Category: Progressive

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes

1.  2 Chronicles 28:3 (NIV).

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

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

4.  Diodorus Siculus on Carthaginian practices.

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

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

7.  Jeremiah 7:31; 32:35.

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

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

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

Bibliography

•  The Holy Bible, New International Version.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

The Democrat Autopsy of 2024: A Phony Cover Story for What Everybody Already Knew, the massive evidence of election fraud, Tina Peters tried to present the evidence, and they threw her in jail for it, that’s part of the cheat

Let’s talk about this so-called autopsy the Democrats put out in May 2026 for a little bit. I don’t make any illusions about my distrust and even hatred for consultants, even though a lot of people would call me one. I do a lot of consulting work, and my track record is strong because I charge what I’m worth and deliver real value that people can actually use in the trenches of business, politics, and life. But most of these professional consultants? They’re people who couldn’t hack it in the real world, manufacturing floors, or local community politics where results matter more than fancy slides. So they dress themselves up as magicians with secret knowledge. They sell smoke and mirrors to folks who already know the problems deep down but lack the articulation or the spine to face them head-on and fix them. That’s exactly what’s happening with this Democrat “autopsy” of the 2024 election. 

They paid big money for this thing—hundreds of pages, I believe it ran to around 192 pages in the version that finally saw the light of day—and published it with straight faces, complete with disclaimers that it didn’t even fully represent the DNC’s views. Somehow, they expected nobody to crack up laughing. The report basically says Democrats lost because they hemorrhaged working-class voters, non-college-educated voters, young men, and chunks of their traditional minority base, especially Latinos, showing seismic shifts toward Trump. Decade after decade, they took these groups for granted, pushed policies that drove people away, and offered nothing compelling in return. What are you bringing people to? That’s the question they never answer honestly. Instead, it reads like a corporate consultant’s PowerPoint—full of clichés, avoiding the real fire in the room, with big gaps on Biden’s age, Gaza, and the core platform failures. 

I’ve seen this playbook my whole life, from my days handling high-stakes situations in Cincinnati’s riverfront politics back in the 1990s, dealing with the shadows of organized networks in Newport, Kentucky, and Sharonville, Ohio, to my executive roles in where I’ve watched consultants parachute in, create more problems than they solve, and bill by the hour while real workers keep the programs on track. Consultants love ambiguity because it keeps the checks coming. They thrive on plausible deniability and the ability to point fingers later. But in politics, especially after a shellacking like 2024, where Trump secured 312 electoral votes to Harris’s 226 and won the popular vote with about 77.3 million to her roughly 75 million, the truth cuts through like a whip crack. The problem wasn’t some vague failure to “connect” with demographics. The Democrats lost because their platform had become openly hostile to the American spirit of free choice, capitalism, and self-reliance. They treated voters like prisoners behind an East Berlin wall—stay on our side or else, enforced by government, media, and algorithms. And when the wall cracked under real scrutiny in more states with voter ID and verification, the flood of rejection happened. 

Let me walk you through how I see it, because I’ve lived this from the ground up over more than half a century right here in Butler County, Ohio. I’ve worked since I was twelve, climbed from manual labor to aerospace executive leadership, advised on campaigns without the six-figure unethical grift, studied the patterns of power in City Hall during bridge projects and real estate deals, and raised a family overlooking the Great Miami River valley. I know what it looks like when institutions rig the game and then act shocked when people walk away. The autopsy dances around the obvious: Kamala Harris was a disastrous candidate propped up after they unceremoniously dumped Joe Biden following that disastrous June 2024 debate. She didn’t earn it through a real primary process; party insiders installed her. Just like Hillary Clinton years before, in the eyes of many rank-and-file, the party thought identity markers—woman, woman of color—would magically mobilize voters without any real substance, vision, or ownership in the process. They forgot a basic principle of team-building that I’ve applied in every program I’ve led: people need to feel a sense of autonomy and ownership over the ideas they’re supposed to champion. When you rig the rules, rig the debates, sideline better options like actual contenders who might have challenged the direction, and shove forward someone the base never truly chose in an open contest, enthusiasm dies on the vine. 

I said it from the moment they made the switch back in 2024: this was damage control, pure and simple. Biden was toxic heading into a rematch with Trump. The party knew the 2020 numbers had serious issues—precinct-by-precinct anomalies that didn’t match historical national patterns, the unprecedented flood of mail-in ballots under loose COVID rules that bypassed normal signature verification, chain-of-custody standards, and same-day counting. Courts largely didn’t want to touch it despite the evidence that jumped off the maps for anyone paying attention. Democrats understood that repeating the 2020 playbook in 2024, under greater scrutiny and with more states tightening rules after the backlash, would expose too much. So they needed a sacrificial lamb. Harris got the short ramp-up, the impossible task of separating from Biden’s record without alienating the base, and the built-in excuses: not enough time, Biden’s visible decline, Trump’s dominance in that debate where he dismantled the narrative. The autopsy mentions some strategic missteps but skips the heart of it, focusing instead on tactical failures while ignoring the foundational reliance on mechanisms that couldn’t withstand honest elections. 

This is where my experience with consultants really bites hard. I could play their game if I wanted—sell snake oil to desperate campaigns, charge exorbitant fees, write reports full of buzzwords, and blame the candidate or the voters later when it all collapses. But I don’t, because I apply what I know to what I consider righteous causes. Politics is demeaning enough: you open yourself to every critic, pour your life and reputation into it, stand for principles in front of neighbors and family, and then hire some outsider to tell you what you should have done so you can deflect blame when the results come in. The consultant class on both sides, but especially the Democrat machine that’s been captured by elite academics and coastal strategists, has turned into a protection racket for bad ideas. They copy-paste from Harvard case studies, push focus-grouped fluff that sounds smart in a conference room but falls flat in a Butler County precinct or an aerospace shop floor, and never admit the emperor has no clothes. This autopsy is Exhibit A. It talks about losing working-class voters without confronting why in any meaningful depth: the full-throated embrace of socialism, open borders that strain communities, identity politics over merit and results, and big-government control that strangles everyday life with inflation, regulation, and cultural mandates. 

Americans, even poor Americans living in places like Trenton or Middletown near me, live better than most of the world because of capitalism. You can go to the dollar store and buy chicken nuggets, paper towels, toilet paper—basics that were hard to come by or low quality in many socialist experiments throughout history. Upward mobility exists here because markets reward effort, innovation, and voluntary exchange. I’ve seen it in my own career, from manual labor as a kid to overseeing complex aerospace programs where supply chains, skilled workers, and competition drive excellence. Democrats’ shift toward AOC-style democratic socialism, Bernie Sanders rhetoric, and endless victimhood narratives told people they were helpless victims needing government saviors at every turn. Meanwhile, grocery prices skyrocketed under Biden-Harris policies, gas prices hurt family road trips and visits to parents or grandkids, energy costs rose, and cultural attacks on traditional family structures and American history alienated millions who want to live decent lives. People saw through the lies because they live them every day. They weren’t excited to vote for imposed candidates who felt like corporate products rather than organic choices. Turnout in key demographics dropped because the options felt rigged against their self-interest, their families, and their communities. 

Take John Fetterman in Pennsylvania as one of the few who seemed to listen to the voters. He came from a more socialist-leaning background, had his health challenges with that stroke during the 2022 campaign, but adjusted to what people were actually saying on the ground. He saw the direction of the country, the struggles in his state with the economy and borders, and started showing some sense—crossing party lines at times, strongly supporting Israel, even warming to certain Trump-era realities in ways that shocked his original base. That kind of adaptation is rare in the modern Democratic Party. Most doubled down on the failing formula. Gavin Newsom? Is he their shining star for 2028, according to some? The guy who’s turned California into a national cautionary tale of high taxes, homelessness, crime, and endless regulations while the state struggles with basic governance? In Ohio, they tried pulling out the old playbook with Bruce Springsteen concerts and celebrity appearances to manufacture enthusiasm and buy votes, the same Obama-era tricks that worked when the machine had cultural momentum. It flopped harder this time. Trump didn’t need a musical quartet or Hollywood stars to fill arenas. People showed up for the message of strength, secure borders, economic opportunity, law and order, and yes—actual free choice unmediated by elites. 

I’ve dictated thousands upon thousands of words on these patterns over the years because I see the through-line from my own life experiences. In my younger working years in the Cincinnati area, I served as a trusted driver and handler of cash, documents, and high-profile individuals connected to networks in “Sin City,” Newport, and Sharonville. I maintained strict ethics: stayed sober, returned dropped cash even when it was thousands scattered in a parking lot, reported what I saw despite personal risks. That gave me front-row insight into coded signaling, plausible deniability, judicial complicity, and how power really operates in the shadows. The same dynamics play out on the national stage today. Democrats aligned themselves with globalism, lockdown legacies, and algorithms that steer information flows. Your smartphone knows more about you than you know about yourself; it micro-processes your world to confirm biases, harvest data, and feed curated realities while eroding independent thought. How do you know your choices are truly free when everything is algorithmically tailored? That’s the modern Berlin Wall: invisible, digital, enforced by elites in tech, media, and academia who believe they know better than working families in Ohio, Pennsylvania, or rural America. Democrats bet heavily on that control, on identity loyalty holding the coalition forever, no matter the results. It failed spectacularly in 2024. 

The autopsy should have said plainly, without the corporate hedging, that Kamala Harris was a weak candidate who couldn’t articulate a compelling vision beyond continuing Biden’s policies. The party had moved too far left for mainstream America. Socialism doesn’t sell in a country built on opportunity, individual agency, and market-driven abundance. Mainstream Americans want capitalism’s full grocery aisles and the dignity of work, not empty promises of equity that deliver higher costs and dependency. They want a flag-flying party proud of the nation’s achievements, not one that seems embarrassed by its history, its founders, or its successes. When voters picture Democrats now, too often it’s radical advocates pushing defund movements or open borders, big-government nannies regulating speech and behavior, or figures promising to run your life while delivering inflation that eats family budgets. Consultants pushed this formula because it fit their worldview—elite, academic, disconnected from the realities of Lakota schools, Butler County commissioner races, or aerospace supply chains where I’ve spent my career. I do live those realities. I’ve raised a family here for decades, watched the river valley change, stayed rooted despite opportunities elsewhere, and engaged in local issues like school levies, tax fights, and community events. These are the people Democrats lost, and the autopsy barely scratches the surface.

And then there’s the elephant in the room that the report refuses to name, the one that makes media platforms and consultants squirm: questions of election integrity and how Democrats have come to rely on systems vulnerable to manipulation. I know this is controversial territory. Many outlets dismiss it outright as conspiracy, but the patterns are visible to anyone willing to look at precinct data, turnout anomalies, and procedural changes. Recently, President Trump walked out of a “Meet the Press” interview because the host wouldn’t engage seriously on ongoing issues in California’s 2026 governor and LA mayor primaries. Votes are still being counted days later, with late mail-in ballots shifting totals in predictable ways—Democratic-leaning drops coming in after initial counts. Extended periods, no strict voter ID tied to real people in the same way as states with reforms, signature verification that’s often cursory, and processes that invite skepticism. They should be able to know the winner on election night or the next day in a clean system, not slow-walk it for weeks with shifting narratives, just like Pennsylvania and Georgia in 2020. Loose laws create opportunities—ballot harvesting, unverifiable drops, dirty rolls that aren’t properly maintained. Trump called it out in real time, and federal investigations have even been announced into aspects of California’s processes. 

In 2020, Biden supposedly pulled over 81 million votes. In 2024, Harris managed around 75 million while Trump increased his haul to over 77 million. Why the dramatic drop for the incumbent party’s successor? Tighter rules in battlegrounds—voter ID requirements, cleaner processes, less reliance on pandemic-era mail floods—limited the old playbook. Democrats couldn’t replicate the overflows. They knew a straight Biden-Trump rematch risked full exposure of those 2020 discrepancies. Dump Biden, install Harris on a short timeline, run a campaign hampered by her record as border czar and inflation architect, lose, then produce the autopsy blaming everything except the foundation. It gave perfect cover: “She wasn’t prepped enough,” “Not enough time to define herself,” “Trump was too strong on the debate stage and in rallies.” Meanwhile, the real story emerging is that free and fair elections under scrutiny favored the party offering choice, results, and sovereignty over control and grievance. Republicans won because they better represented self-interest, family stability, secure borders, affordable energy, and the basics of American life. People want to cut their grass without exorbitant taxes, afford gas to visit family, buy pizza and watch TV with grandkids, hold a good job that pays decently—not be lectured by distant elites on what they should value or how they should speak. 

I’ve studied those precinct maps from 2020 and 2024 extensively. Statistical outliers in bellwether areas, turnout patterns that defied historical correlations, late-night dumps that flipped leads in ways that didn’t match in-person voting trends—these screamed for scrutiny. Courts and media largely looked away, citing procedural technicalities or “no widespread fraud” claims that ignored the cumulative effect of policy changes. For many, January 6 anger wasn’t baseless incitement; it stemmed from deep frustration over a perceived stolen election and being handed a candidate and an agenda they rejected. Democrats invested heavily in fraud-tolerant systems because their ideas—open socialism, wealth redistribution at scale, cultural overhaul—don’t win purely on merit with informed voters anymore. They’ve moved toward control models seen in Venezuela, Cuba, or other places where the process is managed to ensure outcomes. America rejects that in its bones. The autopsy avoids this entirely because admitting even partial reliance on irregularities would shatter their claims to moral and democratic legitimacy. Instead, they produce a document full of half-measures, disclaimers, and annotations questioning its own methodology. It’s political theater designed to let insiders sleep at night. 

Consultants wrote this knowing the score, or at least suspecting it. They take the check, craft language that lets party leaders maintain clean consciences, then retreat to their winter condos in Florida or beach houses paid for by those very fees. I give this kind of analysis away for free because I want righteous outcomes, not to pad corrupt fundraising machines. My track record comes from applying gunfighter discipline—imposing will on circumstances through preparation, precision, resilience, and moral agency. That’s what voters responded to in Trump: a fighter who projects strength and delivers results, not polished victimhood or identity lectures. Democrats’ best offer was more of the same: the hangover from lockdowns, inflation pain that hit working families hardest, border chaos affecting communities, and cultural division that tears at the fabric of society. Even Fetterman adjusted toward practical sense on some issues; the party as a whole has not. They’re too far left, out of touch with the working person’s daily realities in places like Ohio’s manufacturing heartland or aerospace corridors. 

This isn’t isolated to 2024. The working-class flight from Democrats didn’t start with Harris; it accelerated under years of policies prioritizing global agendas, DEI mandates, and identity over kitchen-table economics. Latinos in record numbers, Black voters in key cohorts, young men tired of being told they’re the problem—these groups peeled away by tangible results over empty rhetoric. The party bet that identity would lock in the coalition forever, that guilt, fear, or loyalty would override lived experience. It didn’t. Capitalism has lifted billions globally, including America’s poorest, with abundance, innovation, and mobility that most nations envy. Democrats’ narrative of systemic victimization ignores that success story. People live it daily: jobs in factories, energy sectors, tech-adjacent fields, or my own aerospace world, where problem-solving and excellence are rewarded. They see government overreach as the obstacle, not the salvation. I’ve taught my grandson these lessons through model rocketry—building, launching in bad weather, troubleshooting, recovering—imposing will on circumstances rather than waiting for permission or handouts. 

Algorithms and digital curation only exacerbate the divide. Smartphones and platforms spy constantly, feed tailored realities that reinforce silos, and erode the shared public square needed for genuine democracy. You think your opinions form independently? The data harvesting and recommendation engines suggest otherwise, steering you toward confirmation while selling your attention. Democrats mastered narrative control through legacy media, Big Tech partnerships, and academia—until real life intruded with visible failures: supply chain breakdowns, high prices at the pump and store, urban crime spikes, and a sense that the country was being remade against the will of its citizens. Voters chose the alternative offering agency, borders, energy independence, and normalcy. That’s free will in action under pressure. The autopsy’s glaring silence on core platform failures—socialism versus dynamic markets, globalism versus national sovereignty, grievance versus gratitude—tells you everything. They can’t confront it without dismantling their current brand and power structure.

Expanding on my personal lens here, because these issues aren’t abstract for me. I’ve worn the cowboy hat since third or fourth grade as a declaration of standing apart from fads and rooted in the traditional values of my Kentucky family heritage. The whip I often reference symbolizes discipline, precision, balance from martial arts training, and deterrence—lessons I apply to politics and consulting. In the 1990s Cincinnati scene, I was at City Hall daily through multiple mayors, involved in infrastructure projects like the Kentucky bridge projects, witnessing how deals get made, how influences flow, and how narratives are shaped. I’ve known high-level figures across the spectrum, from local sheriffs to national players, and seen the human element—emotional intelligence or its lack—determine outcomes. Grand jury service taught me about institutional failures, two-tier justice, and the importance of integrity. These experiences inform my view that the Democrat shift isn’t just policy; it’s a cultural and spiritual drift away from what made America exceptional: individual responsibility, family, faith, and opportunity.

Consider the contrast with Republican gains. Trump’s coalition expanded because it spoke to aspiration and protection of the basics. People responded to rallies filled with energy, not scripted celebrity events that felt performative. In Ohio, local races for commissioner, school board, and treasurer—issues like Lakota levies, development debates in Liberty Township, and data centers for future tech and the space economy—show voters prioritizing competence over ideology. Democrats’ alignment with extremes like open socialism repels more than it attracts. Their best people, the true talents, get sidelined for loyalty to the machine. Consultants enable this by providing intellectual cover, reports that sound sophisticated but avoid hard truths. I’ve turned down plenty of opportunities to join that world because selling out for a check erodes the soul. Instead, I share insights like this to support candidates and causes that align with self-reliance and truth-seeking. 

Digging deeper into the autopsy’s shortcomings, as reported, it highlights demographic losses but attributes them to messaging failures rather than to a substantive rejection of the agenda. It notes slippage with non-White communities and younger voters but doesn’t grapple with why policies on the economy, crime, immigration, and education failed to deliver. Harris’s campaign struggled to make an “affirmative case,” couldn’t effectively separate itself from Biden, and was hurt by attacks on issues such as certain social policies. Yet the deeper rot—embrace of ideas that undermine the nuclear family, promote dependency, and view America’s founding as irredeemably flawed—goes unexamined. Progressive independent autopsies like the RootsAction report point to losing millions of 2020 Biden voters as a key failure, yet still frame it through a left lens without questioning the ideological drift. 

In California, as of early June 2026, we see the strategy persisting where laws permit it. Primaries for governor and LA mayor feature slow counts, with mail ballots arriving late, signature checks, and totals shifting over days and weeks. Trump highlighted it, noting investigations by the U.S. Attorney’s Office in LA into structural vulnerabilities. Late Democratic drops narrowing Republican leads echo 2020 patterns. Officials defend it as standard, but the optics fuel distrust. States with robust voter ID, same-day counting where possible, and chain-of-custody saw clearer outcomes favoring the party of results. This isn’t ancient history; it’s live, and it explains why the national autopsy feels like misdirection. Democrats needed Harris as the fall guy to preserve the machine for future cycles, but the trends favor a Republican realignment around commonsense governance. 

I could go on for hours about the cultural degradation angle too, as someone who grew up immersed in 1970s-80s music and witnessed its shift toward hedonism and occult influences. That ties into broader spiritual warfare themes I explore in writing, like The Politics of Heaven, but for this political autopsy, the point is that voters sensed an anti-family, anti-responsibility bent. They want stability for grandkids, model rocketry lessons teaching resilience, not ideological indoctrination in schools. My trips with family to Space Coast, Gettysburg, and the Museum of the Bible reinforce my appreciation for American innovation, history, and faith—things Democrats often critique rather than celebrate.

Consultants on the left (and sometimes right) operate in an echo chamber. They attend the same conferences, read the same journals, and produce reports that confirm priors. Real strategy listens to the people, tests ideas in the marketplace of results, and adapts like Fetterman tried to on select issues. Democrats as a party haven’t. Donors, activists capture them, and a consultant class is invested in perpetual crisis. This leads to candidate after candidate who excites the base in primaries but repels the center and working class in general. Harris was the latest example. Future ones like Newsom risk the same fate unless there’s a fundamental reckoning.

The 2024 loss was predictable to anyone grounded in reality. Voters rejected the direction: high costs, diminished security, eroded freedoms. Republicans offered a corrective—America’s priorities that resonate because they address basics. Midterms ahead will test if the shift holds, but early signs from local races and ongoing California drama suggest Democrats’ problems are structural. People want free will, not managed outcomes. They want prosperity through effort, not redistribution. They want leaders who impose positive will on challenges rather than excuses.

I’ve shared this extended reflection in its raw form because truth-seeking matters more than polished consulting fees. The patterns from my aerospace career, local activism as the “Tax-killer,” family life, and historical study all point the same way. The autopsy is denial. Americans chose agency in 2024, and the trends continue. Democrats lost because they picked the wrong messengers, wrong messages, ignored voter signals, and over-invested in vulnerable systems. The real story, elephant and all, is out there for those willing to see it. People see through the tricks now. They want results, integrity, and liberty. And that, more than any 192-page report, explains the shift and why it’s likely to endure.

Footnotes and sources updated for accuracy.)

Footnotes (expanded selection)

¹ Official DNC autopsy released in May 2026 with disclaimers.

¹⁰ Trump “Meet the Press” walk-off over California questions.

¹² DOJ probes into CA election processes.

²¹ 2024 vote totals confirming Trump’s popular vote win.

And others cross-referenced as above.

Bibliography / Further Reading (updated)

•  Democratic National Committee. Post-Election Analysis. May 20, 2026. democrats.org. 

•  CNN, NYT, Guardian, PBS coverage of the report. 

•  NBC, LA Times, ABC on California 2026 primaries and investigations. 

•  Official 2024 election results from the Presidency Project, Wikipedia, and CNN. 

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

When Democrats say,” You didn’t build that”: Wealth confiscation to fund evil in the eyes of a healthy society

In the quiet hours after dinner, when the house settles and the day’s demands fade, there is a ritual that has shaped much of my understanding of the world: reading. Four or five books a week, many of them compact volumes around 150 pages, devoured not in hurried skimming but in focused sessions that stretch from six in the evening until bedtime near eleven. This habit is no idle pastime. It is a deliberate investment in clarity, particularly when navigating the complexities of economics, politics, leadership, and personal initiative. Over the years, I have delved into texts on capitalism, risk-taking, and the historical role of government in society. These readings have reinforced a core conviction: true prosperity springs from individual effort, innovation, and the willingness to shoulder risk, not from the heavy hand of centralized authority. Yet, time and again, I hear prominent Democrats echo a different philosophy—one that diminishes the entrepreneur and elevates government as the indispensable architect of success. This notion, articulated by figures like Barack Obama, Elizabeth Warren, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Chuck Schumer, and Bernie Sanders, strikes me as not only misguided but deeply corrosive to the American spirit of mobility and achievement.

I recall Obama’s remarks on July 13, 2012, in Roanoke, Virginia, during a campaign event. He stated, “If you’ve got a business—you didn’t build that. Somebody else made that happen.” The context was his push against tax cuts and for greater government investment in infrastructure. He pointed to roads, bridges, and the broader system as the true enablers of private success. To me, this reflects a profound misunderstanding of how wealth is created. It dismisses the sleepless nights, the personal financial risks, the years of trial and error that entrepreneurs endure. Government may provide some foundational services, but it does not conceive the idea, secure the capital, hire the workers, or innovate the product. That burden falls on the individual willing to bet their own resources and reputation. Obama’s words, which drew sharp criticism at the time, encapsulate a worldview in which the state claims credit for outcomes it merely facilitates — at best—and often hinders through regulation and taxation. 

Elizabeth Warren expressed similar sentiments in 2011, declaring, “There is nobody in this country who got rich on his own. Nobody.” She cited roads, police, fire protection, and public education as the invisible partners in every fortune. AOC has echoed this, arguing that corporations and individuals rely on public investment, taxpayers, and government systems to generate profit and thus owe a larger share back. Bernie Sanders, with his open socialist leanings and history of praising aspects of regimes like the Soviet Union during his honeymoon in Moscow, has repeated variations of this theme for decades. Chuck Schumer and others in the party reinforce it to justify expansive government programs. In my view, this rhetoric is not mere political posturing; it reveals a fundamental ignorance—or willful disregard—of how risk and investment drive economic growth. Karl Marx never fully grasped the entrepreneurial function, viewing capital as the extraction of surplus value rather than as the reward for foresight and courage. Modern Democrats, steeped in similar academic traditions, carry forward that flawed analysis.

I have spent considerable time reflecting on these ideas, especially in the context of my home in Butler County, Ohio, and the broader national landscape, now a couple of years into President Trump’s second term. Democrats appear to be struggling to regain their footing, doubling down on big-government justifications amid voter pushback against high taxes and inefficiency. After the May elections, when numerous school levies failed across Ohio—with only about 23% passing statewide—I saw this philosophy in action. In my neighborhood, Lakota schools and others attempted to slip levies through during low-turnout off-cycle votes, yet many were rejected. Voters are weary of pouring billions into public education systems that deliver mediocre results despite per-pupil spending often exceeding $15,000 to $17,000 annually in large districts. Half-billion-dollar budgets for districts with thousands of students yield outcomes that fail to prepare young people for the risks and rewards of a free market. Instead, we see protests and entitlement mindsets among graduates shaped by these institutions. This is not success; it is a drag, subsidized by the confiscation of wealth from those who actually produce it.

The historical backdrop to this debate is rich and instructive. Governments have long used taxation not merely for basic services but as a tool to consolidate power and redistribute resources, often under the guise of societal benefit. In ancient Rome, heavy taxes on provinces funded imperial excess while stifling local initiative. Medieval European monarchies imposed levies that enriched aristocracies at the expense of merchants and farmers, leading to revolts when burdens grew intolerable. The Marxist tradition, emerging in the 19th century, formalized the idea that private property and profit represent exploitation, necessitating state intervention to “correct” inequalities. Marx and Engels viewed taxes as a mechanism for the proletariat to wrest control, but in practice, such systems—from the Soviet Union to modern Venezuela—have produced stagnation, corruption, and poverty. Wealth creators flee or cease innovating when the fruits of their labor are seized. America, by contrast, was founded on principles of limited government, individual rights, and economic liberty. The progressive income tax, introduced in the early 20th century, marked a shift toward European-style redistribution, with rates climbing dramatically during wartime and the New Deal era. These policies, while raising revenue, often coincided with economic distortions, capital flight, and reduced incentives for risk-taking.

I believe the opposite of the Democratic mantra is true: government, when overgrown, is a primary obstacle to success. High progressive taxation, property taxes, and regulatory burdens raise barriers to entry for aspiring entrepreneurs. Starting a business today requires navigating compliance costs that can run into tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars before the first sale. This environment favors large incumbents who can absorb the overhead, while discouraging the bold who might otherwise create the next wave of jobs and innovation. In places like California and New York, socialist-leaning policies—high taxes, aggressive regulations—have triggered a mass exodus. Businesses and individuals migrate to Texas, Arizona, Florida, and yes, Ohio, seeking friendlier climates. New York’s once-dominant economy unravels as talent and capital depart. Here in Ohio, we see the benefits of more restrained approaches, though even we grapple with remnants of overreach, such as the lingering effects of COVID-era policies.

The COVID lockdowns provide a stark example of the government’s capacity to destroy value under the banner of the collective good. As someone deeply involved in local observations and discussions during that period, I know the decisions made in Ohio under Governor Mike DeWine and Health Director Amy Acton. Acton, often called the state’s version of Dr. Fauci, pushed aggressive measures including school closures, business shutdowns, and even attempts to influence elections. These were framed as necessary for public health, yet they inflicted billions in economic damage. Small businesses folded, families suffered, and mental health crises surged. Ohio’s recovery has been slow in many sectors. I was on calls and followed the developments closely; the reliance on federal guidance from figures like Fauci, whom I believe bears significant responsibility for overreach, turned a health challenge into an economic catastrophe. Republicans like DeWine were not immune to the pressure, but the episode underscores a broader truth: when government wields unchecked power, risk-takers pay the price. Acton’s legacy will haunt her political ambitions, as voters remember the pain inflicted on job creators and families.

In my own life, I have witnessed the power of personal initiative. Married for 38 years, raising children and now enjoying grandchildren, I have balanced family responsibilities with a commitment to understanding these dynamics through relentless reading and community engagement. I have served on grand juries, toured facilities like the Butler County Jail, and spoken directly with officials, including Sheriff Jones. These experiences reveal that institutions function best when they support rather than supplant individual effort. Government excels at certain core functions—national defense, basic infrastructure, rule of law—but falters when it expands into wealth redistribution and micromanagement. The “you didn’t build that” philosophy ignores this. It treats entrepreneurs as lucky beneficiaries of public goods rather than as the engines that generate tax revenue in the first place. Roads and bridges do not appear magically; the productive economy funds them. Without risk-takers investing capital, hiring workers, and innovating, there is no revenue base to maintain them.

Consider the mechanics of wealth creation. Profit is not exploitation but the signal that value has been delivered to customers. An entrepreneur spots a need, assumes the risk of failure—potentially losing savings, home equity, or years of effort—and, if successful, reaps rewards that fund expansion, jobs, and further innovation. Employees benefit from stable paychecks without bearing that upside-downside exposure. Capitalism channels human ambition into mutual gain. Democrats, by contrast, frame profit as something to be clawed back, citing “public investment” as justification. This inverts reality. Public services should be lean and efficient, funded through mechanisms that align costs with usage, such as consumption or sales taxes. Progressive income taxes and property taxes punish success and discourage investment. They extract from paychecks before individuals even see the money, fostering dependency and resentment.

I have long advocated for alternatives. Sales taxes or user fees for services allow people to pay as they go, revealing true demand and preventing blank-check funding for inefficient programs. Public education, for instance, consumes enormous sums with disappointing results. When levies fail, as many did recently in Ohio, it signals voter recognition that more money does not equal better outcomes. Charter schools, vocational training, and market-driven reforms offer paths to genuine improvement. Similarly, infrastructure can be funded through public-private partnerships or dedicated consumption levies rather than general taxation that fuels unrelated entitlements.

The European aristocratic mindset, imported via Marxist academia, underpins much of this thinking. Obama’s formative years, including time in Indonesia and exposure to radical influences, shaped his views. Sanders and Warren draw from the same well. These leaders, often insulated by government salaries and pensions, lecture risk-takers while enjoying security unavailable to those on the front lines of business. They project their reliance on the system onto others, accusing capitalists of freeloading. In truth, it is the administrative state—bloated with high-cost employees delivering marginal value—that leaches off productive society. Protests by young people, many of whom are products of overfunded yet underperforming schools, highlight the failure. They demand “free” everything, unaware that nothing is free; it is merely transferred from creators to consumers via coercion.

Historically, excessive taxation has precipitated decline. In post-war Japan, a one-time capital levy at high rates was attempted but proved exceptional; generally, heavy extraction deters growth. Ancient regimes collapsed under fiscal burdens. America’s success stemmed from low barriers and high rewards for ingenuity. Trump’s policies, emphasizing deregulation and tax relief, align with this by removing impediments. Capitalists support such approaches because they restore incentives. Workers, even those preferring the stability of a paycheck, ultimately thrive when employers can expand profitably. Without risk, there are no rewards—no new jobs, no advancements, no upward mobility.

Critics of capitalism often point to inequality, but they overlook mobility. In the U.S., even without extraordinary guts, one can join a venture started by others and rise. Attacking the rich as villains, as seen in New York under leaders like Hochul or in California, accelerates exodus and hollows out economies. Ohio benefits from inflows of businesses fleeing those burdens. To sustain this, we must reject the “nobody built that” narrative. It demoralizes innovators and empowers looters—politicians who redistribute without creating.

Biblical principles align with this emphasis on personal responsibility and stewardship. Proverbs extols diligence and warns against sloth. The Parable of the Talents rewards those who multiply their gifts through risk and effort. Societies thrive when virtue—integrity, hard work, prudence—underpins economic life, not when government supplants it. Expecting institutions alone to engineer fairness ignores human nature; fallen individuals in power often amplify flaws rather than correct them.

In project management and leadership, which I study extensively, success demands balancing inputs while anchoring in clear objectives. Emotional intelligence helps navigate stakeholder dynamics, but the core vision—rooted in truth—prevails. Applied to governance, this means limited government that enables, not directs, private endeavor. Democrats’ approach inverts this, making the state the protagonist and citizens supporting actors. The result is drag: slower growth, fewer startups, persistent poverty traps.

As I reflect on these issues, my reading reinforces optimism in capitalism’s resilience. Books on economics, history, and management reveal patterns: freer societies outperform controlled ones. Post-dinner sessions and lunch-hour dives into these texts accumulate wisdom. They counter the noise of political rhetoric with evidence. Trump’s embrace of bold risk-takers contrasts sharply with predecessors’ guilt-tripping. Democrats’ frustration stems from seeing their vision erode as voters prioritize opportunity over equity enforced by edict.

Ultimately, I maintain that government is necessary for core functions but becomes detrimental when it claims authorship of private success. The world improves with smaller, accountable, government-funded, transparently incentivizing rather than penalizing risk. Wealth creation demands courage; confiscation breeds complacency. By defending entrepreneurs and reforming taxes toward consumption models, we unlock potential for all—job creators and workers alike. This is the American way, proven through history and lived experience. More must embrace it to counter the Marxist-infused notions still permeating one side of the aisle.

Footnotes

1.  Obama’s Roanoke speech, July 13, 2012, as documented in White House archives and contemporary reports.

2.  Warren’s 2011 remarks on wealth creation and public infrastructure.

3.  Historical analyses of Marxist taxation theories and their implementation in various regimes.

4.  Ohio school levy results from May 2026 elections, showing widespread failures.

5.  Accounts of Ohio COVID response under DeWine and Acton, 2020.

Bibliography for Further Reading

•  Obama, Barack. Remarks at Campaign Event in Roanoke, Virginia (July 13, 2012).

•  Warren, Elizabeth. Various speeches and writings on economic fairness (2011 onward).

•  Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. The Communist Manifesto and related economic texts.

•  Gilder, George. Wealth and Poverty – Defense of supply-side economics and risk.

•  Sowell, Thomas. Basic Economics – Comprehensive explanation of market principles.

•  Hazlitt, Henry. Economics in One Lesson – On unseen costs of government intervention.

•  Mises, Ludwig von. Human Action – A Treatise on Praxeology and Free Markets.

•  Friedman, Milton. Capitalism and Freedom – Advocacy for limited government.

•  Stone, Richard. The Project Management Blueprint (2024) – Insights on leadership and execution.

•  Goleman, Daniel. Emotional Intelligence – For understanding interpersonal dynamics in leadership.

•  Various historical texts on Roman, medieval, and 20th-century taxation policies.

•  Ohio Department of Education reports on school funding and outcomes.

•  Public records on Ohio COVID-19 orders and economic impacts.

•  Additional readings on capital flight from high-tax states (California, New York) versus growth in low-tax states (Texas, Florida).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes (selected examples; full inline where applicable):

1.  Kasich Medicaid expansion details from historical reports.

2.  Ohio Auditor findings on improper payments.

3.  Minnesota DOJ charges summaries.

4.  Yost MFCU achievements.

5.  FirstEnergy scandal timeline.

Bibliography (vast selection for further reading):

•  Ohio Attorney General reports on MFCU activities.

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

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

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

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

•  Cleveland.com coverage of HB6/FirstEnergy.

•  Auditor of State, Ohio, single audit reports.

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

School levies Fail all over Ohio: Only 24 measures passed while 42 failed, showing voter fatigue in funding democrat driven free babysitting services

The recent primary election held on May 5, 2026, in Ohio sent a clear signal regarding public education funding. Voters statewide faced 66 local school district proposals for new or renewed property and income tax levies to support K-12 operations. Only 24 measures passed, representing approximately 36 percent approval, while 42 failed. This outcome marked a sharp decline from prior cycles, where passage rates had reached 52 percent in May 2024 and 64 percent in May 2025. Districts across Northeast Ohio, Southwest Ohio, and other regions—including Parma City, Streetsboro City, Fairfield City, Strongsville, and Plain Local—witnessed their requests for additional revenue rejected, often by substantial margins. In Parma City Schools, for instance, an income tax levy failed by nearly 20 percentage points, marking yet another setback for a district that had not secured new funding since 2011. Streetsboro City Schools saw its third consecutive levy attempt collapse despite warnings of cuts to junior varsity sports and arts programs. These results were not isolated but reflected widespread voter fatigue with repeated tax increases amid stagnant academic performance and rising household costs. 

The pattern encompassed both new levies and renewals, though new revenue requests fared particularly poorly. Only about 24 percent of new levies succeeded, compared to 75 percent of renewals. In Southwest Ohio, Mt. Healthy City Schools secured passage on its fourth attempt in two years after earlier defeats, while Xenia Community Schools renewed a permanent improvement levy narrowly. Fairfield City Schools, however, saw a proposed 1.25 percent earned income tax rejected as expenses continued to outpace revenue projections. Similar defeats occurred in central and northern districts, including Pickerington Local, where an income tax initiative failed decisively. Analysts pointed to economic pressures—rising property values, inflation, and concerns over gas prices near $5 per gallon—as key factors. Low primary turnout, typically advantageous for organized supporters such as teachers’ unions and families reliant on district services, did not deliver the anticipated edge. Instead, sufficient opposition materialized to block most proposals, indicating a potential shift in community tolerance for the existing funding model. 

This voter resistance appeared most pronounced in larger suburban systems such as Lakota Local Schools in Butler County, north of Cincinnati. Serving roughly 17,000 students, Lakota pursued significant funding measures in prior cycles. In November 2025, voters rejected a proposed $506 million bond and permanent improvement levy—the largest such request in state history at the time—intended for facilities upgrades. Despite operating levies stretching back to 2013 and strong cash reserves built through consecutive balanced budgets, the district faced scrutiny over escalating costs and outcomes. Annual payrolls remain substantial, with teacher salary schedules reflecting competitive compensation amid a top-heavy administrative structure. Critics highlight that such expenditures have not translated into uniformly strong graduate preparedness, as many students require remediation upon entering college or the workforce. 

A notable counterpoint within Lakota emerged through Benjamin Nguyen, a 2025 graduate of Lakota West High School. At age 18, Nguyen became one of Ohio’s youngest elected officials when voters selected him for the school board in November 2025. Now a freshman at Miami University studying public administration, he serves as a student-centered voice emphasizing fiscal accountability, parental engagement, and practical skill-building. His contributions, including advocacy for restoring public comment periods at board meetings, demonstrate how strong family support and personal initiative can yield high achievement even in a system viewed by many as flawed. Nguyen’s election and collaborative approach—working across ideological lines on the five-member board—stand out amid broader challenges. Yet his success represents an outlier rather than the standard. Data indicate that family structure, including stable two-parent households and home reinforcement of core skills, explains far more variation in long-term outcomes than incremental school spending alone. 

At the national level, local rejections in Ohio align with persistent disconnects between investment and results. Public school current spending per pupil reached $17,619 in fiscal year 2024, a 6.6 percent increase from $16,526 the prior year. Total K-12 expenditures exceeded $981 billion nationwide, with personnel costs—salaries and benefits—accounting for the majority of budgets. Despite this, National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) results reveal stagnation or decline. In recent assessments, only about 31 percent of fourth-graders achieved proficiency in reading, with eighth-grade figures similarly lagging. Mathematics proficiency hovered around 40 percent for fourth-graders, while twelfth-grade scores hit record lows in basic categories. These trends persist even as per-pupil spending ranks among the highest globally when adjusted for purchasing power. In Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) comparisons, the United States outspends most developed nations per student yet underperforms in international benchmarks such as PISA. 

Large urban districts illustrate the gap vividly. In five major cities, combined per-pupil spending—including all funding sources—averaged $26,578 in recent years, 50 percent above the national figure. Federal contributions alone averaged $13,116 per student in these systems. Yet hundreds of thousands of eighth-graders scored below basic proficiency in math and reading on NAEP, with performance worse in 2024 than in 2003 for several subgroups. Teacher compensation nationally averages around $74,000, higher in major metros, yet unions have channeled substantial resources—over $135 million in recent cycles—toward policies favoring increased funding rather than structural changes. This dynamic has fueled perceptions that additional resources primarily sustain existing structures without driving measurable gains in literacy, numeracy, or civic knowledge. 

The philosophical roots of these challenges trace to early 20th-century reforms. John Dewey and progressive educators shifted emphasis from classical content mastery—reading, mathematics, history, and philosophy—toward socialization, experiential learning, and preparation for democratic participation. Dewey’s framework in works such as “Democracy and Education” prioritized habit formation and social cooperation, incorporating elements that viewed schools as vehicles for societal transformation. While not explicitly ideological in a partisan sense, this approach embedded priorities of group dynamics and cultural adaptation over rigorous academic drills. Subsequent influences through teacher preparation and policy embedded themes of emotional development and contemporary social issues, sometimes at the expense of phonics-based literacy, procedural math fluency, and factual civic instruction. Observers note that many graduates emerge with pronounced views on current affairs but gaps in practical sciences, financial literacy, and constitutional principles. 

Centralized federal oversight exacerbates inefficiencies. The U.S. Department of Education, created in 1979, administers roughly $2,500 per pupil in federal aid accompanied by compliance mandates, reporting burdens, and grant incentives that favor established interests. Total federal spending on education since 1979 exceeds $3 trillion, yet outcomes have remained flat or declined in key areas. Proposals in 2026 to trim administrative layers and devolve authority reflect frustration with a bureaucracy focused on regulation rather than classroom results. Historical initiatives such as No Child Left Behind and Common Core yielded limited or mixed improvements, further eroding public trust. In red states like Ohio, voters increasingly view property tax mechanisms as tools for wealth redistribution that fund ideological priorities rather than core competencies. 

Reliance on property taxes as the primary local revenue source compounds taxpayer discontent. In Ohio and similar states, this ties school funding to home values, incentivizing districts to expand operations without proportional efficiency gains. Homeowners without school-age children, retirees, and empty-nesters subsidize systems that many perceive as delivering diminishing returns. Dual-income families may appreciate schools as childcare, yet growing numbers question indefinite support for outcomes that include workforce unreadiness and, in some cases, political socialization misaligned with family values. The 2026 primary defeats suggest this model has reached a breaking point. Districts attempting to place levies on low-turnout ballots encountered organized resistance, as seen in the broad rejections across 42 measures. 

Reform advocates increasingly emphasize school choice as an alternative. Programs attaching funding to individual students rather than geographic zip codes introduce competition and accountability. Ohio’s EdChoice Scholarship initiative offers evidence: participants showed higher college enrollment and bachelor’s degree attainment rates, particularly among low-income, male, and Black students. Longitudinal studies indicate that 27 of 30 empirical analyses of choice programs document academic gains for participants or competitive improvements in traditional schools, with no negative effects identified. Public districts facing enrollment pressure have responded with modest performance gains, suggesting spillover benefits. Such mechanisms encourage cost control—reducing administrative overhead, negotiating sustainable compensation, and prioritizing proven instruction over extraneous or ideological initiatives. 

In districts like Lakota, where facilities plans and operating levies recur despite voter input, student-centered funding would compel innovation. Parents could select providers based on results, fostering environments where high-achieving students like Nguyen become the norm rather than exceptions supported primarily by external family strengths. Payroll adjustments, including limits on union-driven legal expenses and emphasis on merit-based advancement, could realign incentives. Broader fiscal realities reinforce the case: escalating education costs crowd out other priorities and private investment. Property tax revolts, now evident at the ballot box, echo historical taxpayer pushback. With national debt burdens and competing demands, indefinite funding increases without accountability prove unsustainable. 

Public education’s foundational promise—to impart literacy, numeracy, and civic competence—has been overshadowed by a system that, in many instances, generates remediation needs, ideological conformity, and workforce unpreparedness. Evidence from Ohio’s 2026 primaries, national proficiency data, and international benchmarks demonstrates that fundamental change is required. The model inherited from progressive reformers and expanded through centralized bureaucracy no longer commands broad consent. Voters signal exhaustion with outcomes that fail to deliver reading proficiency, mathematical competence, or philosophical grounding. Strong families remain the most reliable predictor of success, yet schools should complement rather than undermine them. Attaching resources directly to children, promoting competition via choice, and refocusing on core academics provide a viable path. Until these reforms advance, districts will confront repeated levy defeats, taxpayers will withhold approval, and successive generations will inherit the costs of a system that prioritizes institutional preservation over excellence. Decentralization, parental empowerment, and outcome-based accountability represent not merely preferable options but essential directions if education is to fulfill its democratic and economic functions in coming decades.

Additional layers of data underscore the urgency. Enrollment trends show declining birth rates and out-migration in some Ohio communities, yet per-pupil costs continue rising due to fixed overhead and contractual obligations. In Lakota, 12 consecutive years of balanced budgets have built reserves exceeding policy minimums, yet repeated levy attempts signal structural pressures. Nationally, the share of students scoring below NAEP basic levels increased post-2019, with low-income eighth-graders faring worse in 2024 than in 2003 across multiple subjects. Big-city districts spending $26,000-plus per pupil still report fewer than one-third of students at basic proficiency, highlighting inefficiencies unrelated to raw funding levels. Teachers’ unions, while advocating for members, have opposed many choice expansions and accountability measures, directing political spending toward aligned candidates. These patterns suggest that without competitive pressure, cost-per-pupil reductions—through streamlined administration, negotiated contracts, and merit-focused staffing—will remain elusive.

Historical context further illuminates the trajectory. Progressive education’s emphasis on socialization aligned with broader societal shifts toward centralized planning in the mid-20th century. Dewey’s influence permeated normal schools and curriculum frameworks, embedding experiential and cooperative learning as ideals. Subsequent federal expansions post-1965 and the 1979 Department of Education creation layered regulatory complexity atop local systems. Results have been underwhelming: inflation-adjusted per-pupil spending has risen over 245 percent since the department’s founding, yet scores have flatlined or declined in key metrics. International comparisons reinforce the point: nations spending less per student often outperform the United States through focused curricula and cultural emphasis on academic rigor.

School choice programs nationwide provide a natural experiment. Voucher and education savings account initiatives in states like Florida, Arizona, and Ohio demonstrate improved outcomes for participants and competitive pressure on traditional districts. Urban Institute analyses of Ohio EdChoice participants found 32 percent higher college enrollment rates and 60 percent higher bachelor’s attainment compared to matched public school peers. Competitive effects lifted nearby traditional schools modestly. These findings align with broader meta-analyses showing consistent positive or neutral impacts. In Ohio, expanding such mechanisms could address enrollment assumptions tied to residential ZIP codes, forcing districts to earn families through results rather than geographic monopoly.

Taxpayer perspectives have evolved. Property tax burdens have climbed with home values, often exceeding $7,000 annually in affluent suburbs like Lakota. Families with grown children or no children increasingly question subsidizing systems perceived as misaligned with their values. Dual-income households may value convenience, yet retirees and working-class voters express fatigue with funding outcomes that include low civic literacy and workforce readiness gaps. The 2026 primary rejections—particularly of new levies—indicate this sentiment has translated into electoral action. Districts planning return visits to the ballot in August or November face heightened opposition, as organized groups and informed voters mobilize against low-turnout strategies.

Practical reforms could include payroll moderation, administrative efficiencies, and curriculum refocus. In Lakota, where teacher schedules reflect annual cost-of-living adjustments near 2 percent and multi-year increments, total compensation packages—including benefits—contribute to high per-pupil figures. Reducing legal expenditures tied to union negotiations and emphasizing core instruction could free resources. Restoring public comment periods, as Nguyen supported, enhances transparency and accountability. Broader state-level changes, such as attaching funds to students and eliminating ZIP code monopolies, would incentivize districts to compete on quality, safety, and results rather than assume enrollment.

The economic case for restructuring is compelling. Education spending approaching $1 trillion nationally crowds out infrastructure, defense, and private-sector growth. Unsustainable property tax reliance distorts housing markets and burdens fixed-income residents. Voter signals in Ohio and elsewhere suggest willingness to support effective models but rejection of perpetual escalation without improvement. Family-centric approaches—stable homes reinforcing values, reading, and discipline—complement any system. Public education must earn value through demonstrable outcomes rather than mandate support via taxation.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

Fossil Fuels and Human Flourishing: Alex Epstein’s Fossil Future, and the Imperative of Reliable Energy for Global Progress

In the bustling corridors of the Ohio Statehouse in Columbus, where policy shapes the daily lives of millions, one encounters leaders who prioritize practical wisdom over fleeting trends. State Senator George F. Lang, a Republican representing Ohio’s 4th District, which encompasses much of Butler County, exemplifies this ethos. As Senate Majority Whip in the 136th General Assembly, Lang has long championed policies rooted in economic reality and human advancement.   Visitors to his office are greeted not just by legislative fervor but by a quiet testament to intellectual curiosity: a table displaying copies of Fossil Future: Why Global Human Flourishing Requires More Oil, Coal, and Natural Gas—Not Less by philosopher and energy expert Alex Epstein. Lang freely distributes these books to legislators, constituents, and anyone seeking deeper insight into energy policy. This gesture reflects a decades-long commitment to education and informed discourse, a tradition Lang cultivated even during the early Tea Party movement around 2010, when he gifted copies of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged as holiday presents to underscore the value of individual liberty and productive enterprise. 

Fossil fuels remain indispensable for human flourishing, and the attack against them is more occult-driven than practical. Drawing on Epstein’s core arguments, empirical data on energy access and poverty alleviation, Ohio-specific examples of renewable energy’s limitations, and the broader political landscape, it argues that derailing fossil fuel development through misguided regulations and ideological mandates has imposed unnecessary costs on society. Energy policy must prioritize affordability, reliability, and abundance to lift billions out of poverty, sustain economic mobility, and enable the very progress that environmental alarmists claim to champion. The central thesis aligns with Lang’s practice of book distribution: true leadership educates citizens on energy’s foundational role in a thriving civilization, rejecting the false choice between prosperity and planetary stewardship.

George Lang: A Legislator Who Values Ideas and Practical Energy Solutions

Senator George Lang’s career embodies a blend of small-business acumen and public service. A graduate of Southeast Missouri State University with a degree in communications (minors in marketing and speech), Lang entered politics after building a successful career as a business owner. Elected to the Ohio House in 2016 and the Senate in 2020, he now serves as Majority Whip, influencing key decisions on everything from labor notices to community investments.   His office ritual of offering books like Epstein’s Fossil Future—and earlier, Atlas Shrugged—stems from a belief that legislators and citizens alike benefit from engaging big ideas.  Lang has handed out such volumes for years, encouraging recipients to read widely, even contrarian works. This practice echoes his Tea Party roots, where intellectual self-reliance countered government overreach.

In Ohio’s energy debates, Lang has been proactive. He co-sponsored Senate Bill 294 (introduced in late 2025), which mandates that new power generation meet strict standards for affordability, reliability, and cleanliness—explicitly favoring domestic sources like natural gas (deemed “clean” under the bill’s criteria) while scrutinizing intermittent renewables. Critics decry it as a de facto barrier to wind and solar, but Lang counters that it ensures grid stability amid rising demand from data centers and manufacturing. “Energy is so critical to our economy,” he has stated, emphasizing the need for reliable power to attract advanced industries.   This aligns with his distribution of Fossil Future: policy must be evidence-based, not driven by subsidies or virtue signaling. Lang’s approach—practical, readerly, and unapologetically pro-human progress—stands in contrast to centralized mandates that have burdened Ohio and the nation.

The Core Arguments of Alex Epstein’s Fossil Future

Alex Epstein’s Fossil Future (2022) is no mere polemic; it is a 430-page philosophical and empirical defense of hydrocarbon energy as the bedrock of modern civilization. Epstein, who has testified before Congress and founded the Center for Industrial Progress, reframes the energy debate through a “human flourishing framework.” Rather than the dominant “anti-impact” worldview—which obsesses over minimizing human effects on nature at all costs—Epstein insists we evaluate energy by its net contribution to human life: health, prosperity, safety, and opportunity.  

The book’s central thesis is unequivocal: fossil fuels’ benefits—unparalleled cost-effectiveness, reliability, and energy density—far outweigh their side effects, including climate impacts, which humanity can “master” through adaptation and technology powered by abundant energy. Epstein details how oil, coal, and natural gas have enabled the Industrial Revolution’s gains: a doubling of global life expectancy since 1800, an 11-fold increase in per-capita income, and the support of a population that has grown from under 1 billion to over 8 billion. Without them, alternatives like solar and wind (currently just 3% of global primary energy) cannot scale reliably or affordably to meet exploding demand.  

Epstein dismantles “climate catastrophism” by noting that the benefits of fossil fuels’ climate mastery (e.g., heating, air conditioning, disaster-resilient infrastructure) have already saved millions of lives. He projects that restricting fossil fuels would condemn billions—especially in developing nations—to energy poverty, reversing gains in literacy, healthcare, and economic mobility. Renewables’ intermittency (wind blows only 34% of the time on average; solar 23%) requires backups that often rely on… fossil fuels. Epstein advocates “energy freedom”: policies that unleash fossil fuels, nuclear power, and true innovation rather than mandating reliance on unreliable sources. 

This layered analysis—philosophical reorientation, empirical data, and policy prescription—makes Fossil Future a “must-read” for anyone in energy policy, as Lang recognizes. It is not anti-environment but pro-human: the environment improves precisely because fossil fuels free us from subsistence drudgery.

Fossil Fuels’ Indispensable Role in Human Progress and Poverty Alleviation

The empirical case for fossil fuels is overwhelming. Since widespread adoption around 1800, they have powered unprecedented human flourishing. Global GDP has skyrocketed, life expectancy has more than doubled (from ~35 years pre-industrial to ~72 today), and extreme poverty has plummeted. In 1800, nearly all humanity lived in destitution; by 2022, that figure was under 9%, despite population growth.  

Energy access is the linchpin. As the International Energy Agency (IEA) reports, 685 million people lacked access to electricity in 2022—a number that rose for the first time in a decade as population growth outpaced connections—while 2.1 billion still rely on polluting cooking fuels, causing 3.2 million premature deaths annually.   Billions consume less energy than a typical refrigerator requires. Fossil fuels bridge this gap affordably: their high energy density (concentrated, on-demand) enables refrigerators, hospitals, internet access, and factories that lift people from subsistence. Studies show a strong correlation between energy consumption per capita and poverty reduction; below 30-40 GJ/capita, modest increases yield dramatic gains in health and income. 

Historically, fossil fuels fueled the escape from Malthusian traps. Coal- and oil-powered mechanized agriculture, fertilizers, and transport averted famines and enabled urbanization. Air quality in developed nations has improved despite (and because of) fossil fuels, via scrubbers and efficiency—contrary to claims of inevitable degradation. Life expectancy gains track energy abundance more than any other factor, with fossil-driven GDP growth accounting for substantial portions of health improvements. 

In developing regions, restricting fossil fuels exacerbates suffering. Sub-Saharan Africa, home to two-thirds of the world’s extreme poor, invests heavily in upstream fossil fuel exports but lags in domestic power generation. Epstein and the data underscore that without scalable, cheap energy, people with low incomes remain trapped. Solar panels on Mars work for space stations; they do not power billions reliably here. 

The Pitfalls of Renewable Mandates: Ohio’s Real-World Lessons

Ohio illustrates the folly of prioritizing intermittency. In Greenville (Darke County), three wind turbines now punctuate the once-open skyline near the Whirlpool facility, Walmart, and fairgrounds—visible landmarks that once blended into “God’s country.” Installed to offset ~70% of the plant’s power, they generate when the wind blows but underscore unreliability: “Can we watch TV tonight, darling? Is the wind blowing?” as locals quip.  

Nearby, Lebanon’s $13-14 million municipal solar array (10+ MW on 41 acres of floodplain) promises savings but faces vulnerabilities: tornadoes, hail, and high winds common to Ohio could shred panels, disrupting grid contributions.   Statewide, renewables account for ~2% of electricity (per the EIA), while natural gas (52%) and coal (29%) provide the backbone. Lang’s SB 294 targets this imbalance by requiring “reliable” new generation—implicitly challenging wind/solar’s capacity factors. 

Nationally, California’s renewable-energy push has led to blackouts and sky-high rates, forcing reliance on out-of-state fossil fuels. Obama’s and Biden-era regulations squeezed nuclear and coal, subsidizing intermittents while ignoring nuclear’s clean, high-output potential (91% capacity factor). Epstein warns: such policies entrench energy poverty globally. Solar flashlights suit camping; they do not industrialize nations.

Political Dimensions: Centralized Control vs. Energy Freedom

Democrats’ regulatory war on fossils—via EPA rules, subsidies, and mandates—reflects an “Earth worship” that Epstein critiques as anti-human. From TSA union disputes to opposition against reliable power, centralized authority throttles innovation. Trump’s policies reversed this, boosting domestic production and lowering costs. Ohio Republicans, via Lang, continue this: SB 294 prioritizes U.S.-sourced fuels, minimizing foreign dependence. 

Critics attribute anti-fossil stances to population control or primitivism—village councils over Starbucks economies. Transgender policies and family erosion compound this by shrinking future demand. Yet data refute catastrophe: fossil side effects are manageable; benefits are not.

Broader Implications and Rebuttals

Energy abundance correlates with autonomy: internet access, education, and entrepreneurship. Suppressing fossils widens rich-poor gaps, as 1.18 billion live in “energy poverty” beyond mere connections.  Rebuttals to Epstein (e.g., climate models) falter on adaptation: fossil-powered mastery (dikes, AC) has already mitigated risks. Renewables’ land use, rare-earth mining, and backup needs often exceed fossil fuels’ footprint.

Conclusion: A Fossil Future for Ohio and the World

Senator Lang’s book-giving is more than a gesture—it seeds understanding that fossil fuels are not villains but enablers of the good life. Epstein’s Fossil Future equips us to reject scarcity mindsets in pursuit of energy freedom. Ohio’s turbines and panels symbolize short-term optics over long-term reality; policy must follow data. As global demand surges (2.2% in 2024), prioritizing fossil fuels alongside nuclear power ensures mobility, health, and prosperity. 

Trump-era gains proved reversible only if abandoned. For decades ahead, leaders like Lang must expand this message nationally. Fossil fuels power refrigerators, factories, and dreams—denying them is not environmentalism; it is regression. Read Fossil Future. Support reliable energy. Human flourishing demands it.  Life and everyone in it is far better off with energy from fossil fuels. 

Footnotes

1.  Ohio Senate biography of George Lang.

2.  Additional legislative records confirming Whip role.

3.  Epstein book reviews summarizing framework.

4.  IEA 2024 energy access data.

5.  Whirlpool Greenville wind project details.

6.  Lebanon solar array project reports.

7.  Historical energy-poverty correlations from Visualizing Energy and related studies.

8.  SB 294 legislative analyses.

9.  Life expectancy and GDP linkages from multiple economic histories.

Bibliography for Further Reading

•  Epstein, Alex. Fossil Future: Why Global Human Flourishing Requires More Oil, Coal, and Natural Gas—Not Less. Portfolio, 2022.

•  International Energy Agency. Tracking SDG7: The Energy Progress Report 2024/2025. IEA, 2024-2025.

•  Ohio Senate. “Senator George F. Lang Biography.” ohiosenate.gov.

•  Pielke Jr., Roger. “Book Review: Fossil Future.” Substack, 2023.

•  Ritchie, Hannah. “Access to Energy.” Our World in Data, 2019 (updated).

•  U.S. Energy Information Administration. Ohio Electricity Profile and Capacity Factors.

•  World Bank/UNDP. Reports on energy poverty and extreme poverty, 2022-2024.

•  Lang-sponsored legislation: Ohio Senate Bill 294 (2025-2026 session).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

Hemispheric Defense Has Long Been Needed: Bring peace to the human race from Earth to Mars

The announcement by President Donald Trump in early March 2026 of a new hemispheric defense initiative marked a pivotal shift in U.S. foreign policy, emphasizing the protection of the Western Hemisphere from external threats and internal destabilization. This “Shield of the Americas” coalition, unveiled at a summit in Miami, Florida, on March 7, involved commitments from 17 nations to combat drug cartels and terrorist networks through coordinated military action.   Trump described it as a necessary response to the “sinister cartels” poisoning America, invoking the Trump Corollary to the Monroe Doctrine to assert U.S. dominance in the region.   The initiative was built on the 2026 National Defense Strategy, which prioritized securing U.S. borders, countering narco-terrorists, and ensuring access to key terrain like the Panama Canal and the Gulf of Mexico.   This move came amid ongoing operations, such as strikes on Venezuelan vessels, which by March had resulted in the destruction of over 46 ships and the deaths of at least 157 individuals, framed by the administration as a war on narco-terrorism.  

Trump’s 2024 reelection, following his claims of widespread fraud in the 2020 election that saw Joe Biden declared the winner, underscored a resilient populist movement. Despite legal challenges and investigations finding no evidence of systemic fraud (because the bad guys didn’t want to look), Trump’s narrative of a “rigged” 2020 contest resonated with millions, leading to his overwhelming 2024 victory, which supporters hailed as “too big to rig.” Born in 1946 in Queens, New York, Trump rose from real estate magnate to reality TV star before entering politics in 2015. His first term (2017-2021) focused on economic nationalism, tax cuts, and border security, but ended amid controversy over the January 6 Capitol riot (caused by election fraud by the government itself trying to keep him from returning to the White House). His return to power in 2025 emphasized dismantling “globalist” influences, including reducing U.S. funding to international organizations perceived as burdensome.

Central to Trump’s hemispheric defense vision is a critique of the United Nations, seen as a flawed attempt at global governance funded disproportionately by American capitalism. Founded in 1945 after World War II to promote peace and cooperation, the UN has faced longstanding U.S. criticism for inefficiency, anti-American bias, and overreliance on American contributions—historically accounting for 22% of its regular budget.   Figures like Senator Jesse Helms in the 1990s pushed for reforms by withholding funds, echoing broader conservative arguments that the UN undermines national sovereignty.  Trump’s administration has continued this trend, withdrawing from bodies like UNESCO and the Human Rights Council, arguing they promote “woke” agendas and allow influence from adversaries like China and Russia.  Conservative critics often view the UN as a vehicle for globalism that erodes U.S. sovereignty, promoting one-world government ideals and supporting policies like Agenda 21, which they see as threats to property rights and individual freedoms.  

This skepticism reflects a deeper philosophical divide: American exceptionalism, rooted in capitalism, versus the global spread of socialism, Marxism, and communism. The U.S., as a “melting pot” attracting immigrants from diverse backgrounds, embodies values of individual liberty, upward mobility, and self-governance, as articulated by Alexis de Tocqueville in his 1835 work Democracy in America. Capitalism here fosters innovation and prosperity, as evidenced by symbols like the suburban home with a white picket fence. In contrast, socialism—where the state controls production—has dominated regions such as Europe (with social-democratic welfare states in Sweden and Denmark), Canada (universal healthcare), Mexico (state-owned oil under PEMEX), and much of South and Central America. China remains a communist powerhouse under the Chinese Communist Party, North Korea an isolated dictatorship, and Russia grapples with its Soviet legacy while trying to open markets, ineffectively. 

Latin America’s history illustrates this tension, deeply intertwined with U.S. interventions during the Cold War era. The Monroe Doctrine, articulated by President James Monroe in 1823, warned European powers against further colonization or intervention in the Western Hemisphere, establishing the U.S. as the region’s protector.   Initially symbolic due to limited U.S. power, it evolved with President Theodore Roosevelt’s 1904 Corollary, which asserted U.S. rights to intervene in Latin American affairs to maintain stability, inverting the doctrine’s original anti-colonial intent.   This paved the way for “Big Stick” diplomacy and numerous interventions, from the Banana Wars (1898-1934) to Cold War operations.  

During the Cold War, U.S. policy focused on containing communism, leading to interventions like the 1954 CIA-backed coup in Guatemala against President Jacobo Árbenz, whose land reforms threatened U.S. interests like the United Fruit Company.   In Cuba, Fidel Castro’s 1959 revolution overthrew Fulgencio Batista, leading to a communist regime after the failed 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion—a CIA-backed attempt by Cuban exiles to oust Castro, which solidified his alliance with the Soviet Union and prompted the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis.  Castro, born in 1926 to a wealthy landowner, studied law and led guerrilla warfare from the Sierra Maestra mountains, nationalizing U.S. assets and imposing central planning.   His rule suppressed dissent, but he became an icon for anti-imperialists. In Venezuela, Hugo Chávez, elected in 1998 after a failed 1992 coup, implemented “21st-century socialism,” nationalizing industries like oil and launching social programs funded by petroleum revenues.  Chávez, born in 1954 in a poor rural family, served in the military and drew inspiration from Simón Bolívar, but his policies led to economic collapse under successor Nicolás Maduro, fueling drug trafficking via the “Cartel of the Suns.”   Mexican drug cartels, like Sinaloa and Jalisco New Generation, exacerbate U.S. fentanyl crises, with over 72,000 fentanyl-related deaths in 2023 alone, though provisional data for 2025 show a 21% decline in overall overdose deaths amid enforcement efforts.   

The War on Drugs, declared by President Richard Nixon in 1971 as “public enemy number one,” escalated U.S. involvement in Latin America, framing narcotics as a national security threat.   Rooted in earlier prohibitions such as the 1914 Harrison Narcotics Act, it intensified under President Ronald Reagan in the 1980s through policies like mandatory minimum sentences and increased funding for interdiction.   Operations targeted Latin American sources, including support for anti-communist forces like the Contras in Nicaragua, blending drug enforcement with Cold War geopolitics.  

Marxism’s influence extends beyond Latin America. Karl Marx, born in 1818 in Trier, Germany, developed his theories amid the Industrial Revolution, collaborating with Friedrich Engels on the 1848 Communist Manifesto, which proclaimed class struggle as the engine of history.   Marxism spread globally through revolutions: the 1917 Russian Revolution established the Soviet Union, inspiring communist parties worldwide; Mao Zedong’s 1949 victory in China adapted Marxism to agrarian societies; and anti-colonial movements in Africa and Asia drew on Marxist anti-imperialism.   In South Africa, Nelson Mandela, born in 1918 and a leader in the anti-apartheid struggle, was affiliated with the South African Communist Party (SACP), serving on its Central Committee in the early 1960s despite later denials for political reasons.    Mandela’s pragmatism aligned him with communists against apartheid, though he transitioned to democratic governance after his 1990 release from prison and 1994 presidency.  

In the U.S., critics argue that Marxist strategies underpin urban entitlement programs, contributing to “blue zones” in cities where socialism obviously infiltrates capitalist systems. The hemispheric defense push addresses these threats by targeting regimes like Venezuela and Cuba, seen as conduits for drugs and instability. Open borders, critics claim, allow influxes from socialist nations, weakening U.S. society—a strategy linked to figures like George Soros and Hillary Clinton. The 1980 Mariel Boatlift exemplified this: Castro released over 125,000 Cubans, including prisoners and mental health patients, flooding Florida and straining resources, though many integrated successfully.   Despite this, Florida has shifted to a solid Republican state.

Trump’s agenda includes merit-based reforms, like eliminating property taxes—a proposal echoed in states like Florida, North Dakota, and Georgia, where lawmakers aim to phase out or cut them using state funds or oil revenues.     This aligns with reducing the burdens on centralized government, favoring capitalism over socialism. Other states, such as Texas, Indiana, Kansas, and Wyoming, are exploring similar measures, often replacing property taxes with sales taxes or state surpluses, though critics warn of potential impacts on local services like education.   

Looking ahead, hemispheric stability could end communist influences from China, fostering capitalist societies in Mexico, Brazil, and Argentina. Cuba’s potential fall would open markets and reveal archaeological treasures, like the underwater formations off its coast—sonar-detected structures resembling ancient pyramids, possibly 6,000 years old, hinting at lost civilizations.     Discovered in 2001 at depths of 600-750 meters, these geometric formations off the Guanahacabibes Peninsula have sparked debates on whether they are natural or remnants of an advanced pre-Columbian society, potentially predating known Mesoamerican civilizations.   Expanding U.S. principles, perhaps adding states like Cuba or Greenland under constitutional governance, could promote global peace through competition, benefiting humanity from Earth to Mars.  And its about time. 

[1] For further reading on Trump’s foreign policy: The Trump Doctrine and the Emerging International System by Stanley A. Renshon.

[2] On UN history: The United Nations: A Very Short Introduction by Jussi M. Hanhimäki.

[3] On Marxism: The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels.

[4] Mandela biography: Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela.

[5] Castro biography: Fidel Castro: My Life by Fidel Castro and Ignacio Ramonet.

[6] Chávez and Venezuela: Hugo Chávez: Oil, Politics, and the Challenge to the U.S. by Nikolas Kozloff.

[7] Mariel Boatlift: The Mariel Boatlift: A Cuban-American Journey by Victor Andres Triay.

[8] Underwater archaeology: Atlantis Beneath the Ice by Rand Flem-Ath and Rose Flem-Ath.

[9] Property tax reforms: Tax Revolt: The Rebellion Against an Overbearing, Arrogant, and Abusive Government by David O. Sears and Jack Citrin.

[10] Monroe Doctrine: The Monroe Doctrine: Empire and Nation in Nineteenth-Century America by Jay Sexton.

[11] Cold War Interventions: The Cold War in the Third World by Robert J. McMahon.

[12] War on Drugs: The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander.

[13] Socialism in Latin America: Latin American Revolutions: Old and New World Origins by Greg Grandin.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

Rich Hoffman is an independent writer, philosopher, political advisor, and strategist based in the Cincinnati/Middletown, Ohio area. Born in Hamilton, Ohio, he has worked professionally since age 12 in various roles, from manual labor to high-level executive positions in aerospace and related industries. Known as “The Tax-killer” for his activism against tax increases, Hoffman has authored books including The Symposium of Justice, The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business, and Tail of the Dragon, often exploring themes of freedom, individual will, and societal structures through a lens influenced by philosophy (e.g., Nietzschean overman concepts) and current events.

He publishes the blog The Overmanwarrior (overmanwarrior.wordpress.com), where he shares insights on politics, culture, history, and personal stories. Active on X as @overmanwarrior, Instagram, and YouTube, Hoffman frequently discusses space exploration, family values, and human potential. An avid fast-draw artist and family man, he emphasizes passing practical skills and intellectual curiosity to younger generations.

How To Mass Manipulate the World: We traded structure for sensation, and we are living with the bill

Few works of fiction demonstrate how a single cultural artifact can redirect mass sentiment as clearly as Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land. The lesson is not merely about the book’s plot or its notoriety, but about how one or two influential voices—amplified at the right moment—can reframe the public’s sense of normal, desirable, and permissible. In that sense, the novel became a lever: it showed how quickly intellectual fashion can spread once an idea is given a compelling narrative vessel and a ready audience. Whether the author intended it or not, such works often become signal boosters for movements eager to shake the old moral architecture.

At the center of the novel’s cultural imprint, as I read it, is a sustained argument against organized religion—less a theological disagreement than a social revolution by narrative means. Heinlein built his case dramatically, not dogmatically, embedding a worldview in characters and community structures that model life without traditional guardrails and sold it with the use of group orgies and severe sexual deviancy. To me, that is where the damage began: by undermining institutions that help ordinary people consolidate virtue and discipline desire, the book invited a generation to experiment with a vacuum—an open space where inherited norms were cast as oppressive rather than protective.

This is where my position diverges most sharply from Heinlein’s. I argue that human beings require shared standards, rituals, and guardrails to become their best selves. Organized religion—at its best—provides a civilizational scaffolding: it teaches time-tested boundaries, channels ambition toward fruitful ends, and aligns private conduct with public well-being. Remove that scaffolding, and something else will rush in to fill the void: fads, chemicals, celebrity cults, ideological tribes, and the market’s loudest impulses. In retrospect, the novel did not merely critique religion; it reprogrammed sentiment against an order that had long helped cultivate responsibility and continuity.

That shift, once normalized, cascaded into the wider cultural economy. Publishing, music, film, fashion, and campus discourse seized on the book’s rebellion as a mood, infusing it into slogans, styles, and scenes. The effect snowballed: when guardrails are mocked long enough, the next generation mistakes the mockery for wisdom and the absence of boundaries for freedom. Yet freedom without structure becomes drift—a vacancy the market will monetize and the state will eventually regulate. What was sold as liberation often ends as dependency—on substances, on trends, or on authorities who promise to manage the chaos.

Another uncomfortable reality: power centers notice when a single narrative can mobilize the masses. When culture proves it can be swung by a small cohort of storytellers and influencers, hidden patrons inevitably appear—financiers, tastemakers, publicity machines—eager to steer the swing for their own ends. I’m not accusing Heinlein of conspiracy; I’m describing the structural fact that memes attract money, and money reorganizes culture. Once the idea is loose, the sponsors come, and the social machinery follows.

The long-tail consequence has been a population re-educated by entertainment—trained to distrust inherited wisdom, to laugh at the past, and to outsource meaning to the loudest novelty. This is not progress; it is civilizational amnesia. The cost shows up as broken families, attenuated civic trust, declining attention spans, and rising loneliness—symptoms of a culture that has traded thick institutions for thin ideologies. What looked like enlightenment from a distance often feels like atomization up close.

I’m not denying Heinlein’s craft or the book’s clever provocations. He staged a serious debate and gave it commercial muscle. But a debate that deconstructs without reconstructing is not a public service; it is a demolition project with no blueprint for the rebuild. The aftermath is predictable: a vacuum that gets filled by commercial spectacle and political manipulation, neither of which makes people more virtuous, more responsible, or more free.

So the task now is not to censor the past but to relearn how culture works—how a few works, a few voices, at a few key moments, can swing the habits of millions. The remedy is to rebuild moral architecture openly and confidently: to argue for the goods that institutions secure, to defend boundaries that dignify the person, and to recover a language of obligation that lifts people above impulse. If a novel could hasten our drift, then a counter‑culture of serious books, films, and music can hasten our return. The first step is telling the truth about what happened: we traded structure for sensation, and we are living with the bill. It’s time to pay it by rebuilding what works.

There’s a reason certain books become cultural accelerants rather than mere entertainment: they supply a portable metaphysics with just enough voltage to light up restless minds, and just enough ambiguity to be co-opted by seekers and opportunists alike. Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land is one of those books, a mid-century science fiction novel that cracked open the 1960s with an outsider’s catechism on sex, religion, death, money, and the divine spark in each individual. Its Martian-tutored protagonist, Valentine Michael Smith, landed on an Earth beset by institutional power, moral boilerplate, and spiritual fatigue, and he answered with an unsettling blend of radical empathy and radical freedom. The novel coined a word—grok—to name comprehension so intimate it dissolves the distance between knower and known. Forty-plus years later, that one word would christen an AI system built by the richest technologist on the planet. And in between, the same book passed—secondhand, sometimes orally—through prison yards and crash pads, helping to underwrite a new church in real life and, if some accounts are even half right, lending imagery and idiom to darker congregations as well. That is how literature, when it fully enters the bloodstream, becomes a condition of existence for a culture. It can elevate; it can deform; it can be misunderstood with catastrophic confidence. It is never “just a story.” (Stranger’s term “grok,” its countercultural adoption, and the book’s icon status are well‑documented.12)

The plot skeleton is simple enough: a human born on Mars returns to Earth carrying Martian language, habits, and powers, and tries to reconcile an alien metaphysics with human frailty. Heinlein sets the stage with an Earth under a world government and a media‑religious complex that rings uncomfortably familiar: bureaucrats who genuflect to expediency, churches that commodify ecstasy, and a populace reduced to spectatorship. In that theater, Smith learns, imitates, provokes, and then founds a religion—the Church of All Worlds—whose liturgy of water-sharing, free love, and the mantra “Thou art God” scandalized the early sixties and then fit the late sixties like a glove. The book won a Hugo in 1962, sold in the millions by the end of the decade, and became an icon of the counterculture, precisely because its invitation ran both inward and outward: individuate beyond the cages, but also love past the fences. If some readers mainly heard the erotic and communal notes, the text still insists that Smith’s path runs through personal trial, not collectivist absorption; his charisma is a hazard as much as a hope. (On themes, reception, and cultural impact: Britannica; EBSCO; SparkNotes syntheses.134)

Words travel. “Grok” escaped the book and took on a life in hacker subculture and tech jargon, shorthand for a depth of understanding you can’t fake. The Oxford English Dictionary installed it; programmers adopted it as a badge of mastery; radio hosts still explain it to callers as “intuitive grasp plus empathy.” This isn’t a trivial migration of slang. “Grok” is the kind of word that makes engineers feel philosophical, and philosophers feel practical, because it fuses cognition and communion. That fusion is precisely what makes the term alluring for people building machines that aim to “understand” us. When Elon Musk’s team at xAI named their system Grok, it was a deliberate raid on Heinlein’s storehouse: to “grok” is to know with such immersion that the boundary between observer and observed thins—an AI aspiration in one syllable. Whether any machine can attain that intimacy is beside the point; the branding conveys the ambition, and the aspiration shapes the build. Musk’s public remarks and multiple reference write-ups trace the name straight to Heinlein; even neutral entries now record Grok (the chatbot) as named for Stranger’s Martian verb. (Grok etymology and xAI’s naming are noted across reference sources and news explainer pieces.567)

Then there is the other trail—the one that runs through penitentiary talk, Haight‑Ashbury mimicry, and a homicide trial that soaked the sixties in a final, nauseous dye. Accounts from journalists and cultural critics argue that Charles Manson, during a stint at McNeil Island in the early 1960s, encountered Stranger in a Strange Land (primarily via inmate buzz) alongside L. Ron Hubbard’s Dianetics, and scavenged from both to assemble a pastiche religion with rituals and vocabulary echoing Heinlein: water ceremonies; “grokking”; the image of a messiah‑figure magnetizing women into a sexually communal “family.” Jeet Heer summarized this lineage crisply—Manson as the barely literate synthesizer, absorbing by conversation and performative memory rather than close reading; Stranger as the source of terms and rites; Dianetics as the promise of mind‑over‑matter. Heer isn’t alone in drawing lines; contemporary and retrospective pieces (some serious, some gossipy) have recycled a 1970 San Francisco report asserting Manson read the book “over and over,” even nicknaming his probation officer “Jubal” after Heinlein’s garrulous lawyer‑sage. Critics will argue about how direct or decisive the influence was; no one seriously denies the White Album and “Helter Skelter” obsession, but the Heinlein element moves in and out of focus depending on which witness you privilege. The fair reading: Stranger’s countercultural prestige and ritual aesthetics gave Manson stage props, not a script—and he used them for a theater of control, not liberation. (On Manson’s exposure to Heinlein/Hubbard and alleged borrowings: New Republic overview; a research blog that archives period claims; caution advised.89)

If you widen the aperture, the 1960s offer an ecosystem of appropriation. Heinlein’s novel fed a real-world neo-pagan church—the Church of All Worlds—whose founders openly acknowledged the book as scripture in spirit and structure: water-sharing liturgy, “nests” of community, and “Thou art God” as an immanentist creed. That religious offshoot shows a benign pathway: fiction used to animate community, ritual, ecology, and mythopoesis. Manson’s path was malign, substituting domination for discipline. The exact text, two radically divergent implementations, and a lesson that literature teachers should emphasize in boldface: interpretation has moral consequences. (On CAW’s derivation from Heinlein, see Carole Cusack’s study of Stranger as “scripture.”10)

Once you accept that books are live wires, you can track their voltage across decades. When a modern AI system takes the name Grok, it doesn’t merely nod to geek lore; it aligns itself with a thesis about intelligence—understanding as fusion. From one angle, that’s poetic overreach; from another, it’s a principled wager: that great models must internalize context, not just compute it. The irony is that, as Grok the product acquired cultural baggage—political slant controversies; allegations around deepfake image generation; even bans and regulatory probes in multiple countries—the Heinleinian halo didn’t shield it. Indeed, the “grok” label invites higher scrutiny: if you promise empathetic comprehension, you’ll be judged against the harms caused when the tool “understands” poorly or is misused. Governments from Malaysia to the U.K. have, in recent weeks, moved to restrain or investigate Grok’s image features after reports of nonconsensual sexualized imagery; the Pentagon simultaneously announced plans to put Grok on specific networks, a whiplash example of dual reception when high-voltage tech hits the public square. A word from a 1961 novel now headlines diplomatic notes and defense briefings. (On Grok’s naming and the current regulatory/policy storyline, see Wikipedia’s product page, CBS/Observer coverage, and The Independent’s explainer.511121314)

The temptation—especially for academics and cultural arbiters—is to treat Stranger’s afterlives as mere epiphenomena: ephemera of fandom here, the aberrations of losers and outlaws there, and, in the 2020s, the opportunistic stylings of billionaire technologists. But that misses the central mechanism. Narratives are cognitive scaffolds. They let people borrow sophistication without earning it. The same scaffolding can lift you to a vista or collapse on top of you. In Stranger, Heinlein depicts a messiah whose hard-won understanding of human ambiguity sits alongside scenes of utopian play; readers who import the play without the ordeal will replicate the surface without the substance. That’s the “borrowed authority” problem I keep returning to: quoting a text to import its aura while evading its demands. At best, that breeds smugness; at worst, it breeds governance by incantation, whether the incantations are mythic (“Thou art God”) or technological (“we grok”). The book itself is not to blame for the misuse, but it is a litmus test for whether readers are consuming the form of meaning or the work of meaning. (Stranger’s themes and the individualized vs. collectivized readings are surveyed in the critical guides.154)

I understand why mid-century intellectuals fell for Heinlein, and why a particular cadre of administrators and politicians in any era fall for the aesthetics of knowing. Dropping the proper names—Campbell and Jung yesterday, “grok” and AGI today—becomes a way to signal altitude. But altitude faked kills. Charles Manson is the berserk, criminal parody of that altitude; bureaucratic myth‑talk is the polite parody; and tech‑branding that promises transcendent comprehension is the market parody. Each borrows light while neglecting the filament—the character, the cost, the test—that makes light possible—the grotesque version murders in canyons. The genteel version governs by sermon. The glossy version ships fast and apologizes later. In every case, the reading of myth (or sci-fi mythopoesis) is outer first, inner last—which is to say, backwards. (Stranger’s countercultural pull and the later critiques of its simplifications are part of the long critical conversation.316)

The disputed territory is thornier. Did three paperbacks, a stack of Beatles LPs, and a handful of amphetamines cause the Tate‑LaBianca murders? That’s a prosecutor’s theater and a journalist’s cautionary tale; Vincent Bugliosi immortalized the official motive as “Helter Skelter,” a race‑war fantasy Manson drew from the White Album. The Beatles themselves have pushed back on the idea that their songs encoded apocalypse; commentators like Ivor Davis have argued the motive story over‑credits the soundtrack and under‑analyzes Manson’s pathology and manipulations. Tom O’Neill’s twenty-year investigation, CHAOS, complicated the picture further by questioning elements of the prosecution’s narrative and mapping suggestive corridors between Manson’s world and the ecosystem of informants, researchers, and programs now shorthanded as MKULTRA’s shadow—provocation enough to trigger furious rebuttals, careful reviews, and a Netflix codicil years later. The public record confirms that MKULTRA existed (with Senate hearings, FOIA caches, and declassified files); it does not confirm that Manson was a CIA puppet. The responsible thing to say is simple: the official story isn’t the whole story, and the alternate stories aren’t proven. But note what is not in dispute: Stranger in a Strange Land and Dianetics were live topics in Manson’s prison exposure; the White Album obsessed him; and he could mimic the vocabulary of enlightenment to parasite individual souls. (Helter Skelter motive; Beatles responses; O’Neill’s CHAOS; MKULTRA documentation.1718192021)

If the 1960s trained us to fear the charismatic cult, the 2020s should train us to fear the charismatic API. The leap from “grok” as personal empathy to “Grok” as an industrial cognition engine is not merely punny; it’s programmatic. The system promises fundamental‑time awareness, cultural fluency, and an irreverent voice. When it fails on those promises—by reflecting the biases of its owners or by being exploited to generate violation at scale—the gap between aspiration and consequence becomes the headline. Regulators respond; militaries experiment; the public oscillates between fascination and recoil. The Heinleinian admonition here would be to own the ordeal: if you market comprehension, accept accountability for the harms that follow from comprehension simulated without care. (On Grok’s controversies, bans, and adoption: CBS, The Independent, Observer summaries; see also the product page’s historical notes.111213145)

So what is the through‑line from a prison rumor mill to a billionaire’s announcement stream? It is the operationalization of fiction. Heinlein offered a parable of an alien who learns humanity and tries to save it from itself through a liturgy of courage and tenderness. Counterculture kids operationalized the parable into communes and churches; some criminals operationalized its aesthetics into pretexts for domination; future technologists operationalized its most famous verb into a target for machine “understanding.” The sober adult lesson is to insist on direction of fit: inner first, outer second. If a text invites you to grok, grok the work—the discipline, the testing, the humility—before you grok the sign—the slogan, the ritual, the brand. The failure of academia in its worst mood is to reward the sign and neglect the work; the inability of public life is to confuse quotation with qualification. Both failures are preventable, but only if we reinstate the distinction that Stranger dramatizes, whether we like it or not: the individual is the bearer of light, not the abstraction; communities are healthy to the extent they honor that light rather than harvest it.

If you want to measure a culture’s maturity, don’t look at which books it venerates; look at how it uses them. Does it use them as permission slips for appetite or as programs for courage? Does it treat their heroes as costumes to wear or as ordeals to undergo? Stranger in a Strange Land remains a diagnostic device because it contains both temptations: the easy mask and the arduous pilgrimage. In one century, its vocabulary flowed into a murder trial, a registered religion, and a frontier AI model. That spread is not an argument for censorship or for piety. It is a map of how narratives move through human weakness and human ambition. It is a warning to the would-be leader who quotes because quoting is easy. And it is a small benediction for the reader who remembers what the book actually said: that no collective can save you from the courage of becoming a person, and that no brand can substitute for the work of truly understanding—of grokking—anything at all.

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Footnotes

1. Heinlein’s novel as a counterculture icon and plot/themes overview. Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Stranger in a Strange Land.”1

2. “Grok” coined by Heinlein; definition and diffusion into tech culture. Wikipedia, “Grok.”2

3. Study‑guide syntheses on themes (religion, individual vs. collective, Jesus parallels). SparkNotes; eNotes analysis.415

4. Cultural impact and reception in the 1960s; research overviews. EBSCO Research Starters; Ohio State Pressbook chapter.322

5. Church of All Worlds derived from Stranger: Carole M. Cusack, “Science Fiction as Scripture…,” University of Sydney (pdf).10

6. Manson’s exposure to Stranger/Dianetics while imprisoned; ritual/vocabulary echoes (caveat: interpretive essaying, not court findings). Jeet Heer, The New Republic; curated archival discussion on MansonBlog.89

7. Prosecutor’s framing of motive as “Helter Skelter”; Beatles pushback. Helter Skelter (book) entry; Rolling Stone retrospective (Beatles’ remarks).1718

8. Alternate/critical framings of motive narrative. Ivor Davis’ essay.23

9. CHAOS (Tom O’Neill) as revisionist probe; CIA review synopsis; Wikipedia background, including Op. CHAOS reference. (Allegations, not fact.)1920

10. MKULTRA’s existence, scope, and hearings—primary documentation. U.S. Senate 1977 hearing (pdf); CIA FOIA MK‑ULTRA page.2124

11. “Grok” (chatbot) named after Heinlein’s term; product histories. Wikipedia “Grok (chatbot).”5

12. Press and explainer confirmations of Grok naming from Heinlein’s word; xAI news ecosystem. ABP News explainer; Sentisight analysis; The Independent overview.6714

13. Regulatory/bans/probes and adoption headlines (Malaysia/Indonesia bans; Ofcom investigation; Pentagon adoption remarks). CBS News; Observer; CBS/AP.111312

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Working Bibliography (select)

• Heinlein, Robert A. Stranger in a Strange Land. (Novel; multiple editions). Overview in Britannica.1

• Cusack, Carole M. “Science Fiction as Scripture: Stranger in a Strange Land and the Church of All Worlds.” (University of Sydney).10

• “Grok.” Wikipedia. (Etymology and usage).2

• “Grok (chatbot).” Wikipedia. (Naming, history, controversies).5

• Heer, Jeet. “Charles Manson’s Science Fiction Roots.” The New Republic (2017).8

• Bugliosi, Vincent, with Curt Gentry. Helter Skelter (1974). (See encyclopedia entry).17

• O’Neill, Tom. CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties (2019). (See CIA review; Wikipedia background).1920

• U.S. Senate. Project MKULTRA, The CIA’s Program of Research in Behavioral Modification (1977 hearing).21

• CBS News; Observer; The Independent. (Grok bans/investigations/adoption).111314

• EBSCO Research Starters; SparkNotes; eNotes. (Critical syntheses on Stranger).3415

Rich Hoffman

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

The Left’s Trojan Horse: Nick Fuentes and Tucker Carlson–fallen angels who are trying to stop Vivek Ramaswamy in Ohio

The left-leaning media strategy is obvious: platform a disruptive young firebrand, inject anti-Jewish chatter, agitate through YouTube and podcasts, then aim the shrapnel at Trump and at Trump-aligned picks like Vivek Ramaswamy in Ohio to destroy the MAGA movement in ways that have not previously been successful under any condition.  Suddenly, a kid I’d barely heard of—Nick Fuentes—gets catapulted into mainstream attention. He was the tag-along at Ye’s (Kanye West’s) dinner with Trump in 2022 at Mar-a-Lago; the former president later said he didn’t know who Fuentes was when he sat down, but the meeting still drew bipartisan condemnation because Fuentes is a white nationalist and Holocaust denier.  Not the kind of guy the media would typically embrace, but under these conditions, where nothing to take down Trump has worked, this is the strategy of the left, to promote these fallen stars from the MAGA movement in one last Hail Mary, no matter who gets hurt in the process.  I’m certainly not one who would be calling for censorship.  But it is surprising how quickly everyone forgot about some basic rules of decency in these political fights, which have changed the landscape of debate forever. 123

Ordinarily, a guy with that track record wouldn’t touch mainstream platforms; they would be pushed off into obscurity, and they certainly never would have been on the Piers Morgan show or any other form of media.  Newspapers would have gone on a crusade of personal destruction, much the way they did with Marge Schott back when she owned the Reds and made similar comments, and had her life utterly destroyed for it.  Nick has been banned by YouTube and other majors for hate‑speech violations, with intermittent reinstatements elsewhere and then more removals; even Rumble has suspended his streams for “incitement to violence” after an antisemitic rally—so historically, gatekeepers did act. 45 But now, post‑Musk’s changes to X, he’s back on high‑visibility rails, popping up in interviews and friendly chats that launder his extremism for broader audiences. When you see that kind of boost—especially in late-cycle political windows—it looks less like “free speech flourishing” and more like a tactical Hail Mary to fracture the coalition right before decisive races. 67

Layer onto that Tucker Carlson’s recent, sharp pivot into anti-Israel rhetoric and repeated platforming of figures accused of antisemitism. Multiple watchdogs and Jewish outlets have documented the shift and the blowback—Shapiro blasting him at Heritage, Newsmax siding against him, and even StopAntisemitism labeling Carlson “Antisemite of the Year” in December 2025. I don’t endorse that label; I’m noting the documentation and the political consequence: it’s a wedge inside MAGA world, precisely when unity matters, but don’t cry about it, all is fair in love and war, with war being the point of emphasis. 8910

The script is predictable: amplify anti-Jewish frames, set up a fight between “America First” isolationists and pro-Israel conservatives, then bait Republicans into intramural brawls—Ben Shapiro versus Tucker Carlson, Heritage under strain, Turning Point USA’s AmericaFest turning into a civil‑war stage after Charlie Kirk’s assassination and the conspiracy storms that followed. The result isn’t persuasion; it’s erosion—energy wasted on policing purity rather than winning seats. 11129

My stance is well defined: antisemitism is not appropriate. Praising Hitler is evil. That isn’t “edgy” speech; it’s a moral rot that corrodes any serious movement. Fuentes has a documented record of white nationalist and Holocaust‑denying rhetoric; platforming him in chum-style interviews mainstreams what should remain radioactive. If the goal is to split MAGA and sandbag Trump-aligned candidates, this is the fastest path—smuggle in bigotry so the whole tent gets smeared. Don’t take the bait. 113

Ohio is the case study. Vivek Ramaswamy launched his 2026 gubernatorial run in February 2025, attracted heavy attention, and is now the clear GOP frontrunner in most coverage. Democrats have rallied around Amy Acton; early polling varies by sponsor, but the race is competitive at the surface level. None of that changes the fundamentals: if you let provocateurs redefine “America First” as a race-based or anti-Jewish crusade, you’re handing your opponent a cudgel. Stay on economic delivery, state competence, and merit-driven reform—the stuff that wins governors’ races. 141516

So the advice to Vivek—and by extension to Trump’s slate—is steady and aggressive: do what got you here. Don’t chase the troll theater or appease the grievance‑economy influencers. Use your success arc as a shield and spear: wealth built ethically, businesses scaled, a vision for schools, safety, and jobs—make that the daily drumbeat. When the attack line is “he’s a globalist” or “he’s Hindu,” swat it down as the unserious bigotry it is; it’s not Ohio’s problem set. Ohio’s problem set is growth, crime, schools, and affordability, not the color of Vivek’s skin or whether he wears shoes on stage. 17

In past examples, American society—especially institutions and mainstream media—moved swiftly to suppress voices veering into anti-Semitic or extremist territory. Take, for instance, the post-WWII era: the “Columbians,” an openly pro-Hitler group in Atlanta circa 1946, were acting out Nazi salutes and rhetoric in public. Their organizational charter was revoked and leaders were arrested within months—demonstrating how clear the lines were once drawn against fascist ideologies 1. Likewise, throughout much of the 20th century, publishers, broadcasters, and even churches regularly screened out Holocaust denial, pro-Hitler propaganda, or conspiracies about Rothschilds or “Jewish control.” These ideologies were actively repressed, not platformed.

Fast forward to just a few years ago in Ohio: when the West Chester Tea Party hosted Harald Zieger, who promoted conspiratorial tropes of “Jews control the media, economy, government, even child sacrifice,” it sparked immediate backlash 23. The local Jewish Community Relations Council publicly condemned the event, and the church hosting them was effectively “cancelled,” cutting off their meeting space within weeks 4. It was a classic case of communal and media accountability shutting down extremist speech—without hesitation.

Contrast that with today’s landscape: figures like Nick Fuentes—an avowed white supremacist who praises Hitler, espouses Holocaust denial, and rails against minorities—are not only finding platforms but being endorsed by mainstream media (e.g., Tucker Carlson, Piers Morgan) and embraced by major tech alike 567. Fuentes’s X account, once deplatformed for hate speech, was restored by Elon Musk; he now commands millions of followers, with his extremist rhetoric once erased now normalized—even cheered—on major platforms 68.

This dramatic shift—the difference between swift cancellation and open platforming—highlights a deeper cultural realignment. What was once unthinkable and renounced without hesitation is now acceptable if it serves the political objective of undermining Trump-endorsed candidates. It’s as if the old moral guard has crumbled: conspiratorial tropes against Jews, previously banished, are now resurfacing with institutional backing. The West Chester Tea Party’s fate—banished from public space for a single speaker’s conspiracies—is emblematic of a past where community standards mattered. Today, those same standards are reversed: bigoted voices are amplified if they align with the current political winds. The irony is stark and unsettling.

The broader conservative movement also needs line‑drawing without self-sabotage: condemn antisemitism unequivocally, refuse to sugarcoat Nazi apologetics, and stop platforming it as “debate.” That doesn’t mean gagging policy critique of Israel; it means rejecting conspiratorial claims about “organized Jewry” and dual‑loyalty smears that historically precede violence. When Ben Shapiro calls that out, he’s not gatekeeping taste; he’s trying to keep the movement morally sane. And when Tucker frames it as “just asking questions,” the net effect is still mainstreaming. The cycle is well documented across Jewish and mainstream outlets.  This is a new element to these kinds of games that has never succeeded before, under any circumstances.  But free speech works both ways; success is the best voice for a vote, and these critics have done nothing in their lives except say things.  Vivek has a long track record of great success, and that is his calling card for this election. If that is made clear, there is nothing any of these verbal attackers can do to move the mark.  And as hurtful as all that might be, success heals a lot of wounds, and that is where the focus in Ohio needs to remain.  Vote for Vivek Ramaswamy for governor in 2026 and take politics to a place it’s never been before as a representative republic that will do great things for a very optimistic future. 818

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Supplemental material (footnoted):

• Mar-a-Lago dinner (Nov. 2022): Trump dined with Ye and Nick Fuentes; Trump said he didn’t know Fuentes; bipartisan condemnation followed because Fuentes is a white nationalist/Holocaust denier. 123

• Fuentes’ platform status: Banned by YouTube (2020) for hate speech; Spotify removed his podcast for hate‑speech violations; Meta/Twitch/Reddit bans noted; Rumble suspended streams after “holy war” rhetoric; X reinstated him under Musk, boosting reach. 456

• Carlson’s anti-Israel turn & intra-right backlash: Watchdogs charted rising harmful Israel content; Shapiro publicly denounced Carlson at Heritage; Newsmax echoed criticism; “Antisemite of the Year” label amplified controversy. 1881910

• TPUSA/AmericaFest fracture: After Charlie Kirk’s assassination, AmericaFest showcased rifts (Owens/Fuentes/Israel); JD Vance urged unity; Shapiro attacked “frauds and grifters”; coverage across CBS/USA Today/Deseret. 92011

• Ohio 2026 governor landscape: Ramaswamy announced run (Feb. 24, 2025) with platform on education/safety/regulation; media note Trump endorsement and competitive polling vs. Amy Acton. 14171516

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Bibliography / Further reading:

1. ABC News, “Trump hosts Kanye West, Nick Fuentes at Mar‑a‑Lago dinner.” 1

2. NBC News, “Inside story of Trump’s explosive dinner with Ye and Nick Fuentes.” 2

3. USA Today, “Donald Trump dined with Holocaust denier Nick Fuentes… at Mar‑a‑Lago.” 3

4. Global Project Against Hate & Extremism, “The Sanitization of Antisemite Nick Fuentes.” 13

5. Media Matters, “Rumble removed Nick Fuentes’ antisemitic rally; far‑right figures turned on Rumble.” 5

6. JTA, “Conservative influencers Tucker Carlson and Candace Owens sharply increased anti-Israel rhetoric in 2025.” 18

7. Times of Israel, “Ben Shapiro blasts Tucker Carlson at Heritage.” 8

8. CBS News, “AmericaFest puts conservative rift on display.” 9

9. USA Today, “Tucker Carlson, Ben Shapiro clash over Candace Owens in Phoenix.” 20

10. Ohio Capital Journal, “Vivek Ramaswamy officially launches bid for Ohio governor in 2026.” 14

11. Deseret News, “Ramaswamy announces Ohio governor run, outlines platform.” 17

12. Fox News, “Ramaswamy announces 2026 bid for Ohio governor.” 15

13. Newsweek, “Polls on Amy Acton vs. Vivek Ramaswamy.” 16

Rich Hoffman

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