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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes

¹ General observations on Ohio demographics and Trump influence.

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

³ Non-response bias in conservative polling.

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

⁵ Trump endorsements and Ohio statewide trends.

⁶ SB 5 history and user involvement via WLW radio.

⁷ Union voter shifts toward MAGA.

⁸ Ramaswamy’s platform strengths.

⁹ Progressive demographic limitations.

¹⁰ California parallels and Steve Hilton context.

¹¹ Law-and-order reciprocity.

¹² Broader electoral math.

¹³ Ties to personal philosophy and writings.

Bibliography

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

• The Hill, Ramaswamy-Acton showdown coverage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

The Personal Cost of Putting Your Name on What You Believe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bibliography (selective for depth):

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

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

• Various Biblical Archaeology Review archives (lifelong reading).

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

The Road to Cincinnati: Navigating emotional intelligence without the temptations of corruption

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 leadership, politics, family, and personal integrity. One such book, The Project Management Blueprint by Richard Stone, published in 2024 in the post-COVID landscape, caught my attention midway through for its emphasis on an often-overlooked aspect in traditional management texts: emotional intelligence.

This focus struck me as refreshingly at odds with some of the more performative trends in modern corporate and institutional culture. Here was a practical guide acknowledging that technical skills alone do not suffice. Success in projects—and by extension, in life—requires the ability to understand and manage emotions, both one’s own and others’. Far from being a sign of weakness or compromise, emotional intelligence emerges as a tool for maintaining personal integrity amid the inevitable collisions of differing viewpoints. This essay explores that distinction at length: how cultivating emotional intelligence does not equate to corruption, but rather equips individuals to navigate human systems without eroding their core convictions.

Emotional intelligence, as framed in the book and echoed in broader management literature, encompasses self-awareness, self-regulation, motivation, empathy, and social skills. Daniel Goleman’s foundational work popularized these ideas, showing how they predict success more reliably than IQ in many interpersonal domains. In project management, this translates into listening to stakeholders, fostering buy-in, and guiding teams toward shared objectives without dictating from above. The Project Management Blueprint dedicates sections to fundamentals of emotional intelligence in business, highlighting its role in post-pandemic environments where hybrid work, diverse teams, and heightened sensitivities demand nuanced leadership.

Consider a simple family road trip as a microcosm. Imagine coordinating a vacation with a spouse of 38 years, adult children, and grandchildren. Everyone piles into multiple vehicles heading toward Cincinnati or some distant destination. Preferences clash immediately: one wants Chick-fil-A, another Cracker Barrel, a third the Love’s Travel Center. Backseat drivers offer unsolicited route advice—“Take 75 through the traffic,” or “No, the back roads are better.” If you are the driver, the path seems obvious to you. Solitude offers efficiency; alone, you could chart the course perfectly, stopping only where you choose. Yet family life demands inclusion. Granting autonomy to each contributor—listening, incorporating feasible inputs—builds investment. Dismiss them curtly, and resentment brews. The journey may take longer, but relationships endure.

This balancing act requires emotional intelligence. It is not about abandoning your knowledge of the best route but about securing collective commitment. In families, this sustains marriages and multi-generational bonds. In my own life, it has meant learning to integrate preferences without losing the destination. Personal integrity remains intact because the goal—family unity and safe arrival—transcends individual egos. Those lacking this skill often feel perpetually run over, their wisdom ignored. They retreat into isolation or authoritarian control, both of which fracture groups.

Scale this to politics and organizations. Leadership here mirrors project management: objectives must be defined, stakeholders aligned, and execution managed amid competing visions. Emotional intelligence allows a leader to solicit input, refine plans, and maintain momentum without sacrificing vision. It is the art of getting to “yes” without coercion. Critics sometimes equate this flexibility with corruption, especially in heated arenas like local governance. Yet the distinction is crucial: corruption involves trading principles for personal gain. Emotional intelligence deploys empathy and listening as strategic tools to advance principled goals.

Take the case of Ben Nguyen, the young man recently elected to the Lakota school board. Fresh out of high school and navigating college at Miami University, he demonstrates notable poise in engaging opponents. Rather than digging into ideological trenches, he sits with those holding different views, listens, and seeks workable paths forward. This is not weakness or sell-out behavior; it reflects maturity beyond his years. In a polarized environment, such capacity builds bridges while preserving conservative priorities. High emotional intelligence here serves integrity, not undermines it.

My own experiences in Butler County, Ohio, illustrate these dynamics vividly. Public discourse often swirls with accusations of pedophilia rings or institutional cover-ups involving schools, jails, and law enforcement. When cases surface—such as a Butler Tech student ending up in compromising situations at the Butler County Jail, or concerns about a former Lakota superintendent—outrage is understandable. Communities demand accountability. Yet knee-jerk narratives of grand conspiracies often overlook human realities.

As foreman of a grand jury for about a month, I gained an insider’s view. Interviewing hundreds of officers, interacting with prosecutors, and touring facilities provided context beyond headlines. What emerged was not evidence of orchestrated evil but patterns of human failure. Jails house vulnerable populations alongside seasoned criminals. Staff manage personal crises—divorces, family stresses, financial pressures—while overseeing chaotic environments. Young interns or students enter this pressure cooker. Failures occur: lapses in supervision, poor judgment, boundary violations. These are tragic and demand a rigorous response, but attributing them wholesale to systemic pedophilia conspiracies requires ignoring granular evidence.

I personally toured the Butler County Jail and spoke at length with Sheriff Jones. I investigated claims directly. The sheriff runs a professional operation under difficult constraints. Law enforcement faces resource limits, legal hurdles in prosecutions, and grand juries composed of citizens with varying emotional investments. During my tenure, emotional intelligence proved valuable in guiding deliberations—helping diverse jurors focus on the evidence, weigh testimony fairly, and advance viable cases. Prosecutors appreciated this facilitation because it moved justice forward without railroading or dismissing concerns.

This work revealed layers. Institutions staffed by thousands inevitably reflect human frailty. Employees bring personal baggage to work. Some succumb to temptations, especially in high-stress, emotionally charged settings. Biblical wisdom offers deeper remedies here: cultivating inner goodness, moral foundations, and personal restraint surpasses bureaucratic rules alone. Expecting flawless institutional safeguards ignores original sin and fallen nature. Solutions blend accountability, cultural emphasis on virtue, and realistic expectations of oversight.

Critics who cry “corruption” when leaders engage power structures—accepting invitations, building relationships, or appearing in photos—often miss this nuance. Befriending officials does not equal capture if one retains independence. Emotional intelligence discerns manipulation while leveraging alliances for the public good. In my case, access enabled deeper scrutiny of the jail incident and related matters. Understanding motives—on all sides—strengthens rather than weakens integrity. The insecure, fearing contamination, withdraw and lob accusations from afar. Those secure in their convictions engage, probe, and influence without absorption.

This principle extends broadly. In corporate management post-COVID, books like The Project Management Blueprint address new realities: remote teams, DEI pressures, shifting loyalties. Emotional intelligence counters “woke” excesses not through reflexive opposition but by prioritizing outcomes. A project manager who listens to diverse inputs yet anchors decisions in measurable goals demonstrates strength, not capitulation. Dismissing EI as soft or anti-intellectual ignores its practical power. Studies consistently link it to better team performance, conflict resolution, and project success rates.

Personal integrity withstands collaboration when rooted deeply. Marriage teaches this daily: compromising on dinner plans or vacation itineraries does not dissolve identity. Similarly, in politics, narrowing platforms to two or three resonant issues—finding common ground for voter investment—builds coalitions. Insisting on purity at every margin isolates and fails. Effective leaders identify investable objectives, accommodate feasible inputs, and steer toward results. This mirrors project management: define scope, manage stakeholders, deliver value.

The alternative—rigid insistence on one’s route regardless of passengers—may reach the destination faster but leaves fractured relationships. In families, it breeds resentment. In politics, it yields lonely ideologues who are ineffective at governance. In organizations, it produces high turnover and stalled initiatives. Emotional intelligence mitigates this without erasing self. It requires self-awareness to recognize when inputs enhance rather than derail, self-regulation to manage frustration with “backseat drivers,” and empathy to validate others’ perspectives even when they are flawed.

Critics of high-EI leaders often project their insecurities. Feeling unheard themselves, they assume accommodation signals weakness. Yet secure individuals view dialogue as a strength. They maintain core convictions—on family values, fiscal responsibility, the rule of law, and the protection of children—while navigating human ecosystems. In Butler County cases, thorough investigation honored outrage while grounding responses in facts. Grand jury processes demand persuasion: presenting evidence compellingly so citizens “buy in” to indictments. This is emotional intelligence applied to justice.

Developing this capacity is possible. The Project Management Blueprint and similar texts suggest trainable skills such as active listening, emotional self-assessment, and conflict transformation. Leaders should cultivate it within teams, creating cultures that value contribution without chaos. Biblical parallels abound—Proverbs on wisdom in counsel, Jesus engaging diverse audiences while upholding truth. Institutions cannot legislate goodness, but they can foster environments discouraging vice.

In politics, this manifests as team-building. Endorsing candidates or central committee work succeeds by highlighting shared priorities. Voters invest in relatable figures who listen yet lead. Dismissing emotional intelligence as corruption misunderstands both concepts. Corruption betrays trust for gain. Intelligence harmonizes without betrayal. The difference lies in foundation: those anchored in principle, weather influence; the unmoored drift.

My reading habit reinforces this. Amid noise, books provide perspective. Post-dinner sessions accumulate knowledge steadily. Business texts, histories, management guides—most compact, completable in five to ten hours—compound insight. Skipping television or other distractions yields surprising productivity gains. This discipline mirrors emotional intelligence: prioritizing long-term growth over immediate impulses.

Ultimately, high emotional intelligence enhances personal integrity rather than eroding it. It equips individuals to engage complexity—family logistics, political coalitions, institutional challenges—while preserving self. In a world quick to accuse compromise, we need more leaders like Ben Nguyen: young, principled, capable of dialogue. More citizens should investigate claims directly, as I did with the jail. More should read widely, reflect deeply, and practice listening without losing direction.

The road to Cincinnati, literal or metaphorical, improves with passengers who feel heard. The driver retains the wheel, guided by wisdom and conviction. Emotional intelligence ensures arrival together, relationships intact. This is not corruption. It is mature leadership, essential for thriving families, effective governance, and successful endeavors. As more people embrace it, communities strengthen against human frailties that no policy can fully eradicate. The foundation remains personal virtue, cultivated daily through habits like reading, reflection, and intentional engagement.

Bibliography for Further Reading

• Stone, Richard. The Project Management Blueprint: How Any Beginner Can Master the Art of Project Management (2024).

• Goleman, Daniel. Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ.

• Various PMI resources on EI in project management.

• Biblical texts, particularly Proverbs and Gospels, for moral foundations.

• Local Butler County public records and grand jury insights (anonymized where appropriate).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes

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

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

³ Trump-Massie history, NBC and WSJ timelines.

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

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

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

Bibliography for Further Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bibliography

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

• “Marc Elias,” Wikipedia.

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

• OpenSecrets.org vendor profile: Elias Law Group.

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

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

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

Rich Hoffman

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

Fighting Monsters: Culture at Liberty Center in Butler County that is healthy and wise

The recent Lunar New Year celebration at Liberty Center in Liberty Township, Ohio, brought back a flood of memories for me. On February 28, 2026, the mall complex—always a wonderful development just north of the I-275 loop—hosted a vibrant Lunar Festival organized by the Alliance of Chinese Culture & Arts. The event featured classic dragon and lion dances, Chinese music, Asian drums, acrobatics, Taiji demonstrations, and more, filling the space with energy and drawing crowds from the local community in Butler County. It was a positive, constructive way to launch the next phase of the year, embracing Eastern cultural traditions in a modern American setting. The performances were well-coordinated, tasteful, and joyful, with vendors offering dumplings and other treats amid the festivities, and watching the dragon soar and the lions prance reminded me of my own early experiences with these rituals.

As a teenager in the mid-1980s—around 1984, 1985, and 1986—I had one of my first real jobs at Emperor’s Wok, a highly decorated Chinese restaurant on Chester Road in Sharonville, Ohio. It was one of the most elaborate spots in Cincinnati at the time, with intricate interiors dedicated to Chinese culture. Everyone went there for authentic food in an immersive environment. The owners and family were wonderful; I got to know the cooks and the performers who handled the dragon dances. My role included customer service—dressing sharply in a bowtie to hustle tips in a classic, high-energy setting—but during Chinese New Year, it became something more adventurous. They kept the dragon costume and props in a closet year-round, and I was tasked with climbing onto the roof and the magnificent awning where cars pulled up for drop-offs. The restaurant had a grand entrance, and the parking lot would fill with spectators as the traditional dragon dance unfolded.

The dance lasted about half an hour, complete with booming drums, crashing cymbals, and the performers underneath the long, colorful dragon puppet. My job was to feed strings of thousands of firecrackers off the awning, setting them off in bursts that exploded above the dragon’s head as it twisted and leaped below. The noise, smoke, and flashes created an electric atmosphere, scaring away bad spirits in the tradition while entertaining the crowd. Firecrackers were key—loud explosions to drive off evil—and the whole thing felt proactive: humans creating their own spectacle to combat terror. Seeing similar elements at Liberty Center in 2026 brought it all rushing back: the coordination, the percussion, the acrobatics, and the sense of community triumph over unseen threats.

These dances aren’t just entertainment; they’re deeply rooted in Chinese mythology and serve a spiritual purpose. The lion dance, prominent in southern China, is often associated with the legend of the Nian (or Nian beast), a ferocious monster that terrorized villages on New Year’s Eve. Descriptions vary—some say it resembled a flat-faced lion with a horn, others a massive creature larger than an elephant with sharp teeth—but the core story is consistent. The Nian feared loud noises, bright lights, and the color red. Villagers discovered this and used firecrackers, fireworks, red decorations, lanterns, and couplets on doors to repel it. Over time, these customs evolved into annual traditions: red envelopes for luck, staying up late, and performances to ensure protection and prosperity. The lion dance mimics this defense, with performers in vibrant, red-heavy costumes embodying strength and courage. The dragon dance, dating back to the Han Dynasty or earlier, honors the dragon as a symbol of power, wisdom, benevolence, good fortune, and control over rain and water—essential for agriculture and abundance.

A key figure in many lion dances is the Laughing Buddha, or Big Head Buddha (Dai Tou Fat), often portrayed as a jolly, potbellied character in a mask, waving a fan. This isn’t the historical Buddha of Buddhism but a folk figure inspired by Budai (or Hotei), the “Laughing Buddha” known for joy, prosperity, and contentment. In the dance, he provides comic relief, teasing and guiding the lions—sometimes playfully chasing them or interacting with the crowd—while coordinating to the music. His presence adds lightness: amid the fierce combat against evil, there’s laughter, pranks, and confidence. The potbelly symbolizes a full, prosperous life, laughing in the face of danger. It’s a brilliant touch—turning fear into joy, showing human ingenuity in overcoming darkness through humor and skill. The martial arts elements, acrobatics, and kung fu displays highlight dexterity and strength, reinforcing that humans can triumph over lurking monsters.

This reverence for the spirit world extends across Eastern cultures. In Japan, Shinto temples feature similar beliefs in kami (spirits), with rituals to balance the seen and unseen. Korea and other regions share roots in warding off malevolent forces through noise, color, and performance. The thin veil between the physical and spiritual worlds means monsters or evil spirits—rambunctious and ever-present—must be managed proactively. Red wards off negativity; mirrors on costumes reflect evil back; drums and gongs create an overwhelming sound to dispel it. It’s optimistic: approach the unknown with boldness, abundance, and good fortune, much like fortune cookies that always deliver positive messages.

These patterns aren’t unique to the East. Globally, cultures confront “monsters” or paranormal threats through ritual. North American Indigenous traditions often involve drums, yelling, colorful regalia, and dances to connect with or control spirit visions—sometimes blurred by hallucinogenic plants in shamanic practices, creating colorful, terrifying projections that demand management for societal harmony. The use of red, loud percussion, and aggressive displays taps into the idea of warding off evil, much like firecrackers or mirrors. In Christianity, demons are pushed out through prayer, exorcism, or faith in divine protection. Everywhere, humans develop mechanisms to live with terror—whether invisible forces, cryptids, or existential fears.

This brings me to the Mothman legend from Point Pleasant, West Virginia (close to Ohio roots). Sightings in 1966-1967 described a large, winged humanoid with glowing red eyes, often near the TNT area (a former munitions site). It became tied to the tragic Silver Bridge collapse in December 1967, killing 46 people, turning Mothman into a harbinger of doom. Some link it to Native American lore, such as thunderbirds or curses (e.g., Chief Cornstalk’s), or even misidentified birds, such as sandhill cranes. But the archetype persists: a monster emerging seasonally or in crisis, attacking or foretelling harm. Around Christmas or New Year periods, it echoes the Nian—seasonal terror tied to transitions. Both involve communities responding: firecrackers and dances for Nian, vigilance and folklore for Mothman.

Expanding further, many speculate on shared origins for such creatures. Ancient astronaut theories suggest amphibious or serpentine beings from places like Sirius (as in Dogon African traditions of Nommo from Sirius B) influenced global myths. Chinese dragons—long, serpentine, benevolent yet powerful—might reflect memories of advanced visitors or natural phenomena, migrating from regions like the Indus Valley over the Himalayas into East Asia. From the Near East westward, dragons became adversarial (e.g., biblical serpents or European fire-breathers), but in the East, they’re auspicious. Amphibious gods (e.g., Babylonian Oannes or Dagon) appear in Sumerian and other lore, possibly tied to seafaring or aquatic extraterrestrials who seeded civilization. The persistence of monster myths—winged humanoids, serpents, beasts—suggests a universal human concern with the “other”: unseen threats in the dark, whether paranormal, spiritual, or existential.

Yet cultures don’t just fear; they innovate. Eastern approaches—optimistic, proactive, laughing at danger—offer lessons. The Laughing Buddha prances confidently amid monsters, embodying joy despite peril. Drums attack the spirit world aggressively, red banners proclaim victory, and firecrackers create human-made chaos to counter it. This mindset—embracing abundance, prosperity, and humor—helps build constructive societies. Liberty Center’s event wonderfully blended this ancient wisdom with modern community life, reminding us that engaging with other cultures enriches our own without duplicating rituals wholesale. We have strengths in the West, but learning to face “monsters”—whether literal cryptids, personal demons, or global uncertainties—builds resilience.

My time at Emperor’s Wok taught me early about cultural depth beyond surface festivity. Friendships with the family performers, the thrill of the rooftop explosions, the cultural immersion—all shaped how I view the world. Watching the 2026 festival, I saw echoes of those days: positive energy pushing back darkness, joy in the face of the unknown. It’s a healthy reverence for survival, a reminder that humans thrive by confronting fears creatively. Watch out for the monsters—they’re everywhere—but find ways to laugh, drum, and dance them away.

For further reading and research:

• Wikipedia entries on “Nian,” “Lion dance,” “Dragon dance,” and “Mothman” provide solid overviews with sources.

• Britannica’s article on the Chinese New Year details legends and traditions.

• Books like The Mothman Prophecies by John Keel explore the Point Pleasant events.

• Robert K.G. Temple’s The Sirius Mystery discusses Dogon-Sirius connections (though controversial).

• Academic sources on shamanism and global folklore, such as studies on Indigenous North American rituals or comparative mythology.

Rich Hoffman

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Its Time for NASA to get The Right Stuff, Again: They need to work faster, longer, and launches need to happen much more often

My wife and I recently returned from a trip to NASA’s Space Coast in Florida, a place that has held a special significance in my life for over 30 years. My family has owned a condominium complex in the area for decades, and we’ve visited the Cape Canaveral region dozens of times. It’s been a big part of our lives, from family vacations to watching the ebb and flow of the aerospace industry along the coast. This latest visit was particularly exciting because I wanted to get a firsthand look at the facilities tied to the Artemis program, as well as the impressive campuses of private companies like SpaceX and Blue Origin. I am deeply invested in the expansion of human presence off-planet Earth—not just for the adventure and acquisition of knowledge, but for risk mitigation against existential threats to humanity and to unlock the full potential of human intellect beyond our world. I want a thriving space economy, and I want NASA to succeed spectacularly in leading that charge. However, my observations during this trip left me with a mix of enthusiasm and constructive criticism about the current state of NASA’s Artemis program.

We timed our visit toward the end of February 2026, hoping to catch some activity. SpaceX had a busy schedule with multiple Falcon 9 launches deploying Starlink satellites, including one on a Wednesday, another on a Friday, and a Saturday night launch around 9 p.m. that I was particularly eager to witness. These launches have become so routine and reliable that they barely make headlines anymore, which is actually a good thing—it means the infrastructure is robust, dependable, and taken for granted like buses running on schedule.¹ Yet for me, personally, it was a milestone: after all these years of visiting the area, including many stays at our family condo with views toward the launch sites, I had never personally witnessed a launch until that Saturday night. I set up my camera on the balcony, and when the Falcon 9 lifted off, it was thrilling—a bright streak lighting up the night sky, followed by the booster’s controlled descent. It felt like a long-overdue personal victory, but it also underscored a deeper issue: launches from the Space Coast should be commonplace, not rare exceptions.

In contrast, the Artemis program felt stagnant. While touring the Kennedy Space Center facilities, I noticed a heavy emphasis on historical reverence—the Apollo era, the Shuttle program, the achievements of the past. There’s immense pride in what NASA accomplished when it was the only game in town, but far less visible momentum on current endeavors. The exhibits and tours celebrate the “right stuff” mentality of old, yet the gift shop selling “The Right Stuff” merchandise feels like a relic rather than a living ethos.² When stacked against the dynamic energy at SpaceX and Blue Origin, the difference is stark.

SpaceX’s operations are behind secure gates, but their pace is undeniable. During our visit, we saw a Falcon booster that had just landed on a droneship being towed into Port Canaveral on a flatbed truck, cleaned up near restaurants where cruise ships depart, and prepared for reuse—all on a Saturday, with crews working as if it were a regular weekday.³ The company had three launches in a short window that week alone, demonstrating frequency, reusability, and high employee engagement. Blue Origin’s campus, visible right outside the visitor center gates, is enormous—once an empty field, now dominated by a massive factory complex for their New Glenn rocket and lunar lander work, rivaling or exceeding large industrial sites I’ve seen elsewhere, like GE facilities in Ohio.⁴ Their footprint signals serious investment in a new space economy.

Artemis, however, hit a snag during our stay. NASA had been preparing for an early-March launch of Artemis II, the crewed lunar flyby mission using the Space Launch System (SLS) rocket and Orion spacecraft. But during final checks, including a dry run or wet dress rehearsal, issues emerged: leaks (including helium flow anomalies in the upper stage and prior hydrogen concerns) and other mechanical problems.⁵ The decision was made to scrub the March window, roll the stack back into the Vehicle Assembly Building (VAB) for fixes, and target April at the earliest.⁶ This delay was disappointing but not surprising given the program’s history of setbacks.

I offer this as constructive criticism because I genuinely want Artemis to work. The program represents NASA’s path to sustained lunar presence, eventual Mars exploration, and broader human expansion. But it suffers from several structural issues. First, the cadence is too slow. Apollo launches happened far more frequently, with shorter intervals that kept teams sharp, knowledge fresh, and momentum high.⁷ In Artemis, years pass between major flights—Artemis I was uncrewed in 2022, Artemis II is now pushed further, and landings are delayed. This leads to entropy: experienced personnel move on, retire, or shift careers, and institutional knowledge erodes. High turnover in skilled aerospace roles exacerbates this.

Second, there’s a cultural shift away from the bold, risk-accepting “right stuff” era.⁸ In the past, engineers and workers stayed late, worked extra shifts, and treated the mission as an adventure worth personal sacrifice. Today, NASA seems more bureaucratic—9-to-5 mindsets, emphasis on protocols (even lingering COVID-era restrictions in some views), and fear of media backlash from any failure. Catastrophic risks like Challenger and Columbia are memorialized heartbreakingly at the Atlantis exhibit, but those risks were part of pushing boundaries. Adventurers accepted it; today, there’s paralysis by analysis and PR caution.⁹

Third, workforce engagement appears lower than that of private firms. SpaceX recruits passionate people who work multiple shifts, weekends included, to meet aggressive schedules. NASA has fallen into patterns where not all hires prioritize the mission’s higher purpose—some treat it as just a job. This ties into broader criticisms of prioritizing diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) metrics over merit-based selection of the “best and brightest” for frontline problem-solving.¹⁰ While inclusion is valuable, the core must remain technical excellence and drive.

The recent program changes highlight these struggles. NASA announced major revisions: adding an interim mission (now Artemis III in 2027) for low-Earth orbit tests of docking with commercial landers (from SpaceX and Blue Origin), life support, and other systems—pushing the first lunar landing to Artemis IV in 2028, with potential for another that year.¹¹ This “sprinkling in” another mission before attempting a landing suggests the original Artemis III step was too ambitious given accumulated delays and risks, including ongoing Orion heat shield concerns from Artemis I (unexpected char loss, leading to trajectory adjustments rather than full redesign for Artemis II).¹² Changing reentry vectors might be more practical than material overhauls, which could take a decade, but it still reflects caution over boldness.

Historically, political decisions have hampered NASA. The Obama-era cancellation of Constellation, reliance on Russian Soyuz for ISS access, and redirection toward other priorities (like studying Islamic contributions to science) felt like a betrayal of the adventure spirit.¹³ The Trump administration’s creation of Space Force and push for resurgence helped, but sustained congressional support has been inconsistent.¹⁴ Without it, NASA can’t match the frequency of private players.

The local Space Coast economy reflects this. Property values have stabilized but not exploded as they could with consistent activity.¹⁵ Cocoa Beach and the surrounding areas thrive more from tourism and private launches than NASA events. When launches were rare, the vibrancy lagged; now, with SpaceX’s dominance, there’s renewed energy—people shopping at Publix, upper mobility in aerospace jobs, families coming to watch launches.

I remain optimistic. NASA has the infrastructure—Kennedy Space Center is ideal for launches—and partnerships with SpaceX, Blue Origin, and others. Administrator statements post-delay emphasized fixing issues quickly, increasing cadence (targeting more frequent SLS flights), and returning to basics to accelerate progress toward 2028 landings.¹⁶ But success requires cultural revival: robust second and third shifts, seven-day operations, passion over paycheck, acceptance of managed risk for exploration, and political unity beyond one administration.

I’ve seen the Space Coast transform, from Apollo’s glory to the Shuttle era to today’s commercial boom. My first personal launch sighting was exhilarating, but it shouldn’t have taken 30+ years. Launches should be daily occurrences—maybe grab pizza and watch one every evening. That’s the expectation we need: frequent, reliable, advancing humanity. Artemis can lead if it recaptures the right stuff—not just in a gift shop, but in every engineer, worker, and decision.

The space economy could double U.S. GDP contributions through innovation, jobs, and knowledge gains.¹⁷ It’s not just money; it’s human bandwidth expanding. Congress, local leaders, the White House—everyone must rally. Private companies are setting the pace; NASA should leverage that, not lag. But to do all that, NASA needs to work harder and faster. A lot faster.

Footnotes:

¹ SpaceX Starlink launches in late February 2026 included multiple launches from Cape Canaveral.

² “The Right Stuff” refers to the 1979 book/1983 film on Mercury program bravery.

³ Reusable Falcon 9 boosters routinely recovered and refurbished.

⁴ Blue Origin’s KSC facility is massive for New Glenn production.

⁵ Helium flow anomaly in SLS upper stage led to rollback.

⁶ NASA targeted April 2026 for Artemis II post-rollback.

⁷ Apollo had a higher launch frequency in peak years.

⁸ Tom Wolfe’s “The Right Stuff” captured the early astronaut/test pilot ethos.

⁹ Analysis paralysis and PR fears cited in delays.

¹⁰ Broader debates on merit vs. DEI in technical fields.

¹¹ NASA added a mission, shifted landing to Artemis IV in 2028.

¹² Orion heat shield char loss from Artemis I prompted changes.

¹³ Obama-era program shifts and ISS reliance on Russia.

¹⁴ Space Force established in 2019 under Trump.

¹⁵ Local economy tied to aerospace activity levels.

¹⁶ Post-delay press conference emphasized speed and fixes.

¹⁷ Estimates of space economy growth potential.

Bibliography / Further Reading

• NASA official Artemis updates: https://www.nasa.gov/artemis

• Artemis II delay announcements (Feb 2026): NASA blogs and press releases on helium issues and rollback.

• SpaceX launch manifests: https://www.spacex.com/launches

• Blue Origin facilities overview: Wikipedia and company announcements on KSC campus.

• Orion heat shield investigation: NASA technical reports post-Artemis I.

• Historical Apollo cadence: NASA history archives.

• “The Right Stuff” by Tom Wolfe (1979).

• Space economy reports: Various economic analyses on growth projections.

• Political history: Coverage of Constellation cancellation and Space Force creation.

Rich Hoffman

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Yes, I Think Jeffery Epstein is Still Alive: They think we’re suckers, and treat us that way

The persistent suspicions surrounding high-profile figures who vanish from public view—whether through reported death, disappearance, or institutional cover-up—often stem from a deep-seated distrust in official narratives. In an era where information flows freely and institutional authority faces scrutiny, these doubts are amplified. Conspiracy theories, while frequently dismissed, sometimes point to genuine irregularities that warrant examination. This pattern appears in cases like Adolf Hitler’s fate after World War II, Jeffrey Epstein’s death in 2019, and recent speculations about Joe Biden’s identity and health. What unites them is the recurring theme of “smoke,” suggesting potential “fire”: procedural failures, missing evidence, powerful interests that could benefit from concealment, and a history of elite impunity that makes extraordinary claims feel plausible to many.

Jeffrey Epstein’s case exemplifies this. Epstein, a financier convicted of sex offenses and accused of trafficking minors to elite circles, died on August 10, 2019, in his cell at the Metropolitan Correctional Center (MCC) in New York City while awaiting trial on federal sex-trafficking charges. The New York City Chief Medical Examiner ruled the cause of death as hanging, with the manner classified as suicide. A comprehensive 2023 Department of Justice Office of the Inspector General report detailed significant operational lapses at MCC: guards failed to conduct required checks (some falsified logs, leading to charges), Epstein was left without a cellmate despite recommendations, and he had been removed from suicide watch after a prior incident in July 2019. The report highlighted a malfunction in the prison’s Digital Video Recorder system starting July 29, 2019, which prevented recording from many cameras (though live feeds continued). Only limited footage from one camera was available for the relevant area.

These lapses—combined with Epstein’s connections to figures like Bill Clinton, Prince Andrew, Donald Trump, and others—fueled theories that he was murdered to silence him or that his death was staged for escape. The meme “Epstein didn’t kill himself” captured widespread skepticism, amplified by his associations and the elite networks he cultivated. Recent document releases in 2025-2026, including tranches from the U.S. Department of Justice totaling millions of pages, have reignited claims. Some allege Epstein is alive—perhaps in Israel, on an island, or elsewhere—based on debunked AI-generated images (e.g., a bearded man in Tel Aviv sunglasses falsely claimed as him), misread emails, or even a Fortnite username change (“littlestjeff1”) that Fortnite confirmed was unrelated and from an existing user. No credible evidence supports him being alive; forensic autopsies, including toxicology showing no unusual substances and no defensive wounds inconsistent with suicide, counter speculation. A 2025 CBS News analysis of jail video revealed no “missing minute” as some claimed, and officials dismissed homicide indicators.

Ghislaine Maxwell, Epstein’s associate, convicted in 2021 of sex trafficking and sentenced to 20 years, has remained largely silent on key details. In a February 2026 congressional deposition before the House Oversight Committee (via video from Federal Prison Camp Bryan), she invoked her Fifth Amendment right repeatedly, refusing to discuss Epstein, trafficking links, or related matters. Her attorney cited a pending habeas petition and advised her to invoke the Fifth Amendment to avoid self-incrimination. Reports describe harsh prison conditions in her low-security facility, including limited space, isolation, and a small cell with a toilet near the bunk—echoing inmate accounts of psychological strain. Some interpret her silence as pressure or as protection for powerful figures; others see it as a legal strategy amid ongoing appeals. Conspiracy claims even suggested a body double in her deposition video, but her lawyer confirmed it was her, attributing changes to jail’s toll (including prior sleep deprivation).

Similar doubts surround Adolf Hitler’s death. Official history states Hitler died by suicide in his Berlin bunker on April 30, 1945, alongside Eva Braun, with their bodies burned. Soviet forces recovered remains, including dental fragments confirmed in 2018 by French forensic experts as matching Hitler’s 1944 X-rays, proving his death in 1945. Post-war rumors, fueled by declassified FBI/CIA files on unverified sightings, claimed Hitler escaped via U-boat to South America (Argentina, Colombia, etc.), living incognito until the 1960s. These relied on hearsay, dubious witnesses, and books like Grey Wolf, often debunked as fiction or plagiarism. Recent 2025 Argentine declassifications of Nazi fugitive files (under President Javier Milei) detailed tracking of figures like Eichmann and Mengele, but offered no new evidence for Hitler. Historians note some Nazis fled to South America with ratlines and support networks, but forensic dental matches, bunker eyewitnesses (e.g., Otto Günsche, Heinz Linge), and CIA dismissals of claims as “phony” override speculation. Theories persist due to Soviet disinformation campaigns and incomplete initial body photos.

More recently, theories claim Joe Biden died in 2019 (perhaps from health issues or foul play) and was replaced by a body double, actor, clone, or masked entity for the 2020 election. Proponents cite perceived changes in appearance (ear shape, height, gait, eyes), basement campaigning during COVID, and inconsistencies in behavior. Some tie this to Epstein-related files, with unverified 2026 emails echoing claims (amplified by Donald Trump in 2025 Truth Social reposts) of Biden’s “execution” and replacement. These resurfaced amid broader distrust in elections and institutions. No evidence supports this; claims stem from manipulated videos, aging effects, satire, or debunked deepfake accusations. Biden’s family, public appearances, and medical records show a pattern of continuity. Theories echo patterns of elite manipulation but lack substantiation beyond visual anomalies that can be explained by lighting, age, or editing.

Connections between these cases include elite networks and power imbalances. Epstein’s ties to figures like Bill Gates involved philanthropy discussions, including a 2015 email invitation (from a redacted sender) to a Geneva pandemic preparedness conference on “Preparing for Pandemics.” Epstein claimed interactions with Gates on biomedical projects, modeling, or even lurid personal matters (e.g., STI treatments), but Gates’ spokespeople called such allegations “absurd and completely false,” noting no financial ties or collaboration materialized. Melinda French Gates expressed discomfort with these details in 2026 interviews. These narratives thrive in low-trust environments where official accounts seem incomplete. Procedural failures (MCC lapses, missing Hitler body photos) invite doubt, amplified by 2026 file dumps fueling QAnon-adjacent extremism, AI hoaxes, and foreign disinformation.

Yet, extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. Forensic confirmations (Epstein’s autopsy, Hitler’s teeth) counter speculation, while body-double theories lack substantiation. In a free-information age, scrutiny is valuable, but patterns of “smoke” don’t always indicate fire—sometimes they reflect negligence, coincidence, or elite impunity without full criminal conspiracy. Healthy skepticism demands evidence over assumption. As disclosures continue (e.g., ongoing Epstein file reviews, potential Maxwell appeals), patterns may clarify, but current facts point to suicide for Epstein, death in 1945 for Hitler, and continuity for Biden. Distrust in power structures is justified; baseless leaps risk undermining legitimate inquiries into real abuses and cover-ups. But then again, that’s what money can buy in these cases, a way to taint the evidence, and then shape the conspiracy within the realm of institutionalized analysis. When we say there is no evidence, it’s because we rely on evidence that has been bought and paid for to tell a story the conspirator desired. And in that way, the truth is always concealed.

Bibliography and Further Reading

• U.S. Department of Justice Office of the Inspector General. Investigation and Review of the Federal Bureau of Prisons’ Custody, Care, and Supervision of Jeffrey Epstein (June 2023).

• Charlier, Philippe et al. “The remains of Adolf Hitler: A biomedical analysis and definitive identification.” European Journal of Internal Medicine (2018).

• Various 2026 reports: CBS News (Epstein theories debunked), Reuters (AI images fact-check), NPR (Gates-Epstein ties), France 24 (Hitler escape debunk).

• Wikipedia: “Death of Jeffrey Epstein,” “Conspiracy theories about Adolf Hitler’s death” (cross-reference primaries).

• News: New York Times, Guardian, BBC on Maxwell deposition, file releases (2025-2026).

• Books: Grey Wolf (critiqued escape claims).

Rich Hoffman

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‘Prehistoric Worlds Or, Vanished Races’: The truth of the anti-giant conspiracy

Not very long ago, my daughter called me in a rush from a used bookstore in downtown Middletown, Ohio—a place that’s seen better days, rough around the edges, but still holding onto some hidden gems. She told me I had to come right away because she’d found something special and was guarding it like a treasure. When I got there, she handed me an 1885 original edition of The Prehistoric World: Or, Vanished Races by E.A. Allen. The book is barely holding together after all these years, its pages fragile and yellowed, but it’s a remarkable artifact. I bought it for a reasonable price, and it’s become one of my prized possessions. It’s not just a book; it’s a window into a time when exploration and curiosity drove inquiry, before modern institutions locked down narratives with rigid assumptions.

I’ve always been drawn to these topics. Back in high school, even as far back as fifth and sixth grade, I was ahead of my teachers in history and anthropology classes. I’d read widely—Joseph Campbell’s works, myths, comparative religion—and I knew much of what was being taught was incomplete or outright wrong. I endured it to graduate and escape that institutionalized mindset, which I saw holding back real understanding. In my twenties, I dove deeper into Joseph Campbell and even joined the Joseph Campbell Foundation. My adventures around the world, combined with a lifelong connection to southern Ohio, shaped my views. My wife and I have been married nearly 39 years, and throughout that time, we’ve visited Serpent Mound repeatedly—every few years, it’s become a touchstone for us.

Living in southern Ohio, near Middletown and Hamilton, I’ve always had a personal relationship with these ancient sites. Serpent Mound, the massive effigy serpent earthwork in Adams County, is one of the most famous, but closer to home are the mounds along the Great Miami River Valley. There’s the Miamisburg Mound, one of the largest conical burial mounds in eastern North America, built by the Adena culture around 800 B.C. to A.D. 100. It’s 65 feet tall, 800 feet around, and excavations in 1869 revealed layered construction with possible stone facing and burial goods like pipes and effigies. There are even reports that they found skulls in that mound that would fit over the top of regular people, and that these finds terrified the excavators and they abandoned the site, never to return. Yet, despite its proximity—right near where I grew up—schools never took us there on field trips. We went to other places, heard stories about Native American burials and the sadness of destruction by Europeans, but nothing about these advanced earthworks.

Then there’s the area across from Joyce Park in Hamilton, where Pyramid Hill Sculpture Park now sits near Fortified Hill, an older than 2,000-year-old ceremonial earthworks site tied to the Hopewell or earlier traditions. In Allen’s 1885 book, there’s a description and illustration of a large effigy mound or structure in that vicinity—two high peaks carved or shaped, possibly reflecting ancient alignments, even to constellations like Aries, thought to be around 5,000 years old in some interpretations. The book chronicles many Ohio River Valley mounds, dedicating significant portions to the Miami and Mississippi cultures, Mexico, the Aztecs, and global prehistoric peoples. It’s an adventurous, Victorian-era take—profusely illustrated, speculative, open to wonders without the heavy filter of modern politics or funding constraints.

What strikes me most is how this 1885 book feels more honest about discoveries than much of what came later. During that era, explorers and adventurers reported findings without preconceived notions imposed by institutions. Allen’s work reflects a time when people were excited about vanished races and prehistoric worlds, including reports of mound contents that challenged emerging narratives. Many 19th-century accounts from Ohio mounds mentioned unusually large skeletons—sometimes described as 7 to 9 feet tall—unearthed during excavations. These were often speculatively linked to biblical giants or to ancient, advanced peoples. Newspapers and reports from the time sensationalized them, but they reflected genuine observations before professional archaeology standardized explanations. Mainstream archaeology today attributes these to the Adena and Hopewell cultures—sophisticated societies with wide trade networks, astronomical alignments in their earthworks, and ceremonial practices—but dismisses giant claims as misinterpretations, exaggerations, or hoaxes based on crumbling bones and poor documentation. I have come to understand that the anti-giant conspiracy that has permeated the sciences was a secular construct intended to disprove biblical narratives, rather than to understand them, which was a critical error from that perspective.

I can’t help but feel that institutional science took a wrong turn. After the late 19th century, education and research became centralized, often prioritizing narratives that fit political or funding needs over raw observation. The mounds were attributed solely to ancestors of modern Native Americans, like the Adena (800 B.C.–A.D. 100) and Hopewell (200 B.C.–A.D. 500), who built massive geometric enclosures and burial sites with precision. These are now UNESCO-recognized, like the Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks, celebrated for their engineering and cultural depth. Yet, in my view, this framing sometimes ignores anomalies or alternative interpretations to maintain control over the story.

This ties into broader questions I’ve pondered for decades. What if these earthworks—Serpent Mound with its debated alignments to solstices (summer sunset at the head, possible lunar or solar cycles), Miamisburg’s layered burials, Fortified Hill’s ceremonial space—are remnants of something older, perhaps offshoots of lost civilizations? Some speculate connections to Atlantis or pre-Ice Age advanced societies, which were wiped out by the Younger Dryas catastrophe around 12,900–11,600 years ago—a sudden cold snap possibly triggered by comet impacts and freshwater floods that disrupted ocean currents, leading to megafauna extinctions and cultural disruptions. Graham Hancock and others link this to Plato’s Atlantis, a global flood-like event ending an Ice Age civilization, with survivors possibly influencing later cultures.

In Ohio, the mounds don’t fit neatly into short timelines. Serpent Mound’s age is debated—some radiocarbon dates suggest an Adena date around 300 B.C., others a Fort Ancient date around A.D. 1100, with possible repairs—but its astronomical sophistication and serpent symbolism hint at deeper roots. The book I found predates the heavy institutionalization that followed, capturing a spirit of adventure where discoveries weren’t immediately boxed into “primitive Indians” or dismissed. It dedicates half its 800 pages to American earthworks, showing alignments and complexities that modern textbooks often downplay.

My frustration stems from this: growing up here, no one talked about these sites in school. No field trips to Pyramid Hill or Miamisburg. No discussion of potential giant remains or alignments that “they shouldn’t even know about” at the time. It felt like a deliberate omission to preserve a simple narrative. Institutions, chasing grants and political correctness, built assumptions around limited data, leading to dead ends. Meanwhile, independent researchers and adventurers are bypassing them, returning to direct observation and instinct.

This book reminds me how much more open inquiry was in 1885, before the Smithsonian and universities solidified control. It shows we knew—or at least wondered—more freely then. We’ve gone downhill in some ways, prioritizing preservation of timelines over pursuit of truth. My daughter recognized that instinctually when she saved it for me. It’s a benchmark: a call to question, explore, and reject complacency in institutionalized science.

We need to return to that adventurous spirit—observe these mounds, ask who built them, why, how old they truly are, and how they connect to our story today. The earthworks along the Ohio River Valley aren’t just relics; they’re evidence of advanced understanding—astronomical, engineering, spiritual—that challenges easy answers. By reflecting on books like Allen’s, we see where assumptions went wrong and how rediscovering truth requires going beyond the official path.

Bibliography

• Allen, E. A. The Prehistoric World: Or, Vanished Races. Central Publishing House, 1885. (Available via Project Gutenberg and archives.)

• Ohio History Connection. “Miamisburg Mound.” ohiohistory.org.

• Ohio History Connection. “Serpent Mound.” ohiohistory.org.

• Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks. hopewellearthworks.org.

• UNESCO. “Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks.” whc.unesco.org.

• Romain, William F. Various studies on Ohio earthworks astronomy.

• Hancock, Graham. America Before: The Key to Earth’s Lost Civilization. St. Martin’s Press, 2019. (For Younger Dryas and catastrophe discussions.)

• Various 19th-century newspaper reports on mound discoveries (e.g., via historical archives).

Footnotes

1. Radiocarbon dating debates on Serpent Mound: See Monaghan and Hermann (2019) reconciliation of dates.

2. Giant skeleton reports: Often debunked as mismeasurements (e.g., Columbus Dispatch, 2019), but reflect period observations.

3. Younger Dryas Impact Hypothesis: Firestone et al. (2007) and subsequent studies.

4. Adena/Hopewell mainstream views: National Park Service, Hopewell Culture National Historical Park.

Rich Hoffman

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

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