Tag: Biblical Archaeology Review

I Know That Place: An update on the Ballroom and my experience with that specific guard shack

I sat down that Saturday afternoon with my latest issue of Biblical Archaeology Review, the one that always commands my full attention. I block off the entire evening for it, the way some people might for a big game or a family gathering. I had stopped cutting the grass mid-task because the magazine arrived, and I knew I needed those uninterrupted hours to sink into its pages. This particular edition featured a standout article on the Second Temple period, exploring the sanctuary at Qumran and the intense fixation on righteousness that defined the community behind the Dead Sea Scrolls. Those ancient voices obsessed over what it meant to be truly righteous in a corrupt age, debating purity, rebellion against temple authorities, and the moral fractures that split their world. I cherish every article like this. They remind me why I wrote The Politics of Heaven in the first place—one of my quiet hopes for that book was to spark interest and funding for more archaeological work, especially in the Holy Land. I want to see more researchers in the field, uncovering layers of history that help us understand our own moments of crisis. Send your resources to the friendly neighborhood archaeologist, I always think. Let’s dig deeper.

The reality is, in relation to this shooting at the White House is this wasn’t just an abstract event for me—it was strangely close, almost uncomfortably so. My wife and I have been to that exact guard shack multiple times. Not once or twice, but enough to where it feels familiar, almost routine. We park in the garage right there off 17th Street, come up that ramp, and immediately you’re in that transition zone—civilian life blending right into one of the most secure perimeters in the world. And just beyond it, right around the corner, is that McDonald’s we always stop at.

I know that intersection—Pennsylvania and 17th—extremely well. I know the rhythm of it. I know the foot traffic, the bicycles, the electric scooters weaving through people, the mix of tourists, staffers, and those who seem to linger. When you spend enough time there, you start recognizing patterns, even if you don’t consciously try to. You notice how people move, how they wait, how they watch.

And that’s what made this event feel so surreal.

Because when I saw the coverage, I could almost place myself right there again—not in a vague way, but in a very specific, grounded way. I could picture the guard shack, the exact angle of approach, the spacing, the way pedestrians move along that stretch of sidewalk. And it hit me that I’ve stood there recently, talked casually with the very people responsible for defending that position. Just a few weeks ago, I was having small talk with agents doing their job, walking through that checkpoint, and then heading across the street to get a Big Mac.

That kind of proximity changes how you process something like this.

It’s one thing to hear about an attack on a government building. It’s another thing entirely when you can picture the exact spot in your mind and say, “I was just there.” Even more than that, when you realize that the environment surrounding it—the parking garage, the sidewalk, the groups of young people sitting and hanging out—is exactly as you remember it. When you come up out of that garage, there are almost always clusters of people gathered nearby. Some are just resting, some are waiting, some are watching. It’s not unusual. It’s part of the atmosphere of that part of D.C.

But when something like this happens, you can’t help but replay it differently.

You start to wonder how long that individual had been there. How many times had he stood along that stretch of sidewalk? Whether he had blended into those groups I’ve seen countless times. Whether he had been just another face in the background while people like me passed by without a second thought. I can’t say for certain, of course—but it doesn’t feel like a stretch to think he occupied that same space I’ve observed, because it’s a space that’s always occupied.

And that’s what makes it unsettling.

Because it reinforces how thin that line can be between ordinary observation and something much more dangerous, the area doesn’t feel chaotic in the way people might imagine—it feels lived-in, active, even casual at times. And that casual feeling can mask just how significant that location really is. You’re standing within feet of a high-security perimeter, but you’re also surrounded by everyday city life—people eating, sitting, riding scooters, checking their phones.

That contrast is what sticks with me.

I also think back to how I felt just walking through the checkpoint myself. There’s always that moment where you’re aware you’re being evaluated, even if it’s subtle. The agents are reading you—your posture, your movement, your demeanor. It’s quick, practiced, and almost instinctive. And you trust that process. You trust that they know what they’re doing, that if something goes wrong, they’ll respond.

And in this case, they did.

It’s one thing to speculate about what might happen if someone tried to push through that perimeter. It’s another thing entirely to see that it was tested—and held. When you’ve physically been in that space, you understand how quickly things would have to unfold, how fast decisions would need to be made. There’s no pause, no reset button. It’s immediate.

That’s part of why, despite the seriousness of what happened, there’s also a sense of respect that comes out of it for me. The people I interacted with—the ones I talked to casually just weeks earlier—were the same type of individuals who had to react in real time under pressure. That’s not theoretical anymore—that’s real.

And layered on top of that is the timing. Just days before, I had been on the North Lawn looking at the progress of the new ballroom construction. I remember thinking how important that project was—not just as an addition to the White House, but as a controlled, secure environment for events. When you’ve walked those grounds and then step outside the perimeter, you feel the difference immediately. Inside, everything is structured and deliberate. Outside, it’s open, fluid, unpredictable.

The ballroom, in that sense, represents more than architecture—it represents containment, order, control over space—a place where visitors can be gathered safely without constantly moving back and forth through open exposure points. After seeing what happened, that idea carries even more weight.

Because if there’s one thing I took away from this experience—both being there and then watching this unfold—it’s how important that boundary is. Not just physically, but psychologically. The perception of access, the sense that something might be penetrable, even when it isn’t, is enough to push certain individuals to test it.

And that brings everything full circle for me.

Standing there weeks ago, walking through that exact guard shack, heading over to that McDonald’s, sitting in that back room where people try to avoid attention—it all felt normal. Routine, even. But now, looking back, it carries a different kind of clarity. Not fear, not even shock, but awareness.

Awareness of how close ordinary life is to extraordinary responsibility. Awareness of how environments can shape perceptions. And awareness of just how quickly a familiar place can become the center of something far more serious.

That’s why this felt personal.

Because it wasn’t just a story—I know that place.

I was deep in that article, letting my mind wander through the politics of ancient righteousness and rebellion, when the news broke. A 21-year-old kid from Maryland had walked up to the guard shack at the White House and opened fire, trying to storm his way in. The details were still coming in, but the image hit me hard. I had stood at that exact same guard shack just a few weeks earlier. My wife and I had walked the area, observed the pedestrian traffic along 17th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, and noted the constant flow of people. There’s a McDonald’s just up the road, the kind of place where you see everyone from tourists fresh off White House tours to staffers grabbing quick meals. We sat in the little room in the back to the right, the same spot wherestaffers sometimes pick up orders for the president himself when he wants a hamburger. I know the layout intimately because we’ve been there many times.

The psychology of that moment stayed with me. Here was a young man, barely out of high school in the broader scheme of things, radicalized enough to test the perimeter with gunfire. I couldn’t help connecting it to what I had just been reading about the Second Temple era—the way righteousness becomes weaponized, how rebellion appeals to the disaffected by dressing itself in moral urgency. Those ancient scrolls capture a movement born from perceived corruption, a rebellious impulse that eventually helped birth Christianity. We still wrestle with that same tension today: the nature of righteousness, how it can be manipulated to serve political ends, and how it draws people into acts that feel righteous to them even as they unravel society.

I’ve thought a lot about the psychology of rebellion. It preys on the human desire for meaning, for standing against what feels unjust. Young minds, especially, are fertile ground. A kid like this attacker, just a few years removed from high school classrooms, likely absorbed years of signals framing certain figures as existential threats. The rhetoric from elements on the left—figures like Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi—has cultivated a youth movement that functions like modern Brownshirts, radicalized through education and media to view disruption as moral duty. They test fences, probe defenses, and build intelligence on how systems respond. This wasn’t random. It was part of a pattern: assassination tips against Trump, probes at events like the correspondents’ dinner, and now direct action at the White House itself.

I know the area well enough to picture it vividly. That guard shack sits where high security meets the everyday chaos of Washington streets. Pedestrians, cyclists, electric scooter riders, and homeless individuals move constantly along the sidewalks. From the North Lawn, you step through and suddenly you’re in a different world—McDonald’s just ahead, people coming and going. I’ve seen the Secret Service personnel there, talked with them briefly during our visit. They’re dedicated professionals doing a tough job, staying vigilant amid constant foot traffic. One of my former employees serves on a detail attached to the president; through his father, I hear updates about the realities of that life. It’s not glamorous superhuman work. These are normal people with families, video games with kids after shifts, the same human frailties we all carry. Complacency can creep in during quiet stretches. You walk among civilians, grab coffee, and suddenly shots ring out. The psychological shock of transitioning from routine to lethal force is immense. Drawing a weapon and firing at another human isn’t like the movies. The recoil, the impact, the irreversible weight of it—none of that comes naturally.

Yet they reacted quickly in this case, from what I could gather. That’s a credit to their training. But the incident reveals vulnerabilities. Radicalized individuals watch staffers exit the grounds in suits, heading to McDonald’s. They observe body language, note the relative youth and unassuming nature of many White House personnel. Fantasies build: “If I can get past that shack, I can reach the Oval Office.” It’s the psychology of terrorism in miniature—scouting, testing, learning. Each failed attempt feeds data back to the collective: reaction times, weapons used, weak points. Evil often works through people this way, through those most susceptible to manipulation. I wouldn’t call it mere terrestrial consciousness; there’s something deeper, almost extra-terrestrial in how it preys on the lost and angry, turning protesters into would-be assassins. John Wilkes Booth didn’t start as a killer; radicalization shaped him.

My mind kept drifting between the ancient world I was reading about and this modern one unfolding in real time. The Second Temple’s corruption and political intrigue gave rise to sectarian movements obsessed with righteousness. They saw themselves as the pure remnant against a compromised system. Today, similar impulses drive youth toward violence, convinced they’re striking against tyranny. Elements of the Republican Party have sometimes fallen for Democrat psychological operations too—supporting figures who serve as controlled opposition. Thomas Massie comes to mind in those dynamics. But the core issue remains: how righteousness is co-opted. My book The Politics of Heaven explores these themes across history, showing how heavenly ideals get dragged into earthly power struggles. I hope it encourages more funding for archaeology because these patterns repeat. Understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls community helps us see our own rebellions more clearly.

That Saturday, even with the news breaking, I finished the magazine cover to cover. I have a rule about it—I don’t let anything interrupt that ritual. The article on the sublime sanctuary and temple politics provided the perfect lens. Two thousand years from now, historians will study our Trump era the way we study the Second Temple fractures. They’ll examine assassination attempts, radical youth movements, and security responses as symptoms of deeper cultural decay. Trump’s enemies in Congress, like the Chicago politician Dick Durbin with his schemes involving corporate interests, credit cards, and data security, represent another layer. These political maneuvers benefit big retail and warehouses at the expense of everyday people. Liberal policies push them forward, paid for by electronic payment industries. It’s all connected: economic pressures, cultural radicalization, and direct threats to leadership.

I remember our visit clearly. We parked in the nearby garage, emerged near the guard shack, and chatted briefly with the officers. They seemed alert and professional. Then we crossed to McDonald’s. My wife loves their coffee—it has that familiar taste that feels like home when traveling. I grabbed a Big Mac meal. We had skipped breakfast and arrived just after 10:30, so it hit the spot. Sitting there, you can almost see the North Lawn. You observe the contrast: well-dressed staffers moving with purpose versus the ragtag figures on the sidewalks—youth on scooters, individuals who look perpetually one bad decision from catastrophe. Even with improvements under Trump, the area retains that edge. Those same characters watch who comes and goes. They measure people up. Some undoubtedly fantasize about breaching the perimeter.

Security is a negotiation. I don’t want to be stripped naked or endlessly harassed every time I visit as a guest with credentials. I expect the Secret Service to assess character quickly: this person has backing, a record, no threat indicators. Yet that same process leaves openings for those who study it from outside. The kid who attacked was likely one of those watchers, radicalized by teachers and media into believing throwing his life away tested the system. It’s heartbreaking and infuriating. These young people are being used as tools in a larger psychological operation.

Reflecting on it all, I feel a mix of concern and historical perspective. I’ve done enough in life to know many people in varied positions. I’ve visited significant places and heard behind-the-scenes stories. This incident wasn’t shocking in the grand view, but it was sobering. The ballroom construction Trump highlighted recently, the enhanced security measures—they’re necessary because disturbed individuals keep probing. Each test teaches the radicals something new. We must address the root: the radicalization pipeline targeting youth, the manipulation of righteousness into rebellion.

I remain optimistic about archaeology and deeper understanding. My magazine ritual that day reinforced it. Even amid chaos, we can choose to fund knowledge, preserve context, and learn from past civilizations. The Politics of Heaven aims to contribute to that narrative. If it opens doors for more digs and research, I’ll consider it a success. History shows us that righteousness, properly grounded, builds rather than destroys. Rebellion for its own sake, manipulated by political actors, leads to guard shacks under fire and wasted young lives.

The psychology here runs deep. People crave purpose. When society feels corrupt, the urge to rebel feels righteous. Ancient Qumran sectarians withdrew to preserve purity. Modern equivalents lash out violently. Leaders like Trump become focal points because they challenge the established order. The left’s youth vanguard, cultivated over years, sees him as the ultimate target. But this underestimates the resilience of institutions and the American people’s common sense.

I think about that guard shack often now. The humble officers doing their duty. The staffers grabbing McDonald’s runs. The watchers on scooters. It’s a microcosm of larger tensions. We need vigilance without paranoia, security that respects liberty. Most importantly, we must counter the radicalization that turns 21-year-olds into attackers. Education, culture, and honest historical perspective matter here. That’s why I value publications like Biblical Archaeology Review—they give us the long view.

In the end, that Saturday blended personal pleasure with national concern. I enjoyed the Big Mac with my wife weeks earlier in the same spot. I enjoyed the magazine despite the news. And I continue believing in deeper digging—literally and figuratively. More archaeology. More truth-seeking. Less manipulation of righteousness into rebellion. That’s the path forward, informed by the past and grounded in experience.

Footnotes

1.  On the Biblical Archaeology Review article and Qumran/Second Temple righteousness: See the feature on the Qumran sanctuary and sectarian debates in the relevant issue of Biblical Archaeology Review. The community’s obsession with purity and righteousness amid perceived temple corruption is well-documented in the sectarian scrolls. 

2.  Dead Sea Scrolls context and launch of broader movements: The scrolls illuminate late Second Temple fractures, including debates over righteousness that influenced later traditions, including early Christianity. 

3.  Psychology of rebellion and manipulation of righteousness: Radicalization often involves moral righteousness framed as resistance to perceived corruption. This aligns with studies on how ideology justifies extreme actions. 

4.  The White House incident details: Reports confirm the 21-year-old from Maryland (Nasire Best) approached the guard shack area near 17th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, with prior encounters involving the Secret Service. 

5.  Personal familiarity with the area and McDonald’s: This reflects direct observation of pedestrian/scooter traffic, staff movements, and the transition from secure to public spaces.

6.  Secret Service realities: Drawn from general knowledge of protective details and conversations with personnel in such roles.

7.  Political radicalization and youth movements: Elements echo broader patterns of psychological operations targeting disaffected youth, as discussed in terrorism psychology literature. 

8.  Reference to The Politics of Heaven: My book explores heavenly ideals intersecting with earthly power struggles, with a hope of inspiring archaeological support.

9.  Dick Durbin and related policy critiques: Contextual references to congressional actions on data security, retail, and electronic payments.

10.  Historical parallels and future historiography: Two millennia from now, this era may parallel Second Temple studies, with archaeology providing context.

Additional footnotes can cover:

•  Complacency in security routines.

•  Moral disengagement in radicalization. 

•  Trump’s ballroom/security enhancements as responses to probing attacks.

Bibliography

Primary/Periodical Sources

•  Biblical Archaeology Review (relevant issue featuring “Sublime Sanctuary” or Second Temple/Qumran articles). Biblical Archaeology Society. (The magazine that arrived that Saturday, providing the reflective lens during the news of the incident.)

Scholarly and Historical Works

•  VanderKam, James, and Peter Flint. The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Significance for Understanding the Bible, Judaism, Jesus, and Christianity. HarperCollins, 2002. (Covers Qumran community, righteousness, and sectarian rebellion.) 

•  Perrin, Andrew. Various contributions on Qumran archaeology and Essene-like movements in Biblical Archaeology Review. (Discusses site debates and righteous living.) 

•  Hoffman, Rich. The Politics of Heaven. (My own work linking ancient political-theological struggles to modern ones, with calls for increased archaeological funding.)

Psychology and Radicalization

•  Borum, Randy. “Psychology of Terrorism.” National Institute of Justice, 2004. (On pathways to violence, ideology, and moral justification.) 

•  Trip, Simona, et al. “Psychological Mechanisms Involved in Radicalization and Extremism.” Frontiers in Psychology, 2019. (Explores righteousness, rebellion appeal, and manipulation.) 

•  Van den Bos, Kees. “Unfairness and Radicalization.” Annual Review of Psychology, 2020. (Moral righteousness and delegitimization processes.) 

News and Contemporary Reporting

•  CBS News and Associated Press reports on the White House guard shack incident involving 21-year-old Nasire Best of Maryland (May 2026 coverage). Details on prior encounters, mental health factors, and Secret Service response. 

•  FOX 10 Phoenix and other outlets on the timeline, shooter background, and context of recent probes (e.g., correspondents’ dinner). 

Additional Contextual Reading

•  Schall, James V. The Politics of Heaven and Hell (various editions). (Broader philosophical parallels on heavenly vs. earthly politics, though distinct from my book.)

•  Works on Second Temple Judaism and Essene/Qumran sectarianism for deeper righteousness debates. 

This setup turns your reflective essay into something closer to a thoughtful op-ed or chapter with academic grounding. It supports claims about ancient history, psychology, and current events without overwhelming the personal “I” narrative you prefer. The footnotes are selective—focused on verifiable anchors—while the bibliography mixes your sources with supporting scholarship.

If you want the full essay text with footnotes embedded (or adjusted for length/style), a longer bibliography, or expansions on specific sections (e.g., more on archaeology funding or Trump-era security), just let me know the details. This matches your typical 4,000-word approach while adding the requested scholarly apparatus.

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.

I’m Thinking of Getting a PhD: The mysterious Qesem Cave

I have been thinking a great deal about pursuing a PhD.  For me, it’s a debate of time; it’s hard for me to dedicate too much time to any one thing, and pursuing a PhD requires a significant amount of time in a specific field of study.  However, my reason for wanting to do it, and I think I will at some point regardless, is that I want to prove it can be done without losing your mind in the process.  I want to prove that if you look at the world with your face up against the glass, you can still see.  And I could do just that, and in the aftermath, I could be very dangerous.  However, typically, it costs around half a million dollars to pursue a PhD, and the time commitment is mind-numbing.  However, it could be fun if it were in a field that you enjoy. I want to pursue one in Bible Studies, Philosophy, or Archaeology because I am passionate about these topics and have many ideas on how to improve them for the betterment of human civilization.  But unfortunately, and this is just how things are in the living world, what you want to do and what you should, or could do, is not always the same.  And the skill that I am best at, which is specifically me, is consuming vast amounts of random information and solving problems outside the box.  And that is something I wouldn’t be able to do if I had my face too close to the glass for an extended period.  My reasons for pursuing a PhD are not the traditional ones, but rather to demonstrate that one can be obtained despite the institutional problems in the process.

The best example of this is in Qesem Cave, a topic I first learned about while reading my favorite magazine in the world, the November/December 2007 edition of Biblical Archaeology Review, which was available in print at the time.  Later, in December, I noticed a brief online article about Qesem Cave that had not been included in the print edition, and I thought it was astonishing.  Here, a cave was discovered just outside Tel Aviv, Israel, and about an hour’s drive to the west of Jerusalem, that had human habitation 420,000 years ago.  The cave was discovered while building a highway connecting the Mediterranean Sea to the interior, and its existence was entirely a matter of happenstance, which I found alarming.  How many Qesem Caves were there in the world just waiting to be discovered, just short of the surface of the earth?  And the answer is an astonishing amount that we are just starting to wrap our heads around, especially in hostile zones like China, Russia, and all over the Middle East.  However, this discovery was so unusual and difficult to categorize that even in an archaeology magazine that typically reports on such issues, they weren’t quite sure what to say about it.  Because it didn’t fit any previous assumptions about the region.  And even then, it took seven years from its discovery for the world to learn about it.  And since then, it has been researched a bit here and there up to 2016.  However, much of the work has been relatively small in scope because the discovery process is overly bureaucratic and detrimentally procedural.  The most intelligent people on the planet who could study these kinds of things were too tied up in peer review commentary to even begin to think of something that was not within the box of their specialized fields of study. 

But Qesem Cave proves something I had long been thinking about in the specific region of the Bible lands.  I believe there was a very good reason why Abraham was instructed to sacrifice Isaac at the location he did, and that the Holy of Holies was situated where it was.  And that the skull of the first human ever, Adam, was buried in a cave under the site where Jesus was crucified.  Academics with their face up against the glass write off such stories as fictional apocrypha, but I think the desire to write such stories such as in The Book of the Cave of Treasures is because under modern Jerusalem is an ancient system of caves that were always there, and that Yahweh was very angry at the Canaanite culture which resided there for many hundreds of thousands of years, well outside our accepted timeline for the flood stories and evolution of the Biblical characters.  I tend to think that the story of Genesis compresses millions of years into the arrival of Abraham, allowing the plot of the Bible to begin.  And that its reference points reach too deep in the past to connect to historical anchors.  And Qesem Cave proves this to be true, not just because humans were using it as shelter from the outside world and the elements, but also because they were practicing shamanic practices there, which would be the oldest spot in the world where such activity was observed.  I think it’s just the tip of the iceberg.  And that the world is filled with such places.  However, the Holy Land is so well-documented that a discovery like this can’t be ignored in any historical discussion. 

Inside the cave were elements of apparent ritual activity using swan wings to mimic shamanic spirit flight while under the influence of hallucinogens, which the current argument is the foundation of all religious belief, the deliberate attempt for people to reach across known perception and talk to spiritual entities to assist with daily life.  And biblically, we have people talking to what they think is God a lot.  Qesem Cave reveals that this kind of practice has been ongoing for a much more extended period than previously understood.  And for me, that’s a big deal, which is why I’m considering getting a PhD.  I want to prove that you can achieve this without compromising your ability to think critically when new information is introduced.  As I am, I excel at solving complex problems because my knowledge base is extensive.  However, academia is designed against the broad acquisition of knowledge and is structured to be too specific, making it difficult to incorporate new information and advance understanding.  And that’s why Qesem Cave has been so little explored, and why the Indian mounds of North America, and the world, get so little attention, because they don’t fit a narrative that academics have staked a stake in, and many PhD papers were written.  I think the best and only way to shatter that assumption is to undertake one myself, so that I can conduct my thesis on the shortcomings of the current PhD process.  We should encourage people to think primarily about multiple matters, rather than focusing on a limited vantage point, and then make the process so complicated that, once you survive it, you are changed forever by the experience.  I interact with many people who hold advanced degrees every day, and I would say I know more of them than most people do.  And I like them, but they all share the same problem: they think too specifically and do not think large enough to deal with the vast world of knowledge that we have yet to unlock.  And in the process, they are often paralyzed by the procedure and cannot see the obvious.  And that is precisely what Qesem Cave, which I think is one of the most incredible discoveries in the world, proves beyond a shadow of a doubt.  And what is both scary and delightful is that it’s just the beginning.  As far as me getting a PhD, I would like to get to a point in my life where I could take a few years and just think about the things I enjoy thinking about.  It would be fun, and I could do a lot of good things with it.  I may not be at that stage in my life now, but if and when I could, I think I would.

Rich Hoffman

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

When Jerusalem Was a Space Command Center: Why there are wars, to keep power in the hands who have seized it and use ignorance to suppress rivals

Examining the mysterious site of Ishi-no-Hoden in Japan

I find that science fiction and fantasy often contain more truths than what mainstream sources would ever admit to, such as television shows like Battlestar Galactica, where the concept of human seeding on earth was explored, or Lord of the Rings, where the nature of evil in some far ancient past, or future, is the dominating topic, or the Robert Jordan series, The Wheel of Time that was a very good book series that dealt with essentially the Vico Cycle that I talk about so much. And, of course, Star Wars has been a favorite of mine that was set a long time ago in a far-distant galaxy. Not even our own. Examining abstract concepts in science fiction certainly does help us deal with reality much more effectively and provokes the questions we should be asking. And when you start to do that, you can see truths lost to others, such as why there are so many global wars. Well, especially in the hot zone of the Old Silk Road, many of the conflicts we have these days, such as the war in Israel, and then of Ukraine and the whole Russian puzzle with China and other places that don’t have massive economies, but are perpetually in conflict for some mysterious reason. And I would offer that the best evidence indicates that these regions have very ancient pasts, far extending into what we today consider old. We think of a few thousand years as a lot, but the evidence from many sources, not the same idiots who tried to tell us not to take Ivermectin to deal with the lab-created virus, COVID-19, and that there was no election fraud in 2020, have tried to tell us about true history. But the result of decentralized media that is finally talking about real, substantive issues indicates that the wars of our modern times are purely created to conceal a deep and ancient past, allowing a corrupt global network to remain in power over the human race through sheer deceit.

The Millennium Falcon at the Black Spire Outpost

And that’s what I was thinking about when my family recently visited a very favorite place I have, the Star Wars land at Disney World, Galaxy’s Edge. I’ve always loved that particular science fiction story, and specifically the spaceship, the Millennium Falcon so to see a land where all these things were built and you can walk around and interact with them, was magnificent. So, I found that I was able to get my family to Disney World and to that specific place and we had one of the most marvelous days of our lives, together. But there had been something bothering me over these last few years since I had last visited what they call The Black Spire Outpost that I resolved while there with my family. I had a lot of time to think about it, and it all came together for me during this recent visit. The place reminds me of what Ancient Jerusalem would have looked like in a period of largely unrecorded history, around 8,000 BC, when that region of the world was said to have been a space command center for a landing corridor that was very important in the near east area, where many of our most significant religions were born, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hindu, Buddhism, and Zoroastrianism. And the haunting passage from the Bible that I couldn’t get out of my head was that from Genesis 22:2, “and he said, take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.” This action was in around the 2070s BC, long after any settlement of a spaceport in Jerusalem would have been located there. All Abraham would have seen of Mt. Moriah, where King Solomon, over a thousand years later, would build the great temple and place the Ark of the Covenant, the Ten Commandments, upon that exact spot where Isaac was to be sacrificed, in that precise spot. In 3000 to 5000 years, most stone structures erode away into nothing, so anything that would have been in that region at that time would have long eroded from 8000 BC.

My kids

I’m a fan of Zecharia Sitchin’s books. Many people, especially mainstream scientists, have said that his books are purely science fiction and not based on accurate science. Even Graham Hancock has said such things. But I think those are not fair assessments, and I think time has proven that Zecharia Sitchin was very authentic. He has since died, but his work lives on in his students, who have done some exciting work on the activity on earth that may have occurred based on stories passed down through various cultures that are just as scientific as anything else over a roughly 450,000 year period, which paves the way not only for our current world religions but also the notion we have of kingships and even burial practices. After all the lies that the world’s governments have told us, more people are looking at things that used to be considered wild conspiracy theories and reexamining them with fresh eyes. When looked at with this updated perspective, it becomes evident that the power structures on Earth who desperately want to hold on to what they consider royal bloodlines given to them through heredity wish to maintain their right to rule Earth by controlling what we know of the past, so that is the real cause of all these ridiculous wars. If there are wars, actual science can’t do any research because those regions are too dangerous for that kind of activity. I’m also a fan and dedicated member of the Biblical Archaeology Review Society, and I understand and sympathize with their task of digging and gathering evidence in such a hostile part of the world, politically.

How things likely looked, a long time ago. But not so far away.

For me, uniquely, I had just stepped off a plane from Japan while I was with my family at the Black Spire Outpost and had visited the very ancient site of Ishi-no-Hoden and studied how the modern city of Osaka was built around the Kufan tombs that were built in the shape of keyholes, very mysterious.  Going to the Black Spire Outpost reminded me of what an ancient Jerusalem would have looked like well before there was Abraham, Isaac, or the Jewish people.  A mixture of high technology that could navigate the known galaxy, perhaps even the universe that has long since come and gone interlaced with primitive structures and building methods erected quickly to facilitate the need from a growing economy not rooted to travel on earth.  But what was left behind was some remote memory of these actions lost only to telling stories and an understanding of that truth within our subconscious brains, which most of us share.   And those memories are most effectively communicated through science fiction.  Yet, at the Black Spire Outpost, you can walk around and touch something that may well have been part of our far ancient past only manifested through storytelling.  But it is as accurate as anything else—perhaps more.  The wars in the world that dominate much of our political discussion these days are meant to hide the truth from us, which is why I am talking about them more than ever.  Because we have been lied to, we must have a culture that deals with the past to have an honest future.  The reason that Jerusalem is such a hot zone even to this day is that power is sought in concealing the truth and giving people controlled narratives through religion that keeps them in power and prevents people from learning their true history, which is buried under the streets of Jerusalem well past the typical periods that we have always thought of as ancient, but in reality, are just scratching the surface.

Rich Hoffman