heritage Foundation, Election Fraud Map and Database, electionfraud.heritage.org.

7. Kentucky races have repeatedly featured claims of irregularities concentrated in urban and university-adjacent counties with weaker identification practices; former Governor Matt Bevin and others publicly alleged absentee and machine issues after close contests. Courier-Journal, “What officials, experts say about Bevin’s voter fraud claims,” November 2019; ongoing Kentucky Attorney General election-integrity inquiries, 2026.

8. Intelligence Community assessments (January 2020 onward) state that U.S. adversaries including China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea possess the capability to compromise election infrastructure, with centralized voter databases and poll books judged most vulnerable: declassified materials released July 16, 2026, White House Election Integrity portal.

Bibliography

ABC News. “Key takeaways from Trump’s elections speech.” July 17, 2026. https://abcnews.com/Politics/key-takeaways-trumps-elections-speech/story?id=134835191.

Bipartisan Policy Center. “Six Things to Know About the SAVE America Act

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

The Frogman of Loveland: Down the Rabbit Hole to the Politics of Heaven and Magonia

I did not set out to become the UFO guy. I woke up asking practical questions about power, motivation, and politics—the same way I have solved engineering and organizational problems my entire career in aerospace and executive roles. Something was broken in our understanding of how the world actually works, and I wanted to fix it by following the evidence wherever it led. That path started with the Bible, the divine council, and the politics of heaven itself. It took me through anthropology, local Ohio archaeology along the Little Miami River valley I know so well, and straight into the work of Jacques Vallée. The synchronicity is very interesting.

When I began writing The Politics of Heaven, my goal was straightforward: to understand the motivations of the characters we pray to and interact with in scripture. The Bible is not a collection of moral fables; it is a chronicle of encounters with super-characters—angels, demons, principalities, powers, and the divine council. Job’s story alone shows Satan as a member of that council, maneuvering Yahweh into testing a loyal man. That is politics. Pure, raw politics. If we are going to engage with these forces through prayer, ritual, or culture, we had better know what they want. Human politics is not enough. We need to map the agendas of the non-human intelligences that have been shaping events from the beginning.

That line of inquiry naturally led me to anthropology. Sir James Frazer’s The Golden Bough remains one of my favorite books after years of reading it. It opened the door to how cultures worldwide have interacted with the spirit world—the “great spirit,” ancestors, and other intelligences. Modern anthropology grew out of that comparative study, but it largely stopped at human societies. It cataloged myths, rituals, and shamans without seriously asking whether the beings on the other side of those rituals had their own coherent politics, territories, and long-term strategies. I propose we need a new branch: an anthropology of non-human intelligence and its impact on human history, culture, and current events.

Living here in the Cincinnati area, with deep roots in Butler County and the river valleys, the evidence was literally under my feet and in my backyard. The Little Miami River corridor is thick with Hopewell-era ceremonial earthworks. Fort Ancient sits on a plateau overlooking the river, just a short distance from Loveland and Milford—3.5 miles of precisely engineered earthen walls enclosing roughly 100 acres, with documented astronomical alignments with the solstices and lunar standstills. It was not a fort in the military sense; it was a monumental ritual and observational complex.

Further down the valley, in what is now Terrace Park, there once stood one of Hamilton County’s largest prehistoric earthworks—an enclosure of about 80 acres along the bluff above the Little Miami. In 1820, it was still visible, six feet high and twelve feet wide at the base. Today, homes, gardens, and part of a school sit atop it. Other mounds in the area were leveled for roads like Wooster Pike or disappeared under development. These were not random piles of dirt. They shared the same sophisticated geometry and mathematics seen at the great Newark Earthworks—precise circles, octagons, and alignments that encoded lunar cycles (the 18.6-year standstill), solar events, and what appears to be practical knowledge of π and equal-area constructions between squares and circles.

Newark itself is staggering. The Great Circle and Octagon complex once sprawled over several square miles. Researchers like Ray Hively, Robert Horn, Bradley Lepper, and William Romain have documented alignments of breathtaking precision—every major lunar standstill direction embedded in the architecture when viewed over the local horizon. These were not defensive works or casual gathering places. They were cosmic engines, ritual machines designed to connect heaven and earth, time and space. Shamans almost certainly used them in altered states—likely with psychedelics or other techniques—to communicate with the spirit world. The geometry stripped away ordinary filters and tuned the participants to frequencies where non-human intelligences could interact.

If we had not paved over so many of these sites with neighborhoods, roads, and golf courses, places like the Terrace Park earthwork and others around Milford would rank as world-heritage-level marvels alongside the pyramids or Stonehenge. The precision of their construction, the labor involved, and the astronomical knowledge encoded in them point to something far beyond ordinary tribal engineering. Either the Hopewell independently achieved mathematical and observational sophistication that rivals anything in the ancient world, or they were receiving information and instruction from intelligences that already understood these patterns.

That brings me to the frogman.

Just a few miles upstream and downstream from these lost or buried ceremonial centers along the Little Miami, people have been seeing something that does not fit ordinary biology. In 1955, a businessman near Loveland reported three or four humanoid figures, three to four feet tall, with leathery skin and frog- or lizard-like faces, gathered near a bridge or along the riverbank. One version mentions a wand-like object emitting sparks or light. In 1972, Loveland police officer Ray Shockey encountered a similar being on Riverside Drive near the old Totes boot factory and the river. It stood up in his headlights. His partner, Mark Mathews, later claimed to have shot one; decades afterward, he said it was a large tailless iguana that had escaped a pet owner and was living near warm factory pipes. The legend persisted anyway—scrape marks on guardrails, a creature climbing over or under them and vanishing into the water. In 2016, near Lake Isabella (right across from Indian Hill and close to the old Terrace Park area), Pokémon Go players reported seeing a large, frog-like figure standing on its hind legs.

My family has turned the Loveland Frogman into a running joke with the grandkids. “Let’s go catch a frogman tonight down by the river.” It is fifteen minutes from the house. We laugh, but the pattern is hard to ignore. These sightings cluster in the exact river corridor where major Hopewell ritual sites once stood—sites now largely erased by modern development. The beings show up looking for something that is no longer there: the shamans, the rituals, the precise geometric invitations that once opened doors between worlds. They arrive a couple of thousand years too late or too early, stepping over guardrails on Kemper Road or near Lake Isabella, still drawn to the old power spots along the Little Miami.

This is where Jacques Vallée enters the story through pure synchronicity. While sharing early drafts of The Politics of Heaven with agents, publishers, and consultants, multiple people independently told me the same thing: “You sound like Jacques Vallée. You need to read Passport to Magonia.” I had avoided deep dives into UFO literature because I did not want to be labeled the UFO guy. I knew Vallée had consulted on Close Encounters of the Third Kind, but I had not read his work. When the book arrived from Amazon the next day—waiting at a distribution center as if it had been pre-positioned—I opened it and immediately recognized the territory.

Vallée’s central argument in Passport to Magonia (1969) is that modern UFO occupants are not new. They are the fairies, elves, sylphs, demons, angels, and aerial beings of folklore repackaged for a technological age. He draws on medieval accounts of ships from Magonia—a legendary realm in the clouds whose sailors collected grain knocked down by storms—and shows the same encounter structure repeating across centuries: aerial craft, non-human entities, interaction (sometimes seductive or revelatory, sometimes disturbing), and departure. The beings adapt their appearance and story to the expectations of the witnesses. They leave physical traces but behave in ways that violate the physics implied by their appearance. They operate as a control system or an influence mechanism, interacting with human consciousness over time.

Magonia, in Vallée’s reading, functions like a rival sovereignty—a political order operating just outside or alongside our dimensional reality. That matched exactly what my research into the divine council and biblical politics had already led me to conclude independently. These are not simple visitors from another planet dropping in for disclosure or friendly ET chats. They are ultra-terrestrials or interdimensional intelligences with their own agendas, territories, and long game. They have been shaping human culture, religion, and politics for millennia—sometimes as gods or angels, sometimes as tricksters or tormentors. The Hopewell geometers and shamans were engaging them through precise ritual architecture. The frogman sightings suggest they still patrol the old contact zones.

I am not claiming every sighting is profound. Some are misidentifications or hoaxes. But the pattern—ancient ceremonial precision along the same rivers where cryptid activity persists, the synchronicity of arriving at Vallée’s conclusions through biblical and political inquiry, the consistent folklore structure across cultures—demands serious attention. Steven Spielberg captured a sanitized version in Close Encounters and E.T. The cute, friendly aliens who want to take us for a ride or phone home. The real record includes missing time, abductions, trauma, and manipulation. Vallée documented the disturbing side; mainstream disclosure narratives often soften it.

Understanding their politics matters. If these intelligences have motivations—territorial, informational, or influence-based—then treating them as either nonexistent or purely benevolent is a form of strategic blindness. Just as we map human political actors, we need to map theirs. The Bible already does some of that work. Anthropology and archaeology can do more if we stop pretending the “spirit world” was only a psychological projection. The evidence from Newark, Fort Ancient, the lost mounds of Terrace Park and Milford, the persistent frogman activity, and Vallée’s comparative folklore all point in the same direction: non-human intelligences have been here, interacting with us, and they have their own order.

I did not chase this rabbit hole for fame or money. There is little of either in the following evidence, this far outside the box. I followed it because the questions were honest and the evidence was insistent. The Politics of Heaven is the result—a treasure hunt through scripture, history, archaeology, and personal experience that refuses to stop at comfortable boundaries. The synchronicity with Vallée’s work was not a coincidence; it was confirmation that the evidence converges.

We are long past the point where we can afford to dismiss these patterns as mere folklore or swamp gas. The beings that built—or inspired—the precise geometries of the Hopewell earthworks, that still appear along the same rivers in forms adapted to our expectations, and that the Bible chronicles as members of a divine council with political agency, are operating with agendas. Mapping those agendas is not a conspiracy theory. It is the next necessary step in anthropology, political strategy, and honest theology.

The frogman is still out there, or something like him. The old sites are still under the neighborhoods. And the politics of heaven—and of Magonia—continue whether we pay attention or not.

Footnotes (selected key references; full bibliography follows):

1. Jacques Vallée, Passport to Magonia: From Folklore to Flying Saucers (1969; various editions). Core thesis on continuity between UFO occupants and historical aerial beings/fairies from Magonia and similar traditions.

2. Reports on Loveland Frogman: Singular Fortean Society coverage of 1972 officer sightings (Shockey/Mathews); WCPO 2016 interview with Mathews identifying the shot creature as a large iguana; 1955 Stringfield report of businessman sighting near Loveland/Little Miami bridges; 2016 Pokémon Go sighting near Lake Isabella.

3. Terrace Park earthwork: Historical Society of Terrace Park records noting a large ~80-acre enclosure visible into the 19th/20th century, now largely covered by development, homes, and school grounds—other local mounds destroyed by road construction.

4. Fort Ancient: Descriptions of hilltop enclosure overlooking Little Miami River, ~3.5 miles of walls, astronomical alignments (solstice, lunar). See National Park Service and archaeological summaries.

5. Newark Earthworks geometry and astronomy: Foundational work by Ray Hively and Robert Horn (1982 onward) on lunar standstill alignments in the Octagon; Bradley Lepper and William Romain on geometry, “squaring the circle” relations, cosmic/ritual function, pilgrimage center aspects. UNESCO World Heritage designation for Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks (2023) includes several Ohio sites.

6. Hopewell culture context: Widespread ceremonial earthworks across Ohio river valleys (Scioto, Little Miami, etc.), ~200 BCE–500 CE, advanced mathematics, astronomy, trade, likely shamanic ritual use of geometry and altered states. Many sites were lost to agriculture and urban development.

7. Biblical references: Job (divine council politics, Satan as a member testing Yahweh’s servant); broader Enochic and prophetic traditions on principalities, powers, and heavenly politics.

8. Frazer, James George. The Golden Bough (various editions). Foundational comparative study of myth, ritual, and interaction with spirit/great spirit across cultures; inspiration for expanded anthropology.

Bibliography (selected; expands on footnotes for depth):

• Vallée, Jacques. Passport to Magonia.

• Hively, Ray, and Robert Horn. “Geometry and Astronomy in Prehistoric Ohio.” Journal for the History of Astronomy: Archaeoastronomy Supplement (1982 and subsequent papers).

• Lepper, Bradley T. Multiple works on Newark Earthworks as ceremonial landscape, pilgrimage center, and geometric/astronomical achievement.

• Romain, William F. Works on Hopewell geometry, astronomy, cosmology, and Fort Ancient.

• Squier, Ephraim George, and Edwin Hamilton Davis. Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley (1848). Foundational survey including Ohio earthworks.

• Historical Society of Terrace Park records on local prehistoric earthworks.

• Singular Fortean Society, WCPO, and contemporary newspaper accounts of Loveland Frogman incidents (1955, 1972, 2016).

• National Park Service and Ohio History Connection materials on Fort Ancient and Hopewell sites.

• Frazer, James George. The Golden Bough.

• Biblical texts (Job, Enoch traditions, references to divine council and principalities).

Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes

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

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

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

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

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

Bibliography

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

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

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

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The Making of George Washington: Lessons from Youth and Adversity in Young Washington

George Washington occupies a unique place in the American imagination. His face appears on currency, his name rests upon the nation’s capital, and his reputation has become so intertwined with the founding of the United States that many people think of him only as the victorious commander of the Revolutionary War or the first President. Yet the making of George Washington occurred long before Yorktown, before the Constitutional Convention, and before the presidency itself. The true story of Washington is the story of formation through adversity, failure, hardship, and character. That is why a film centered upon his youth is so important. A society that wishes to understand greatness must study not only triumphs but also the difficult roads that produced them.

The importance of Young Washington lies precisely in its willingness to explore that earlier chapter. Rather than beginning with a celebrated general crossing the Delaware River or presiding over a new republic, the story examines the young man who had not yet become the legend. It reveals Washington during the years when mistakes carried consequences, when ambition collided with reality, and when the wilderness of North America tested the limits of endurance and leadership. Those experiences were not side notes to history. They were the furnace in which the future Father of His Country was forged.

Modern audiences often forget how dangerous eighteenth-century America actually was. The colonies were not peaceful settlements waiting patiently for independence. The frontier remained a contested world of forests, mountains, rivers, Native American nations, French military forces, British colonial ambitions, and competing claims to vast territories stretching westward beyond the Appalachians.[1] Young Washington entered this world as a surveyor and officer, navigating landscapes that were physically unforgiving and politically explosive.

The French and Indian War shaped the future of North America long before the American Revolution. Many historians describe it as the first global war because fighting extended beyond the American colonies into Europe, the Caribbean, India, and the Atlantic world.[2] The outcome would determine which empire dominated much of the continent—into this conflict stepped a young Virginian with little combat experience and enormous expectations resting upon his shoulders.

One of the most fascinating aspects of Washington’s early life was the extraordinary responsibility placed upon him at a remarkably young age. While many modern young adults are encouraged to avoid risk and postpone responsibility, eighteenth-century society frequently demanded the opposite. Washington found himself carrying diplomatic messages through wilderness territories, negotiating with Native American leaders, evaluating military threats, and commanding troops in situations that would challenge experienced officers.[3] Such responsibilities matured him quickly. The lessons learned in forests and mountains would prove no less valuable than those later learned on battlefields or in government chambers.

The story surrounding Fort Necessity remains one of the most important episodes of Washington’s development. It was not his greatest victory. In many respects, it represented a significant defeat. Yet history repeatedly shows that failures often teach more than successes. Built in a vulnerable meadow, the fort placed British colonial forces in a precarious position. French troops and their allies occupied superior terrain within the surrounding wooded areas. Rain transformed the battlefield into a muddy disaster. Washington ultimately surrendered under difficult circumstances in July 1754.[4]

Many historical figures spend their careers attempting to hide their failures. Washington did something different. He learned from them. The humiliation at Fort Necessity did not destroy his reputation; rather, it became one of the experiences that taught caution, patience, logistics, and strategic judgment. Years later, during the Revolutionary War, Washington would demonstrate restraint and discipline that distinguished him from many contemporaries. Those qualities did not emerge from nowhere. They emerged from earlier encounters with defeat and disappointment.

There is also something powerful about physically visiting places connected to history. Reading books provides knowledge, but standing where events occurred provides perspective. The mountains of western Maryland and Pennsylvania remain striking reminders of the challenges faced by colonial soldiers. The terrain itself explains much of the story. Steep ridges, dense forests, winding roads, and isolated valleys reveal why campaigns in that region were so difficult. Geography often becomes an invisible character in historical narratives, and nowhere is that more evident than in Washington’s frontier experience.

The routes that would later become the National Road carry tremendous historical significance as well. Connecting eastern population centers with western territories, they became some of the most important transportation projects in early American history.[5] Yet before roads and highways transformed the region, movement through those mountains demanded determination, courage, and endurance. Washington’s experiences along those routes exposed him to the realities of frontier America and deepened his understanding of the continent he would later help unite.

A film exploring these events succeeds when it respects the material. Historical drama does not require perfect documentation of every detail, but it must convey the spirit, character, and significance of the people involved. According to many viewers familiar with Washington’s biography, Young Washington captures that spirit effectively. The portrayal of Washington as noble without being perfect allows audiences to encounter him as a human being rather than an untouchable monument.

That distinction matters because modern culture frequently swings between extremes. Historical figures are either idealized beyond recognition or condemned without context. Washington deserves neither treatment. He was a man with strengths and flaws, successes and failures, extraordinary abilities and ordinary limitations. What separates him from countless others is not perfection but character. Throughout crises, disappointments, and temptations, he consistently sought duty above personal comfort.[6]

This emphasis upon character may explain why the film resonates so strongly with audiences. Many forms of contemporary entertainment focus upon antiheroes, cynicism, moral ambiguity, or spectacle. Such approaches can produce compelling stories, but they often leave audiences hungry for something different. There remains a deep desire to witness individuals striving toward virtue, honor, courage, and responsibility. Human beings naturally admire excellence. They seek examples of people attempting to become better versions of themselves.

This is one reason George Washington continues to command respect centuries after his death. His achievements cannot be separated from his moral aspirations. He believed leadership required self-control. He believed reputation mattered. He believed public service demanded sacrifice. He understood that power, if not restrained by character, could destroy both leaders and nations.[7]

Few decisions illustrate this more clearly than his resignation of military authority after the American Revolution. History contains countless examples of victorious generals who transformed military success into political dictatorship. Washington chose another path. After securing independence, he surrendered power and returned home. King George III reportedly remarked that such an action would make Washington “the greatest man in the world.”[8] The roots of that decision can be traced back to earlier lessons learned during his youth. The young officer who experienced failure at Fort Necessity eventually became the mature statesman willing to relinquish power.

The success of films like Young Washington also reflects a broader cultural shift. Many audiences increasingly search for stories that celebrate rather than deconstruct. Entertainment once produced numerous historical adventures focused upon courage, exploration, leadership, and national heritage. Classic productions such as Davy Crockett and Zorro attracted viewers not because their heroes were flawless, but because they represented ideals worth pursuing. Such stories reminded audiences that civilization depends upon honorable conduct.

Angel Studios appears to recognize this hunger. The company has developed a reputation for producing projects that emphasize family-friendly storytelling, historical subjects, faith, perseverance, and moral clarity. Whether individual viewers agree with every creative choice is ultimately secondary. The greater significance lies in the fact that audiences continue to support films that treat virtue seriously rather than sarcastically.

The enthusiastic audience response described by many theatergoers reinforces this point. Packed theaters, applause during credits, and viewers remaining in their seats after the film concludes suggest more than mere entertainment value. They suggest emotional investment. People stay because they do not want the experience to end. They remain because something meaningful has occurred. The story has connected them not merely with a plot but with values, memories, and aspirations.

History possesses a unique ability to create that connection. Contemporary debates often divide people, but historical narratives sometimes unite them around shared admiration for courage and perseverance. George Washington serves as one of those rare figures capable of reaching across ideological boundaries. Americans may disagree about countless issues, yet many still recognize the importance of the leadership that guided the nation through its earliest and most fragile years.[9]

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Washington’s story is the consistency between his public life and his private aspirations. The pursuit of self-improvement remained a recurring theme throughout his life. As a young man, he studied, observed, listened, and learned from mistakes. As a military leader, he refined discipline and judgment. As president, he attempted to place national interests above factional interests. Growth never stopped.

That emphasis upon striving rather than perfection carries enduring relevance. Every generation faces moments of disappointment, conflict, and uncertainty. Every individual encounters failures that seem overwhelming in the moment. Washington’s example demonstrates that setbacks need not define a life. Defeat at Fort Necessity did not prevent future greatness. Criticism did not prevent achievement. Hardship did not destroy resolve. Instead, adversity became preparation.

The frontier itself symbolized this process. The forests beyond colonial settlements represented danger, uncertainty, and opportunity. They tested physical endurance while revealing inner character. Washington’s journeys across that landscape helped develop qualities that later proved indispensable. Resourcefulness, patience, courage, adaptability, and resilience emerged not in comfort but in challenge.

A compelling historical film, therefore, accomplishes more than simple education. It invites audiences to reconsider what greatness actually means. Greatness is not merely holding office, winning battles, or receiving recognition. Greatness begins in the difficult choices made before anyone is watching. It begins with responsibility embraced rather than avoided. It begins with the willingness to learn from mistakes rather than deny them.

For that reason, Young Washington offers a valuable contribution to American historical storytelling. It introduces viewers to formative experiences that are often overshadowed by later accomplishments. It encourages appreciation for the long process through which character develops. Most importantly, it reminds audiences that the foundations of leadership are laid long before leadership is publicly recognized.

There is also something refreshing about spending time in the company of admirable characters. Modern culture often celebrates transgression while dismissing virtue as naïve. Yet viewers continue responding positively to stories featuring courage, integrity, loyalty, and self-sacrifice. The reason is simple. Human beings instinctively recognize these traits as desirable. They recognize them as qualities capable of elevating communities, institutions, and nations.

Washington’s story continues to endure because it illustrates that elevation. A young surveyor became a frontier officer. A frontier officer became a military commander. A military commander became the leader of a revolution. A revolutionary leader became the first president. Yet beneath each transformation remained the same aspiration toward honor and duty. The titles changed. The character remained.

Films capable of conveying that truth perform an important cultural service. They preserve memory. They encourage reflection. They connect present generations with the experiences that shaped earlier ones. They provide reminders that history is not simply a collection of dates and events but a record of human choices.

Ultimately, the enduring appeal of George Washington rests upon more than military accomplishments or political achievements. It rests upon the example of a man who repeatedly sought the higher path when easier alternatives existed. The youth who faced defeat in the mountains became the leader who guided a fragile republic. The officer who learned difficult lessons on the frontier became the statesman willing to place principle above personal ambition. The story remains powerful because it speaks to universal themes of growth, responsibility, perseverance, and character.

That is why Young Washington deserves attention. It tells a chapter of history too often ignored. It introduces audiences to the experiences that forged one of the most important figures in American history. It presents nobility without arrogance, courage without recklessness, and patriotism without cynicism. In an era frequently dominated by stories celebrating the worst of human behavior, there is something profoundly valuable about a story centered upon the possibility of becoming better. George Washington’s journey reminds audiences that greatness is not inherited, accidental, or effortless. It is earned through struggle, formed through adversity, and sustained through character. More than two centuries after his death, that lesson remains as relevant as ever.

Footnotes

[1] Fred Anderson, Crucible of War: The Seven Years’ War and the Fate of Empire in British North America, 1754–1766 (New York: Knopf, 2000).

[2] Daniel Baugh, The Global Seven Years’ War 1754–1763 (London: Routledge, 2011).

[3] George Washington, The Journal of Major George Washington (1754).

[4] David Preston, Braddock’s Defeat: The Battle of the Monongahela and the Road to Revolution (Oxford University Press, 2015).

[5] Karl Raitz, The National Road (Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996).

[6] Ron Chernow, Washington: A Life (New York: Penguin Press, 2010).

[7] James Thomas Flexner, George Washington in the American Revolution (Little, Brown and Company, 1968).

[8] Joseph J. Ellis, His Excellency: George Washington (New York: Knopf, 2004).

[9] Gordon S. Wood, The Radicalism of the American Revolution (Vintage Books, 1993).

Bibliography

Anderson, Fred. Crucible of War: The Seven Years’ War and the Fate of Empire in British North America, 1754–1766. New York: Knopf, 2000.

Baugh, Daniel. The Global Seven Years’ War 1754–1763. London: Routledge, 2011.

Chernow, Ron. Washington: A Life. New York: Penguin Press, 2010.

Ellis, Joseph J. His Excellency: George Washington. New York: Knopf, 2004.

Flexner, James Thomas. George Washington in the American Revolution. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1968.

Preston, David. Braddock’s Defeat: The Battle of the Monongahela and the Road to Revolution. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015.

Raitz, Karl. The National Road. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996.

Washington, George. The Journal of Major George Washington. Williamsburg, 1754.

Wood, Gordon S. The Radicalism of the American Revolution. New York: Vintage Books, 1993.

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

StarShip 13: Manufacturing with the Right Stuff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Eye of the Tiger: Lindsey Graham dies and Conor McGregor loses

I woke up in the middle of July 2026 to a couple of pieces of news that landed with a familiar weight, the kind you feel when patterns you have watched for years finally play out exactly as expected. Senator Lindsey Graham had died suddenly of a heart attack, or more precisely, what the reports called an aortic dissection tied to arteriosclerotic cardiovascular disease. It was a brief and sudden illness, they said, and the flags were ordered to half-mast. Around the same time, or perhaps the very same night, depending on time zones and fight cards, Conor McGregor stepped back into the Octagon at UFC 329 in Las Vegas against Max Holloway and lasted just sixty-nine seconds before a knee injury from one of his own flashy opening kicks forced the stoppage. A suspected blown ACL, the kind of thing that ends careers or at least sends fighters into long nights of the soul.

Neither outcome surprised me, though both carried that sting of unnecessary diminishment. I have never been a big fan of Lindsey Graham. He and John McCain represented a certain strain of Republicanism that always felt more interested in maintaining a seat at the table than in actually winning the fight for the principles they claimed to hold. They were the “Three Amigos” with Joe Lieberman, globetrotting on foreign policy, cutting deals, positioning themselves as the reasonable voices who could work across the aisle. In practice, that often meant the Republican brand took on water while the more aggressive side kept advancing. Graham bristled early when Trump criticized McCain’s war record, called Trump names, and destroyed phones in a stunt when his number got out. Later, he became a golfing buddy and defender. It was transactional. Hang around the winners long enough, and maybe some of the fire rubs off, or at least you stay relevant. I do not disparage a man on the day of his passing out of basic politeness and respect for the family. That is not what I will do. But as far as the political work goes, the vacancy he leaves in the South Carolina Senate is an opening. Governor McMaster will appoint someone as interim, and then there will be a special election. The question is whether that seat goes to someone who actually carries the eye of the tiger or to another placeholder who thinks proximity to power is the same as having it.

The McGregor situation felt even more avoidable and therefore more disappointing. I have always respected what he accomplished in his prime. The speed, the left hand, the way he made the entire sport bigger by sheer force of personality and skill. He changed the game. But watching the buildup to this comeback, I could see it coming from a mile away. There was a vacancy in his face during the face-off. The look was not there. The walk to the arena hours ahead of time already told the story. He was going through the motions that had once been fueled by something deeper. When the fight started, he opened with the jumping, theatrical kicks that signal a man trying to manufacture intensity he no longer feels in his bones. Within seconds, the knee buckled on landing; he tried to continue, but the referee waved it off. Max Holloway did not even have to do much. He just had to be the one who still had the gas in the tank and the willingness to press when the other man was already compensating with showmanship.

I felt sorry for Conor McGregor before the fight even started. I said it out loud to myself and to anyone who would listen in the days leading up to it. He should have stayed retired. Go out on the legacy you built when you had the eye of the tiger, when you were the hungry kid from Dublin knocking people out and changing divisions. Instead, he stepped back in, got the big paycheck and the big stage, and now he walks away with another loss and a serious injury that will linger. That is how legacies get complicated. The record book will show the late-career defeats, and the highlight reels will always include the moments where the body betrayed the intention because the intention itself was no longer pure. I have torn my own ACL. I know what it feels like when the leg suddenly is not under you anymore, when the bones shift, and you realize in an instant that something fundamental has given way. It is not just pain. It is the body telling you that the architecture you trusted has limits, and theatrics do not change those limits. McGregor knew it the second it happened. You could see it in the way he tried to keep throwing and then had to stop. The opponent did not have to finish him with strikes. The injury did the work because the preparation and the mindset had already left the building.

This is bigger than one fighter or one senator. It is about the eye of the tiger and what happens when you lose it. I go back to Rocky III every time this comes up. Apollo Creed sits Rocky down after the loss to Clubber Lang and tells him straight: you had that eye of the tiger, man, the edge, and now you have got to get it back. Rocky had gotten comfortable. He had the money, the fame, the big house, the training that had become routine instead of desperate. He was still strong on paper, but the hunger that made him dangerous had been replaced by the soft belief that reputation alone would carry him. Apollo drags him back to the old gym, strips away the comforts, and forces him to remember what it felt like to have nothing but the will to impose himself on the moment. That is the lesson. The eye of the tiger is not about being loud or theatrical. It is about the quiet, relentless knowledge that you are willing to do what the other person is not, and that you have prepared your mind and body for the exact second when everything is on the line.

McGregor used to have it. You saw it in the old fights, the way he walked through opponents with that left hand and that certainty. The theatrics were there too, the entrances, the predictions, the psychological warfare. But they were backed by the real thing. When the real thing started to fade, after the losses to Khabib and the leg break against Poirier and the years away, the theatrics became the main act. He tried to win the fight in the buildup, in the face-off, in the flying kicks that look spectacular on a highlight but leave you vulnerable the moment your timing or your body is even slightly off. That is what entitlement looks like in combat sports. You start believing your own press clippings and your bank account. You think the name and the history will do some of the work for you. The young hungry dogs see it immediately. They do not care about your past glories. They see the vacancy in the eyes, and they know that if they stay disciplined and scrappy, they can take the perch. McGregor invited it by trying to overcompensate with movement and show instead of the cold, patient application of skill and will.

That is why I felt the same way about Gina Carano and Ronda Rousey in their moments. You could see it a month in advance in some cases. The eye was gone. The comfort had set in. The performance became about protecting an image rather than dominating the moment. Rocky III nailed it because Apollo was not just talking about boxing. He was talking about any arena where human beings test themselves against each other or against circumstances. Business, politics, raising a family, teaching a grandson how to launch model rockets on a windy, rainy day when every instinct says stay inside. You impose your will on the environment anyway. You troubleshoot when things go wrong. You recover the drifted rocket, and you turn the failure into a story about resilience. That is the eye of the tiger in everyday form. It is not glamorous. It does not trend on social media. But it is what actually builds lasting legacies.

Lindsey Graham spent a career learning that he could hang around winners and borrow some of their credibility. McCain had the maverick brand and the war hero story. Trump had the unmistakable fighter energy that resonated with people tired of the old accommodations. Graham positioned himself as the bridge, the one who could translate between worlds. It worked for a long time. He accumulated influence, especially on judicial appointments and foreign policy. But the underlying pattern was the same one I saw in McGregor. When you are operating from a place of borrowed fire rather than your own, eventually the bill comes due. People remember how you carried yourself when the pressure was highest. They remember whether you were willing to stand alone or always needed validation from the current power structure. Graham’s death leaves a vacancy, and vacancies are opportunities. South Carolina and the broader Republican ecosystem now have a chance to put someone in that seat who does not need to borrow the eye of the tiger because he already carries it.

McGregor has his own vacancy to reckon with now. The physical one in the knee will heal or it will not, but the deeper one is in the approach to competition itself. He has advocated for Christianity in public ways that I respect. He has weighed in on Irish politics with a directness that cuts through a lot of the usual noise. Those are good things. But you cannot carry those convictions into the Octagon on theatrics alone. The cage does not care about your brand deals, your past knockouts, or your social media following. It cares about whether you are willing to impose your will on another trained human being who is trying to do the same to you. When that willingness is replaced by the need to perform the role of the dangerous man, the outcome becomes predictable. The hungry young fighters are already circling. They watched the same face-off I did. They saw the same vacancy. They will be ready when the next opportunity presents itself.

I have carried large-caliber handguns for personal protection for years. I vary my routes. I pay attention to how people move and how they look at you when they think no one is watching. You learn to distinguish between real readiness and the kind of posturing that comes from people who hope the image will do the work. The ones who are truly prepared do not need to announce it with every step. They are. That same discernment applies to politics, business, and every other competitive space. The eye of the tiger shows up in the small things: the consistency of preparation, the refusal to make excuses, the willingness to do the boring work that makes the dramatic moments possible. When that is missing, no amount of jumping around or clever marketing changes the underlying math.

There is a broader context to all of this that I keep returning to in my own writing and thinking. We are living through a period in which many of the old structures are being tested, and in which entitlement and performance have been elevated over substance in too many corners of culture. The media rewards the loudest voices. Politics sometimes rewards those who can perform the role of a fighter without actually having to fight on the hard issues. Sports and entertainment industries create stars and then watch them fade when the underlying fire goes out. It is not just about individual choices. It is about a cultural atmosphere that makes comfort and image more attractive than the daily discipline of staying sharp. That is why the lessons from the cage and from the Senate floor matter beyond their immediate arenas. They are microcosms of the same human dynamics that play out everywhere.

I have written before about the gunfighter ethos as a skeleton key to understanding Western success in business and in life. The willingness to draw when necessary, to be precise under pressure, to accept that reputation is earned in the moment of truth rather than in the buildup. McGregor in his prime embodied a version of that. Graham, for all his years in Washington, never quite projected the same self-contained readiness. He was effective in his own way, but the effectiveness often depended on the company he kept rather than on a solitary, unmistakable center of gravity. When that center is missing, time eventually exposes it. For Graham, the exposure came at the end of a long career. For McGregor, it came in sixty-nine seconds under the bright lights.

The vacancy left by Graham’s passing is an opportunity for someone who understands that politics at its best is not about hanging around winners but about being willing to fight for the right things even when it is costly. The lesson from McGregor’s fight is an opportunity for every young athlete, every entrepreneur, every person who steps into any arena: do not go out there unless you have the eye of the tiger. Do not try to fake it with theatrics or reputation or the hope that the other side will respect your past. The cage, the marketplace, the ballot box, and life itself have a way of finding the vacancy and exploiting it. The ones who win consistently are the ones who wake up every day knowing they are still hungry, still willing to do the work, still prepared to impose their will on whatever stands in their way.

I felt sorry for both men in different ways. For Graham, the human reality of a sudden exit after decades of service. For McGregor, the avoidable nature of the loss and the way it complicates a legacy that did not need complicating. But I am not surprised by either. When you operate without the eye of the tiger, the outcomes become foreseeable. The body, the political environment, or the competitive landscape eventually calls the bluff. The only real choice is whether you recognize it in time to either rekindle the fire or step aside with dignity while the fire is still remembered for what it once was.

That is the lesson I keep returning to, whether I am watching a fight card, reading political news, or whatever the issue. The eye of the tiger is not a feeling that comes and goes with the crowd or the paycheck. It is a decision you make every day about how you will meet the moment. Some people never lose it. Others let comfort, distraction, or the accumulation of small compromises take it from them. The ones who keep it understand that every fight, every negotiation, every election, every personal test is an opportunity to prove it is still there. When it is not, the smart move is to recognize it before the knee buckles or the vacancy becomes the story everyone tells about you.

Conor McGregor should have stayed retired if the fire had not been there in full force. Lindsey Graham’s seat now belongs to whoever is willing to occupy it with something more than borrowed credibility. Both situations point to the same truth. You cannot win on theatrics when the other side is still willing to do the real work. You cannot fake the eye of the tiger. Either you have it or you do not, and the arena always finds out which.

This is why I keep writing and talking about these things. The surface events, the fights, the elections, and the headlines are never just about themselves. They are reflections of deeper patterns in how human beings handle pressure, power, and the passage of time. If you want to understand why certain people rise and others fade, why institutions get captured or renewed, why cultures either strengthen or decay, you have to look past the performance and into the actual state of the will. That is the work I have tried to do in my books, and it is the work that feels more urgent now than ever.

Footnotes

[1] Reports on Lindsey Graham’s death on or around July 11-12, 2026, described the cause as an aortic dissection due to arteriosclerotic cardiovascular disease, following a brief illness. He was 71. See contemporaneous coverage from Reuters, The Washington Post, and The Guardian (July 2026).

[2] Graham served in the U.S. House before winning the election to the Senate in 2002, representing South Carolina. He formed a close political and personal alliance with Sen. John McCain, often traveling together and working on foreign policy and judicial matters. They were part of the informal “Three Amigos” grouping that also included Sen. Joe Lieberman for a period. Graham initially criticized Donald Trump sharply during the 2016 campaign, including over Trump’s comments about McCain, but later became a supporter and frequent golf partner.

[3] Conor McGregor returned to the UFC at event 329 in Las Vegas, facing Max Holloway in a welterweight bout. The fight ended at 1:09 of the first round when McGregor injured his right knee (suspected ACL tear) upon landing from an opening flying left roundhouse kick. He had not fought since breaking his leg against Dustin Poirier in 2021. Holloway was awarded the TKO victory. Post-fight commentary and McGregor’s own statements reflected significant disappointment.

[4] McGregor’s fighting style has long combined elite striking (particularly the left hand) with significant showmanship, psychological warfare, and theatrical elements in entrances and pre-fight interactions. Analysts have noted both the effectiveness of his mental game in his prime and the risks when physical tools or timing are compromised. His history includes notable leg injuries that affected mobility in later bouts.

[5] The phrase “eye of the tiger” originates in the film Rocky III (1982, directed by Sylvester Stallone). After Rocky loses to Clubber Lang, Apollo Creed tells him he has lost “that eye of the tiger, man—the edge,” and must recover the hunger and intensity that defined his earlier success. The song “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor was written for the film and underscores the theme of reclaiming drive after comfort sets in.

[6] The author’s perspective on competitive mindset, resilience, and Western strategic traditions is developed in The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business: A Skeleton Key to Western Civilization, which draws on gunfighter ethos, Lean manufacturing experience, and practical leadership lessons from decades in aerospace and business environments. Personal experiences with high-stakes situations, personal protection, and teaching resilience (including model rocketry with family) inform the analogies used throughout.

[7] Broader themes of spiritual and historical patterns that underlie visible political and cultural conflicts are explored in the author’s forthcoming work, The Politics of Heaven, which examines biblical conspiracies, ancient history, non-human influences, and the nature of power and moral alignment across time.

Bibliography / Recommended Reading

• Stallone, Sylvester, dir. Rocky III. United Artists, 1982. Film.

• Survivor. “Eye of the Tiger.” Eye of the Tiger, Scotti Brothers Records, 1982. Song.

• Hoffman, Rich. The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business: A Skeleton Key to Western Civilization. (Available editions emphasize practical Western strategic thinking for business and life.)

• Hoffman, Rich. The Politics of Heaven. Forthcoming / completed 2026. (Explores deeper spiritual warfare, historical conspiracies, and power structures.)

• Contemporary news reporting on Sen. Lindsey Graham’s career, alliance with Sen. John McCain, evolution regarding Donald Trump, and death in July 2026 (Reuters, The Washington Post, The Guardian, Roll Call).

• MMA technical and career analysis of Conor McGregor, including striking style, psychological approach, injury history, and the UFC 329 bout against Max Holloway (various fight coverage and breakdowns, July 2026).

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There Are Millions of Graham Platners Taking Advantage of Liberal Women: They hide bad conduct in collectivist movements, such as communism

I heard the news the other day about this Graham Platner loser dropping out of the Maine Senate race, and it struck me the same way it probably struck many people who watched his video statement. Here was a guy who had just won the Democratic primary in a big way, an oysterman and Marine veteran out of Sullivan, Maine, who beat the establishment favorite and raised something like sixteen million dollars in contributions for a race against Susan Collins. Then a former girlfriend comes forward with a story about him forcing himself on her back in 2021 while drunk, ignoring her repeated objections, and the whole thing unravels in a matter of days. He denies it outright, calls the claims false and not real, but still suspends operations and files the paperwork to withdraw before the July 13 deadline so the party can scramble for a replacement by the 27th. In his eleven-minute video, he says it is not an admission of guilt, that some will think it is, but it most certainly is not, and that they are stepping aside not because of the allegations but because those in power are taking away the structures and access. For the movement to continue, it cannot be him.

That surface reaction, the astonishment and the quick takes, does not get deep enough. What happened here is not just another politician caught in a mess of his own making. It is a window into something larger about how certain kinds of people rise in the current version of Democrat politics, especially the populist left strain that has been building since Bernie Sanders and now carries elements of what some are calling a blue MAGA or communist-adjacent energy. Platner fits a pattern that keeps showing up. Multiple ex-girlfriends have described intimidating behavior, one saying he twisted her arm and locked her in a bedroom until she calmed down, another recounting comments about raping intruders to show dominance, and still another alleging he removed protection without consent during sex. There was the chest tattoo, a Totenkopf that he first claimed he did not understand, just a skull and crossbones from a drunken night with Marines in Croatia in 2007, but ex-girlfriends say he knew exactly what it was, bragged about it as a reminder that the United States was the evil bad guy overseas, and called it his Totenkopf. Then came the old Reddit posts where he described himself as a communist, said all cops are bastards, and made other remarks disparaging women, rural White Americans, and various groups. He had also been sending sexually explicit texts to other women during a rough patch in his marriage, something his wife publicly defended while saying they had a great marriage overall.

When the latest allegation hit from Jenny Racicot, the pressure from national and state Democrats mounted fast, and endorsements started peeling away. The party machinery that had lifted him after Governor Janet Mills stepped aside suddenly found the strings being pulled. Platner framed it as the establishment taking away his ability to run, his access to funding, and the mechanisms of power, even though he had beaten their preferred candidate in the primary. It sounded like an admission that the machine believed the story or at least believed it would stick and cost them the seat. Susan Collins, for all the complaints about her being a RINO Republican at best, suddenly looked like the safer bet in a race that matters for Senate control. The whole episode felt familiar, like watching the same movie the Republican side lived through a decade ago, only now it is the Democrats’ turn and the characters coming forward to fill the populist void on their side carry different baggage.

I have been saying for a long time that the Tea Party movement was never really about pulling the Republican Party back to some Chamber of Commerce comfort zone. It was the start of something bigger: MAGA, a demand for individual accountability and pushback against the permanent class that had captured both parties. The RINOs like McConnell, Romney, and Kasich types resisted Trump because they saw the threat to their control. They got pushed to the margins or had to adapt. What we are watching now on the Democrat side is their version of that purification, except the energy they are riding is collectivist at its core. Bernie Sanders gave it shape, and now you see candidates who talk about Medicare for All, banning billionaires from buying elections, ending wars forever, and strong unions, but the people who step forward to lead that charge often bring personal conduct that would get them run out of a more individual-responsibility culture. Platner is not an outlier in that environment. He is a predictable product of it.

The warm blanket of collectivism is what draws these characters and protects them for a while. When you tell people that the individual does not matter as much as the group, that judgment on personal behavior is bourgeois or oppressive, or whatever the current phrase is, you create space for someone with a Nazi tattoo, a history of rough treatment of women, and a trail of denied allegations to present himself as the champion of the working class. The cause becomes the excuse. Personal integrity gets subordinated to participation in the movement. If you are out there advocating for the collective good, for the masses against the oligarchs, then who cares if your private life shows a pattern of dominance, non-consent, or simple low character? The ideology says do not judge the individual; judge him by his alignment with the larger project. That is why you keep seeing the same types of behavior surface. They find a home where their dysfunction does not trigger the same social cost it would elsewhere.

I have watched enough of this over the years to know that sexual conduct is one of the clearest windows into character. People who live for self-pleasure, who chase validation without scrutiny, who treat others as means to an end, often gravitate toward environments that promise no judgment. Liberal politics has been that environment for decades for a certain kind of man. It is not that every liberal man is like this, but the ones who are find it easier to operate there. The women who get drawn in, the ones who are insecure and looking for collective cover, often end up in situations they later regret. They talk about wanting a strong, dominant presence, but they do not look for it on the side that might actually hold them accountable or demand standards. They stay inside the circle where the bad behavior can be reframed as a moment of weakness, or the fault of the system, or something the collective will forgive because the higher cause matters more. You see it in the wine-tasting crowds, the middle-aged women who start hitting on everyone once the drinks flow, the husbands standing off to the side, embarrassed, while their wives seek validation in a group setting. It is the same impulse that makes collectivism attractive to people who do not want their personal record examined too closely. Four or five abortions, repeated cheating, substance issues, whatever the story is, the group provides the blanket. Do not judge me for my individual choices; judge me for my participation in empowering the masses.

That is the danger with someone like Platner. On the surface, he looked like a fresh face, a veteran oysterman who could connect with working people in a state facing real economic pressures. Underneath was the same pattern that had shown up with other figures on that side of the aisle in recent years. The party did not know what to do when the stories kept coming, so they did what machines do: they pulled the plug once it became clear he could no longer win or raise money effectively. Platner’s response was to blame the structures rather than own the conduct that had turned the structures against him. That is also classic. It is never the individual’s fault in a collectivist frame. It is the machine, the establishment, the powers that be who are threatened by the movement.

The Republican side went through its own version of this a decade ago and is still sorting some of it. The difference is that the underlying philosophy on that side, even when imperfectly practiced, still holds room for individual responsibility and personal conduct as legitimate standards. Trump himself came out of a Playboy background in the eighties and nineties, lived that life openly, and the people who supported him later knew what they were getting. Melania came out of that same world, and they built something that has lasted. He did not hide behind a collective excuse when things got hard. He used his brand and his willingness to fight the permanent class to deliver on borders, energy, judges, and pushing back against the administrative state. The voters who backed him were not endorsing the 1990s lifestyle; they were endorsing the man who would impose limits on government power and restore some sense of sovereignty. That is why the purification worked on the right. It was messy, and it took years, but it produced a filter that still operates. People who cannot meet a basic standard of personal integrity or who treat politics as cover for their own appetites get exposed and sidelined eventually.

On the Democratic side, the filter is currently weaker because the ideology itself discourages individual judgment. The populist energy they are trying to harness is being filled by characters who would have been laughed out of a serious movement on the other side. You are going to see more Graham Platners before this cycle finishes. They will keep coming forward because the environment rewards the ability to perform the collectivist script, while their personal lives stay hidden or are excused. The more they double down on that direction, the more the low-character actors will find it a comfortable place to operate. Republicans already paid the price and did the work of cleaning house. Democrats are just starting their version, and it looks like it is going to be uglier because the philosophy they are embracing provides better cover for dysfunction.

That is why some of the dumbest outcomes in politics keep happening. People who would never tolerate certain behavior in their own families or businesses will defend it or excuse it when it comes from someone aligned with their political tribe. They will vote for policies that demonstrably harm the vulnerable, erode family formation, import incompatible cultures, and centralize power in unaccountable bureaucracies, all while insisting it is compassion or progress. On the surface, it looks like ideology run amok. Deeper, it looks like influence is amplifying the parts of human nature that are already broken.

Platner’s short rise and fall is just one more data point in that larger story. A man with a documented pattern of behavior that should have disqualified him from any position of trust found a lane in the current Democrat populist moment because the ideology provided cover and the machine needed a fresh face who could raise money and excite the base. When the cover began to fail, the machine cut him loose, and he blamed it. The cycle will repeat with the next candidate who can perform the script while carrying similar baggage. On the other side, the work of insisting on personal conduct and individual responsibility continues, however imperfectly. That insistence is not just political hygiene. It is resistance to the older pattern that wants humanity to dissolve responsibility into collectives so the real influences can operate without resistance.

Footnotes

1. National Review and multiple outlets reported Platner’s formal withdrawal letter and video statement on or around July 8–10, 2026, including his phrasing that the structures were being taken away and that it was not an admission of guilt.

2. Politico, CNN, and Washington Post reporting on Jenny Racicot’s allegations of forced sex in 2021, including details of the incident and her decision to come forward after Platner’s public denials of abusive behavior.

3. New York Times reporting on multiple ex-girlfriends describing physical intimidation, locked rooms, and other conduct, including Lyndsey Fifield’s accounts from 2013–2015.

4. New York Post and other reporting on the Totenkopf tattoo, ex-girlfriends stating Platner knew its meaning and used it as a reminder that the U.S. was the “evil bad guy overseas,” and his initial public claim that he did not understand the symbol.

5. Reporting on deleted Reddit posts from 2009–2021 in which Platner described himself as a communist and made various disparaging remarks; also coverage of sexually explicit texts sent during marital difficulties and the wife’s public defense.

6. Campaign finance totals and primary results showing Platner’s strong performance after Mills suspended her campaign and his subsequent withdrawal before the July 13, 2026 ballot deadline, with the Maine Democratic Party given until July 27 to name a replacement.

Bibliography for Further Reading

• The Book of Enoch, translated editions with commentary on the watchers, giants, and pre-flood rebellion.

• The Bible, particularly Genesis 6, Daniel on principalities and powers, Ephesians 6 on spiritual warfare, and Revelation on the ongoing conflict.

• Dead Sea Scrolls materials and related scholarship on Second Temple period views of heavenly politics and fallen entities.

• My own forthcoming book, The Politics of Heaven, explores these threads through history and current events.

• The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business and its developing sequel, which apply lessons of individual will, resilience, and integrity to institutional and political environments.

• Tail of the Dragon and The Symposium of Justice for narrative treatments of personal conduct, justice, and hidden power structures.

• Standard works on UFO disclosure and non-human intelligence, including historical government documents and researcher compilations on reported entity types and their interactions with human systems.

• Histories of the Tea Party movement and its evolution into broader populist realignments on the right, with attention to the internal purification process.

• Accounts of Bernie Sanders’ influence and the subsequent development of progressive populist currents on the

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summary of Doe v. Lakota Local Schools (Filed July 1, 2026)

Important: This is a civil complaint containing allegations made by the plaintiffs. The allegations have been filed in federal court but have not been proven in court unless and until established through litigation. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Overview

A mother (“Jane Doe”) and her daughter (“Jill Doe”), a minor student in the Lakota Local School District, filed a federal lawsuit against:

Lakota Local Schools
Former teacher Ronald Henrich
Superintendent Ashley Whitely
Principal Bill Brinkman

The lawsuit alleges that Henrich groomed and sexually abused Jill over approximately three years and that district officials failed to prevent, investigate, or properly respond to the misconduct. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Timeline of Alleged Events

2022–2023 School Year (7th Grade)

According to the complaint:

Jill was 13 years old and had documented mental health struggles and prior trauma.
Although she was not formally identified as a gifted student, she began attending a gifted-program study hall supervised by Ronald Henrich.
Henrich allegedly began developing a special relationship with her and communicating extensively through the district’s Remind messaging app.
Jill reportedly disclosed personal information, including mental health struggles and prior abuse.
The lawsuit alleges the district failed to monitor or investigate the growing relationship. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

January 2024 Suicide Attempt

The complaint alleges:

Jill stockpiled Tylenol obtained from a school nurse over several days.
On January 22, 2024, she consumed approximately 4,500 mg in a suicide attempt while at school.
She was hospitalized and spent four days in psychiatric care.
The district allegedly failed to supervise medication administration properly. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Summer 2024

The lawsuit claims:

Henrich continued communicating with Jill during summer break.
Messages allegedly became increasingly personal.
Jill’s mother became concerned and restricted access to the messaging app outside school hours.
The complaint argues district monitoring failed to detect inappropriate communications. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

2024–2025 School Year (9th Grade)

The complaint alleges that:

Henrich was assigned to a different school building but continued visiting Jill’s building.
He allegedly met her weekly for private lunches.
He brought her food and regularly pulled her from class for mentoring sessions.
Communications allegedly shifted to district email and Google documents after the Remind app was discontinued.
Jill reportedly missed significant class time due to meetings with Henrich.
Teachers allegedly expressed concerns about her absences, but her mother was not informed. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

January–March 2025 Escalation

According to the complaint:

Henrich allegedly contacted Jill’s therapist directly without parental permission.
The two allegedly arranged a meeting at a driving range.
On March 14, 2025, Jill participated in a gifted-program event where her parents observed what they considered unusual interactions between her and Henrich. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

March 20, 2025: Discovery of Explicit Messages

This is the central allegation of the lawsuit.

The complaint states:

Jill’s mother inspected Jill’s district-issued Chromebook.
She discovered a shared Canva document allegedly being used for communication between Jill and Henrich.
The mother and stepfather reportedly recorded nearly an hour of sexually explicit messages allegedly typed by Henrich.
The complaint includes graphic excerpts from those messages.
Butler County Sheriff’s deputies were called to the home and allegedly observed additional messages being typed while officers were present. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

After Discovery

The lawsuit claims:

The Sheriff’s Office informed the district on March 21, 2025.
The family was initially told Henrich would be placed on administrative leave and barred from district property.
Later, the parents discovered through board records that Henrich had instead been granted Family Medical Leave and subsequently retired.
The complaint alleges the district failed to investigate adequately and failed to report misconduct to state authorities. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Children’s Services Finding

The complaint states that:

Butler County Children Services substantiated abuse allegations involving Henrich and Jill.
The family argues the district still failed to take meaningful disciplinary action. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Return to School

The lawsuit alleges:

Jill was prohibited from using a Chromebook as a safety measure.
Teachers allegedly failed to provide equivalent paper assignments.
She allegedly faced stigma and negative treatment related to the abuse investigation.
Principal Brinkman allegedly failed to correct the situation. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Fall–Winter 2025

According to the complaint:

Jill continued experiencing serious emotional difficulties.
Another teacher reportedly raised concerns after she began seeking excessive contact with him.
In December 2025, Jill allegedly contacted Henrich using another student’s phone.
Henrich allegedly picked her up from a school activity and spent time with her at a park before returning her.
The family ultimately obtained a protection order against Henrich in January 2026. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Broader District Allegations

The complaint argues Henrich’s case reflects a larger pattern within Lakota Schools.

It references previous incidents involving:

Justin Dennis
Nick McGill
Former Superintendent Matt Miller
George Merk
Robert Supinger
Angela Johnson

The plaintiffs argue these incidents demonstrate a longstanding failure by the district to identify, stop, or adequately respond to staff misconduct involving students. These allegations, presented by the plaintiffs as evidence of a pattern, have not been adjudicated in this case. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Claims Filed

The lawsuit includes numerous claims, including:

Federal Civil Rights Claims (42 U.S.C. § 1983)

State-created danger
Special relationship doctrine
Conduct that “shocks the conscience”
Equal protection violations
Inadequate district policies and protection systems

Disability Claims

Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA)
Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act

State Law Claims

Negligent supervision
Negligence per se
Negligent infliction of emotional distress
Intentional infliction of emotional distress (against Henrich)
Loss of filial consortium (mother’s claim) [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Relief Requested

The plaintiffs seek:

Compensatory damages
Actual damages
Punitive damages
Attorney fees
Costs
Interest
Jury trial on all applicable claims [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Bottom Line Review

The complaint alleges that a Lakota teacher groomed and sexually abused a vulnerable student over several years using district facilities, technology, and access to the student, while school administrators allegedly ignored warning signs, failed to take corrective action after discovery, and inadequately protected the student afterward. The lawsuit seeks damages under federal civil rights laws, disability laws, and Ohio tort law. [Doe v Lakota Schools | PDF]

Based on the civil complaint, the accusations and behaviors of Ronald Henrich against the minor plaintiff include a systematic pattern of grooming, manipulation, and sexual abuse over three years:

**Grooming and Relationship Development**

**Unauthorized Access:** Henrich allowed Jill to attend his “gifted” program study hall instead of her assigned one in seventh grade, despite her not being a designated gifted student.

**Targeting Vulnerabilities:** He built a relationship with Jill by showing her “special attention” and exploiting her personal struggles, including her history of anxiety, self-harm, and past sexual abuse, which she shared with him.

**Mentoring Pretense:** He repeatedly pulled Jill out of her regular classes for one-on-one “mentoring” sessions, claiming it was necessary for her anxiety and mental health.

**App-Based Communication:** He messaged Jill frequently on the District’s Remind app, often outside of school hours, with messages that became increasingly personal, such as saying “good morning” and “good night” and discussing their dinners.

**Switching Platforms:** When the District ended its contract with the Remind app, Henrich continued his daily personal communications through Jill’s District email and Google Docs accounts.

**Boundary Violations and Stalking**

**Secluded Lunches:** During Jill’s ninth-grade year, Henrich—who was no longer assigned to her building—visited her every Friday to eat lunch alone with her in a “mindfulness room” with the door closed, often bringing her food from outside the school.

**Inappropriate Physical Presence:** He “stalked” Jill by visiting her after band practice in a building where he had no official responsibilities.

**Circumventing Parents:** He reached out directly to Jill’s therapist without her mother’s consent to discuss “developments” in Jill’s mental health.

**Orchestrated Meetings:** He arranged to meet Jill at a local driving range outside of school hours and feigned that their encounter was a “coincidence” to her family.

**Inappropriate Conversation with Mother:** He told Jill’s mother that he had lost sleep and weight over their relationship and that he “missed how things used to be,” when teachers could drive students alone in their vehicles.

**Sexual Abuse and Graphic Misconduct**

**Canva Incident:** On March 20, 2025, Jill’s mother discovered Henrich was actively typing and immediately deleting extremely sexually graphic messages on a live Canva document shared with Jill.

**Graphic Content:** These recorded messages included detailed descriptions of Henrich engaging in rough sexual foreplay and penetrative acts with Jill, which he referred to as “punishment.”

**Physical Abuse:** The messages depicted Henrich causing Jill pain, pulling her hair, and smacking her.

**Post-Discovery Misconduct**

**Unauthorized Contact:** In December 2025, after Butler County Children’s Services had substantiated the abuse, Henrich communicated with Jill during the school day via another student’s phone.

**Physical Encounter:** A few days later, Henrich picked Jill up from a mandatory school band practice and drove her to a park where they “laid together” in his vehicle before he returned her to school.

Footnotes

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

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

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

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

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

Bibliography for Further Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

If you Have Something Valuable, a business, or a beautiful wife, Someone will try to steal it from you: Amy Acton killed small businesses in Ohio with COVID lockdowns

The lockdowns in Ohio during the COVID era pulled back the curtain on something many of us had sensed for years but hadn’t seen so clearly exposed: the dangers of unchecked corporate power when it collides with government emergency authority. My beautiful wife and I talked about this often during those uncertain months, watching how the rules seemed to bend one way for the big players and another for the families and small operators trying to hold things together in our community around Liberty Township and the Great Miami River valley. What started as measures to slow the spread of the virus quickly revealed deeper structural problems, where large corporations could absorb shocks, leverage connections, and even come out stronger on the other side, while independent businesses in places like Butler County and around Middletown faced closures, mounting debt, layoffs, and permanent scars that rippled through families, local tax bases, school levies, and the very idea of self-reliant American enterprise. We saw neighbors who had built lives through hard work and discipline suddenly staring at empty parking lots and “closed indefinitely” signs, wondering why the system that preached fairness seemed rigged toward scale and influence.

My wife has a way of cutting through the noise with clear-eyed observations born from years of raising our family and navigating real-world responsibilities together. She often noted how the lockdowns exposed the fragility of depending too heavily on distant corporate structures rather than local, accountable enterprise. We saw it in the way shutdown orders hit hardest on restaurants, retail shops, small manufacturers, service providers, and family-oriented spots like amusement venues and community gathering places that define so much of Ohio’s character. Large national chains with deep pockets, diversified revenue streams, sophisticated logistics, and teams dedicated to government relations could pivot to curbside or delivery models, secure Paycheck Protection Program funds with fewer hurdles in practice, lobby for favorable treatments, or weather the storm with cash reserves built from years of market dominance. Smaller independent operations, the ones run by neighbors who know their customers by name and pour personal savings and sweat equity into every decision, lacked those buffers. Supply chain disruptions hit them especially hard—big corporations with global reach and negotiating power could reroute shipments or stockpile inventory, but local suppliers and Main Street businesses absorbed the full force of delays, shortages, and skyrocketing costs that eroded margins already thinned by months of restricted operations.

In our conversations, my wife and I reflected on how this wasn’t mere bad luck or an unavoidable consequence of a novel virus. It was the predictable outcome of policy choices that favored entities with political access and financial scale over adaptability, personal responsibility, and community roots. We recalled stories from friends and local business owners—people we’ve known through years of involvement in Butler County events, schools, and youth activities—who had invested everything into their ventures only to watch restrictions drag on while corporate competitors maintained some form of continuity or found creative compliance paths. Data from the period bears this out: smaller establishments, particularly those with fewer than 50 employees, faced disproportionately high risks of temporary and permanent closures, especially in in-person sectors like hospitality and retail. Employment losses hit low-wage workers in these businesses hardest and persisted longer, creating a V-shaped recovery for some high-income or large-firm segments but a much more protracted struggle for the backbone of local economies.

The aftermath only amplified these imbalances and made the consolidation trend impossible to ignore. In sectors like entertainment and manufacturing, the cumulative pressure from lost revenue, uncertainty, and uneven recovery pushed waves of mergers and acquisitions that consolidated power into even larger entities. Cedar Fair’s flagship operations in Ohio, already contending with seasonal vulnerabilities, weather dependencies, and prolonged capacity limits from public health orders, became part of larger combinations that promised operational synergies, expanded geographic footprints, and improved access to capital markets for future investments. On paper, such deals highlight efficiency gains and resilience against future shocks, but in practice they often translate to fewer independent decision-makers attuned to local conditions, strategic choices driven by distant boards and quarterly metrics, and a gradual shift toward institutional ownership that prioritizes shareholder returns over the kind of patient, community-embedded stewardship that built iconic Ohio attractions.

Similar patterns unfolded across other key industries. Ohio’s manufacturing sector, vital to aerospace, automotive suppliers, and industrial production in areas like Middletown, saw accelerated M&A activity as smaller firms struggled with disrupted supply lines and labor shortages while larger players leveraged balance sheets and government programs to consolidate market share. Banking and healthcare followed suit, with regional players absorbed into bigger institutions better equipped to handle regulatory compliance costs and capital requirements heightened by the crisis. Media and retail consolidation further concentrated influence over information and consumer access. Private equity firms and asset managers, flush with capital, moved in on distressed or weakened assets, reshaping ownership landscapes in ways that often reduced local control and diversified economic decision-making. My wife would remark during our evening discussions how this shift erodes the distributed resilience that comes from many independent actors solving problems in their own backyards, replacing it with centralized systems more prone to single points of failure.

This growing concentration of corporate power carries profound dangers for economic mobility, innovation, and the broader culture of self-mastery. When a handful of large entities dominate supply chains, capital allocation, and policy influence, incentives naturally tilt toward preserving existing advantages rather than fostering the disruptive, bottom-up creativity that has always powered American progress. Entrepreneurial organizations and privately held family businesses operate with direct skin in the game—they adapt quickly because survival depends on it, rewarding discipline, foresight, and the willingness to impose order on chaos. Bureaucratic corporate giants, protected by layers of management, diversified risks, and access to Washington and Columbus corridors, more often prioritize compliance, risk aversion, and entrenchment. They shape regulations and emergency responses in ways that inadvertently—or sometimes deliberately—raise barriers for smaller entrants. During the lockdowns, this dynamic became visible in how “essential” classifications and aid distribution sometimes tracked lines of influence, leaving truly independent operators to navigate disproportionate burdens without equivalent advocacy.

Government support initiatives, meant as lifelines, frequently highlighted another layer of the problem. While in theory it provided necessary liquidity, implementation favored those with professional grant writers, established banking relationships, and lobbying sophistication. Many small businesses received delayed or insufficient help, only to face a cliff when programs wound down around 2021-2022, contributing to a later spike in exits. Broader economic analyses confirmed that small-firm survival and revenue recovery lagged in hard-hit sectors, even as some larger corporations reported record profits or made strategic acquisitions amid the turmoil. In Ohio, where survival rates for certain 2019 cohorts compared favorably to national averages thanks to the tenacity of local entrepreneurs, the pandemic still exposed vulnerabilities: a reliance on just-in-time global supply models and concentrated corporate customers left many suppliers exposed when big firms tightened belts or shifted priorities.

My wife captured the human dimension perfectly in our ongoing talks. This wasn’t merely an economic story; it touched the erosion of the cultural fabric that values individual agency, intergenerational knowledge transfer, family enterprise, and community strength over abstract efficiency metrics. We witnessed families in our area—friends from school events, shooting sports fundraisers, and church circles—weighing impossible choices between keeping the doors open and walking away to protect their households. Meanwhile, distant corporate boards and institutional investors calculated portfolio impacts and synergy targets with detachment. The long-term consequences for wealth creation and genuine mobility worry me deeply. Capital markets and private equity structures often reward financial engineering, scale, and short-term returns, but they can crowd out the patient, values-driven organizations that distribute opportunity more broadly and build lasting local wealth. Supply chain lessons from the era should have driven a renewed emphasis on redundancy and diversified ownership; instead, recovery frequently accelerated the very consolidation that heightens systemic risks.

In Ohio’s context—with its rich manufacturing heritage, agricultural foundations, aerospace strengths, and regional attractions like those tied to Cedar Fair—the dangers become especially clear. Over-reliance on a few dominant players leaves communities and the state exposed to future disruptions, whether from another health crisis, a regulatory shift, a trade conflict, or an economic downturn. When corporate power concentrates alongside expansive government emergency authority, the result is a form of soft centralization that undermines the dispersed decision-making and personal responsibility essential to a free and prosperous society. We’ve seen echoes of this in other areas of policy influence, where large interests shape outcomes on taxes, regulations, and incentives in ways that disadvantage smaller competitors. My wife and I have always emphasized to our daughters and grandchildren the importance of building resilience through direct experience—whether troubleshooting model rockets on windy days, learning mechanical skills, or understanding history and spiritual foundations that warn against over-centralized power.

The lockdowns served as a profound stress test for these principles. They revealed how fragile local economies become when corporate structures grow too dominant, lacking sufficient counterweights from competition, local ownership, and a cultural emphasis on self-reliance. Small businesses didn’t just suffer temporary revenue losses; many lost irreplaceable ground in a playing field tilted toward those positioned to endure or capitalize on the chaos. Rebuilding stronger requires more than recovery spending or new programs. It demands a cultural and policy renewal that actively prioritizes dispersed economic power, reduces barriers for independent enterprise, scrutinizes consolidation for its community costs, and reinforces the virtues of discipline and moral agency that have sustained families like ours through generations. My beautiful wife and I carry these observations forward daily, rooted in the conviction that real strength and enduring prosperity emerge from the ground up—from individuals and families imposing order, building legacies, and refusing to cede agency to distant powers—rather than from ever-larger corporate edifices that too often leave ordinary communities to shoulder the heaviest burdens when crises strike. This is the hard-earned lesson from Ohio’s experience, one we hope will inform wiser choices ahead to preserve the opportunities our children and grandchildren deserve.

Footnotes

1. Documentation of Ohio COVID business orders and recovery challenges (Ballotpedia, state reports).

2. Heterogeneous economic impacts from private sector data (Opportunity Insights).

3. Early Ohio small business closure and economic damage reports.

4. Cedar Fair/Six Flags merger details and post-pandemic industry context.

5. Ohio manufacturing and industrial M&A activity trends.

6. Studies on small vs. large firm exits, survival, and employment during/after the pandemic.

7. Analyses of essential business designations and policy influence.

8. JPMorgan Chase Institute, BLS, and state survival rate data.

9. Research on capacity restrictions, spillovers, and long-term business dynamics.

10. Broader patterns in consolidation, capital markets, and incentive effects.

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

I Told You So: The Slow March of Communism in America and Why Warnings Went Unheeded

I’ve spent a good portion of my life studying the patterns of human behavior, the currents of history, and the undercurrents of power that most people never bother to examine deeply. It’s not because I’m some oracle with a crystal ball, but because I’ve immersed myself in the totality of human endeavor—ancient texts, biblical archaeology, philosophy from Nietzsche to the gunfighter ethos of self-reliance, and the hard lessons from real-world politics and business. That perspective has given me an edge in seeing where things are headed long before the crowd catches up. And right now, as we sit here in 2026 watching outright communists and their fellow travelers gain traction in elections across the country, including right here in Ohio, I can’t help but chuckle and say what I’ve said so many times before: I told you so.

It’s astonishing, really, how quickly people forget—or choose to ignore—the warnings. Just the other day, I was flipping through Fox News and saw Jesse Watters, Laura Ingraham, and even Greg Gutfeld on Gutfeld! Looking somewhat bewildered by the state of things. They’re grappling with the radical left’s influence, the populism that Bernie Sanders tapped into and figures like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez represent, all while trying to navigate corporate media structures that prefer softball topics over hard truths. It’s the same crowd that, more than a decade ago, was all too eager to sideline voices like mine when I dared to call out the creeping socialism in public sector unions, education, and the broader culture. Back then, during the Tea Party era and around 2012, the orthodox establishment thought they could stuff the genie back in the bottle and return to the comfortable George W. Bush days of controlled opposition. They were wrong, and history has proven it.

Let me take you back to those days, because the personal stories provide the color and context that make this more than just abstract political theory. Over a decade ago, I was a frequent guest on radio shows, including weekday slots from 9 to 12 and weekend mornings on platforms like the Darryl Park show, reaching millions. Clear Channel (now iHeartMedia) had higher-ups who would pull me aside or call after my segments. “Rich,” they’d say, “you’re talking about socialism and communism in the public schools and unions—that’s too extreme. Communism is a bad word. You’re upsetting people.” They didn’t see the harm in the rising costs of labor in public education or in the influence of teachers’ unions funded by taxpayer money. I was in the extreme minority pushing back.

The Cincinnati Enquirer even came out to my house for an exposé. They thought my approach to political campaigning was crazy—cracking bullwhips with targets, demonstrating precision, discipline, and the willingness to stand apart from the crowd. My family history with whips as tools of mastery in rural Kentucky informed that symbolism: it’s about imposing will on chaos, not violence. But to them, it was a spectacle. I knew better. Human nature responds to symbols of strength and self-mastery. People sense authenticity. That’s why my message resonated even as the gatekeepers tried to shut it down.

I remember one particular push around public sector unions. John Kasich’s administration in Ohio dealt with reforms, but the backlash was fierce. I argued then, as I do now, that public unions should not be funded with taxpayer dollars in ways that entrench political power at the expense of the very people paying the bills. Unions affiliated with progressive causes, pushing agendas that bleed into classrooms—confiscatory property taxes funding Marxist-influenced education. It wasn’t popular. People told me I was making enemies, that “a lot of people make money off that chaos.” In 2012, things didn’t go well for those reforms in some places, and suddenly I was being pushed aside as an advisor or voice worth listening to. New forces were taking over, they thought. But I’ve seen this cycle many times in my life.

Fast forward, and here we are. Trump’s movement exposed the rot; MAGA became the populist force on the right, while the left’s version coalesced around Sanders and then more radical figures. They tried to gloss it over with Schumer and Pelosi types, promoting AOC as the face of left-wing populism. In Ohio, we see echoes in candidates like Amy Acton, the former health director now running as a Democrat for governor against Vivek Ramaswamy. People are asking, “Is this who we are?” Yes, it is the natural evolution when you let structures rot from within.

Around that time of trouble with Clear Channel, I didn’t care much about staying in the corporate fold. They offered me slots on stations like in Ann Arbor, Michigan, but I wanted freedom. Private ownership was already being gobbled up, a pattern tied to larger centralizing forces. Instead, I joined Matt Clark on his radio show in Michigan—around 2013-2014—and we read the planks of the Communist Manifesto on air. I hadn’t even heard of The Naked Communist by W. Cleon Skousen at first, but once I dug in, it was revelatory. Skousen’s 1958 book distills communist strategy: infiltrating institutions, undermining culture, using education as a weapon. We laid it out on air, and it hit hard because it mirrored what was happening.

The Communist Manifesto by Marx and Engels outlines transitional measures that sound eerily familiar: abolition of private property in land, heavy progressive income taxes, centralization of credit, free public education (with a specific ideological bent), and more. Skousen expanded on how these were being advanced not through overt revolution but gradual infiltration—especially post-WWII, through the New Deal era, the 1960s counterculture, and into public schools via the Department of Education created in the late 1970s. I’ve been railing against this for decades: property taxes as confiscation of wealth to fund socialist indoctrination. Drop your kids off for “babysitting” while they absorb attitudes hostile to capitalism, family, and individual liberty.

Look at the evidence. Public sector unions grew massively, wielding power through collective bargaining that influences policy far beyond wages. In Ohio, the 2011 battles over Senate Bill 5 highlighted the tensions. Critics called reforms anti-worker; supporters saw them as protecting taxpayers. The long-term effect? Generations raised on these ideas are voting for policies that expand government control. We see it in New York and Portland, and in attempts here in Ohio. Soccer, as I’ve joked, is a socialist game—low scores, penalizing individual excellence, team dependency. Contrast that with American football: capitalism, specialization, big plays rewarding talent and strategy. Little cultural elements seep in, shaping mindsets.

Fox News and corporate media during the Trump exile period played a role, too. When they thought he was done, they pivoted to DeSantis and conventional Republicans, hoping to normalize. Many in the media wanted less politics, more sports, grilling hot dogs—anything to avoid offending advertisers. Truth-telling took a backseat to revenue. I warned them. The corporate structure favors controlled narratives. But voters rejected it. Two terms of Trump, ongoing cultural shifts, and now the chickens coming home to roost.

My own journey informs this. I’ve worked since age 12, from manual labor to aerospace executive. I’ve seen power operate in the shadows—from Cincinnati’s riverfront politics in the 1990s and interactions with figures across the aisle to insights from organized networks where coded signals and plausible deniability ruled. Ethics kept me straight: sober, honest, observant. That front-row seat to how establishments maintain control taught me not to let others define my value. I don’t give people power over me through consensus or popularity contests. That’s partly the Overman ethos—imposing will on circumstances—resilience over victimhood.

People ridiculed me for talking about communism in schools or cultural Marxism. “Conspiracy theory!” they said. Yet here we are, with Marxist ideas normalized in curricula, DEI initiatives, attacks on private property, and big government solutions. The Naked Communist warned of this infiltration decades ago. Skousen detailed 45 goals, many of which involved media, education, and the weakening of moral foundations. We’ve seen music shift from 1950s-80s family themes to hedonism and occult influences, eroding values. Public schools, funded by confiscated wealth, became transmission belts for these ideas.

I’ve always offered help sincerely—free advice from decades of study—out of a desire to strengthen families and communities. But many prefer scapegoats and the blame game. They sidelined voices like mine, thinking they could manage the narrative. When lives or policies fall apart, I don’t gloat maliciously, but there is satisfaction in the “I told you so.” It’s not personal profit; it’s validation of studying reality over wishful thinking. In business, politics, family—I’ve seen patterns repeat. Warnings about the socialist/Marxist wave, public unions, and education weren’t new; roots trace to the 1930s Red Decade, FDR’s expansions, and post-war shifts.

Now, with elections looming, including Ohio’s gubernatorial race, the question is whether people will learn. Vivek Ramaswamy represents pro-capitalist, America First energy—make money, innovate, don’t apologize. Opponents tap proletarian resentment: hate the rich, use government to redistribute. This is the apocalypse of learned helplessness versus the gunfighter spirit of self-mastery.

My upcoming book, The Politics of Heaven, delves deeper into these spiritual and historical dimensions—biblical conspiracies, giants, divine rebellion, spiritual warfare manifesting in earthly power struggles. It’s a treasure hunt through history showing how anti-human forces operate. Sharing the manuscript with serious readers has been encouraging. It ties ancient insights to modern battles, urging resilience rooted in faith and truth.

As we recently celebrated the Fourth of July—fireworks, patriotism, soccer matches rallying some—it’s a reminder of what’s at stake. American exceptionalism isn’t compatible with the collectivist mindset. I’ve withdrawn from chasing those who won’t listen; it’s their choice to run into the wall. But for those paying attention, the lessons are clear. Study the sources, question the structures, reject the slow poison.

In the end, my reputation has held because I base decisions on evidence and human nature, not fleeting trends. Whether it’s aliens and UAP disclosure (topics I’ve discussed for years, tying into ancient histories) or the communist undercurrents, time vindicates. People may owe apologies in 20 years, but I won’t hold my breath. The age of “I told you so” is here, not for ego, but as a hard-earned lesson: listen to those who’ve studied the long game, or choke on the consequences. Family, faith, self-reliance—these endure. Everything else is noise.

Footnotes

1. Observations on current Ohio politics and candidates.

2. Personal radio experiences and Clear Channel interactions.

3. W. Cleon Skousen, The Naked Communist (1958).

4. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The Communist Manifesto (1848).

5. Coverage of Ohio public sector union debates, e.g., 2011 reforms.

Bibliography

• Skousen, W. Cleon. The Naked Communist. Ensign Publishing, 1958.

• Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. The Communist Manifesto. 1848.

• Various news sources on Ohio elections 2026 and historical union battles.

• Personal archives and observations from radio, politics, and aerospace career.

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

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