Michael Ryan’s decisive victory in the 2026 Butler County Republican primary for commissioner marks a significant shift in local politics, reflecting voter demand for genuine conservatism, accountability, and fresh leadership. I have followed these races closely for years, and this outcome stands out as a clear repudiation of entitlement politics and a triumph for the kind of candidate who earns support through hard work and integrity. With final unofficial results showing Ryan capturing approximately 72% of the vote to Cindy Carpenter’s 28%, the primary essentially decides the seat in this heavily Republican county.
Butler County, Ohio, is in the southwestern part of the state, encompassing communities such as Hamilton, Middletown, Fairfield, and Oxford (home to Miami University), as well as numerous townships. Its population exceeds 390,000, with a strong manufacturing and agricultural base alongside growing suburban development. The Board of Commissioners oversees a substantial budget, infrastructure projects, economic development, public safety, and human services. For decades, the board has operated under Republican dominance, making the GOP primary the real contest. Winning it virtually guarantees victory in November against the unopposed Democrat Mike Miller.
Cindy Carpenter had served as commissioner since 2011 and was seeking a fifth term. Her tenure focused on human services, public health, and fiscal matters, but it was marred by controversies that alienated many in the party base. Incidents included a heated confrontation at a Miami University-area apartment complex involving her granddaughter, where she was accused of leveraging her position, using inappropriate language, and displaying aggressive behavior captured on video. Investigations cleared her of criminal wrongdoing but highlighted conduct deemed “distasteful” and “beneath her elected position.” Additional complaints arose, including allegations of aggressive conduct at a housing coalition meeting. Even the county sheriff publicly expressed concerns about her behavior.
A particularly damaging episode involved Carpenter campaigning for a Democrat in the Middletown mayoral race, crossing party lines in ways that many viewed as disloyal. This move, combined with her decision not to seek the Butler County Republican Party endorsement, signaled a disconnect. She appeared to operate with an entitled mindset, assuming incumbency alone would carry her through. Her campaign signs, some in blue tones reminiscent of Democratic aesthetics, and limited fundraising—only about $7,700 compared to Ryan’s over $46,000—underscored a lack of broad support.
In contrast, Michael Ryan entered the race as a former Hamilton City Council member with a background in business and community service. He positioned himself as a true conservative caretaker focused on fiscal responsibility, job creation, lower taxes, and practical governance. Ryan methodically built support: he secured the Republican Party endorsement with a striking 71% in the first round of voting, an early and historic show of strength. Major figures lined up behind him, including Auditor Nancy Nix, who endorsed him at a fundraiser when it still carried risk; Congressman Warren Davidson; State Representative Thomas Hall; and others, such as George Lang. These endorsements validated his approach and reassured voters that change could be safe and effective.
I endorsed Ryan early, well before the primary heated up. Having known him for years, I saw in him the sincerity and dedication often missing in politics. He raised money effectively, attended events tirelessly, engaged voters across the county, and maintained a positive, bridge-building demeanor even amid challenges like sign theft. His campaign emphasized family values, economic growth, and responsiveness—qualities that resonated deeply in a county frustrated with the status quo. The watch party on primary night, held at the Premier Shooting facility with a speakeasy-style back area, overflowed with supporters. The room was packed; people had to turn sideways to navigate. Energy filled the space as results rolled in.
Congressman Warren Davidson attended and shared insights from his experience in large districts. We discussed the political savvy required at every level and how Ryan had grown into a polished figure capable of uniting people. Davidson’s presence underscored the race’s importance, and his admiration for Ryan’s development over the couple of years spoke volumes. Other supporters like Darbi Boddy added to the festive, optimistic atmosphere. It felt like a genuine celebration of earned success rather than entitlement.
The results confirmed what grassroots momentum had suggested. With 100% of precincts reporting in unofficial tallies, Ryan’s 72%-28% margin was overwhelming and, for some, embarrassing to the incumbent. Early voting and election-day observations showed Carpenter’s team attempting a last-minute sign blitz, but it failed against organized, enthusiastic Ryan volunteers who kept their ground game strong. The Republican slate card proved crucial, as it often does; voters seeking vetted candidates found Ryan prominently featured through party processes and independent media coverage.
This victory carries broader lessons for politics, especially local races. Party systems matter because they help aggregate preferences in a diverse society. People differ on countless details—concrete versus asphalt, tax priorities, development approaches—but effective governance requires building majorities. Dismissing the party as irrelevant or operating as a “RINO” critic while undermining it rarely succeeds. Ryan demonstrated the opposite: he worked within the system, earned endorsements through respect and effort, and presented a positive vision.
Background on Butler County’s political landscape adds context. The county has long leaned conservative, supporting Republican candidates at high levels, including strong support for Trump in recent cycles. Yet local frustrations with taxes, growth management, infrastructure, and perceived insider politics have grown. Projects involving economic development, public safety, and services will benefit from new energy. Ryan has signaled readiness to hit the ground running, with ideas on efficiency, accountability, and forward-thinking initiatives already in motion during the campaign. His experience on Hamilton council involved practical decision-making on budgets and community issues, preparing him well for county-level responsibilities.
Roger Reynolds, former county auditor, briefly entered the race but withdrew after the party endorsement went decisively to Ryan. His last-minute alignment with Carpenter, including sign placement, highlighted lingering personal grievances but ultimately underscored the party’s unified shift. Voters rejected that approach. In an era where authenticity matters more than ever, Ryan’s consistent message and character won out.
I am proud to have supported him from the beginning. When Nancy Nix announced her endorsement at a fundraiser, it took courage because challengers to incumbents often face skepticism. Yet as momentum built—through articles, videos, conversations, and events—support snowballed. Thousands accessed information in the final days, researching Ryan’s record and deciding he represented the change they sought without chaos.
Looking ahead to the general election in November 2026, the focus shifts to implementation. Ryan will face minimal opposition, allowing emphasis on transition planning. Priorities likely include continuing fiscal stewardship amid state and federal shifts, addressing housing and development thoughtfully, enhancing public safety, and promoting economic opportunities in a region balancing rural roots with suburban expansion. His fresh perspective promises to inject optimism and results-oriented governance.
Politics at the county level profoundly affects daily life: road maintenance, emergency services, property taxes, zoning, and more. When voters sense entitlement or disconnection, they respond, as seen here. Carpenter’s campaign assumed voter inertia; Ryan proved engagement and sincerity prevail. This race reminds us that traditional political games—relying on name recognition, minimal effort, or media insiders—have diminished effectiveness in an era of an informed electorate.
The night of the primary embodied hope. A full room of dedicated Republicans, conversations with leaders like Davidson, and the visible relief and excitement on supporters’ faces painted a picture of renewal. Ryan’s wife and family shared in the moment, grounding the victory in personal commitment. For those involved in politics, the takeaway is clear: do the work, be genuine, build coalitions, and respect the process. Ryan exemplified this, turning potential obstacles into advantages.
As someone who values conservative principles of limited government, individual responsibility, and community strength, I see Ryan’s win as validation. Butler County deserves leadership that listens, acts prudently, and prioritizes residents. With the primary behind us, anticipation builds for his term starting in 2027. Many good projects and ideas wait in the wings, ready for execution. And because of this election, a lot of good things will happen.
Footnotes
1. Journal-News reporting on final unofficial results showing Ryan at 72%.
2. Cincinnati Enquirer coverage of fundraising disparity and endorsements.
3. Ballotpedia profiles on candidates and race background.
4. Accounts of Carpenter controversies from multiple local news outlets.
5. Party endorsement details and 71% vote.
6. Observations from the watch party and interactions with Davidson.
Bibliography / Further Reading
• Journal-News (Hamilton, Ohio): Multiple articles on the primary, results, and candidate profiles (2026).
• Cincinnati Enquirer: Coverage of the commissioner race, fundraising, and controversies.
• Ballotpedia: Entries for Michael V. Ryan, Cindy Carpenter, and Butler County elections 2026.
• Ryan for Butler official campaign site: Policy positions and updates.
• Butler County Board of Elections: Official results and candidate filings.
• articles on local politics and endorsements.
• Additional context from county commissioner office descriptions and historical election data.
This primary will be remembered as a turning point in which voters chose character, preparation, and vision over incumbency. Michael Ryan earned this victory, and Butler County stands to benefit. The hard work of the campaign now transitions to governance, with high expectations and strong support. It is a positive development for the future.
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 have been saying for years that the vertical air taxi market—powered by electric vertical takeoff and landing (eVTOL) aircraft—would quite literally take off, and that by the end of 2026 it would become commonplace in major cities and airports across the country. Leading up to 2025 and into 2026, I told everyone who would listen that Joby Aviation was positioned to lead this transformation, turning what many dismissed as science fiction into everyday reality. And right on cue, at the end of April 2026—specifically during demonstrations from April 25 through April 27 and extending into the following days—Joby completed New York City’s first-ever point-to-point eVTOL air taxi flights, soaring from John F. Kennedy International Airport (JFK) to Manhattan heliports in under 10 minutes (some reports clocked segments at just seven minutes). This wasn’t just a flashy stunt; it was a critical FAA milestone under the eVTOL Integration Pilot Program (eIPP), showcasing seamless integration into one of the world’s busiest and most tightly regulated airspaces. The flights validated everything I had predicted: quiet, emissions-free, stable vertical flight that outperforms noisy traditional helicopters, all while promising to slash travel times and transform how we move in and out of urban centers.
To understand why this moment feels so validating, it helps to step back and consider the substantial background of the eVTOL industry and Joby Aviation specifically. eVTOL technology represents the convergence of electric propulsion, advanced batteries, distributed electric propulsion (multiple rotors for redundancy and safety), and fly-by-wire controls—essentially combining the vertical agility of a helicopter with the efficiency and quiet operation of a fixed-wing aircraft. Unlike traditional helicopters, which rely on loud combustion engines and single rotors, Joby’s S4 aircraft uses 12 electric propellers (six tilting for forward flight, six dedicated for lift) powered by high-energy-density batteries. This design delivers near-silent operation—reportedly 100 times quieter than helicopters during takeoff and landing in some metrics —with cruise noise levels around 45 dB at altitude, quieter than normal conversation. It uses no jet fuel, produces zero tailpipe emissions, and offers far greater stability in flight. The aircraft carries a pilot and up to four passengers, making it ideal for premium, on-demand service akin to Uber Black but in the sky.
Joby Aviation, founded in 2009 and headquartered in Santa Cruz, California, has spent more than a decade refining this vision. Backed by heavyweights like Toyota (a manufacturing partner providing automotive-grade expertise and capital), Delta Air Lines, and Uber, the company has methodically progressed through FAA certification stages. By early 2026, Joby had flown its first FAA-conforming aircraft (March 11), entered the final Type Inspection Authorization phase, and cleared Stage 4 of the five-stage certification process. The April 2026 Manhattan demonstrations—part of a week-long campaign using existing heliports such as Downtown Skyport, West 30th Street, and East 34th Street—were not passenger-carrying commercial flights but rather critical proof-of-concept operations. They demonstrated point-to-point integration with FAA-controlled airspace at one of America’s busiest airports, building on New York’s selection as part of the White House-backed eIPP announced in March 2026. Joby was named a partner on five projects spanning 12 states, accelerating the path to commercial rollout. These flights weren’t isolated; Joby has conducted similar demos globally, but Manhattan’s dense urban environment was the ultimate credibility check.
The numbers tell a compelling story of momentum. Joby aims to launch a paying passenger service in late 2026, starting potentially in Dubai (where regulatory support is strong) before scaling in the U.S. Production is ramping aggressively: the company acquired a second major facility in Dayton, Ohio—a 700,000-square-foot site now operational and poised to help double output to four aircraft per month by 2027. Combined with its California operations, this positions Joby for rapid scaling. Analysts project that the global eVTOL market could reach tens of billions of dollars annually within a decade, driven by urban congestion relief, airport access, and tourism applications. Joby has already acquired Blade Air Mobility’s passenger business, integrating into Uber’s app for seamless booking. Early economics suggest fares comparable to premium ground services or helicopters today, but with far greater speed and comfort. I have watched this trajectory closely, and the April 2026 events align perfectly with the economic development path I outlined a year ago: infrastructure, certification, and political vision converging to make air taxis as routine as ride-sharing.
Here in southern Ohio, this revolution hits close to home. Butler County—home to Hamilton, Middletown, Fairfield, and Oxford—sits just north of Cincinnati and is ideally positioned for an air taxi hub. I have long advocated for this alongside Michael Ryan, the Republican nominee for Butler County Commissioner and a forward-thinking leader who gets it. Ryan, a former Hamilton City Councilman and Vice Mayor, has been pushing for advanced manufacturing and aviation infrastructure since his early days in local government. He has toured facilities such as the National Advanced Air Mobility Center of Excellence and met with Joby representatives multiple times in late 2025 to lay the groundwork for a vertiport (vertical takeoff/landing pad) in Hamilton or across broader Butler County. While others dismissed it as futuristic fantasy, Ryan saw the opportunity to position our community as a leader rather than a late adopter. With Joby’s Dayton facility just up the road—already gearing up for mass production—Butler County could become a regional nexus for eVTOL operations, serving Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport, Dayton International, and local business travelers. Imagine skipping hour-long traffic snarls on I-75: a quick app hail from a city-center pad or Westchester area, a 10-15 minute flight, and you’re at the terminal. No more rental cars, buses, or tolls for trips to Orlando’s cruise ports or Disney parks—direct sky taxi from hotel to ship in under 15 minutes.
This brings us squarely into the political arena and the critical May 2026 primary election. As primaries loom in early May—specifically May 5 for Butler County—the choice for commissioner couldn’t be clearer. Michael Ryan is the endorsed Republican candidate, backed overwhelmingly by the Butler County Republican Party (71% of the central committee vote in January 2026). He faces incumbent Cindy Carpenter, who chose not to seek the party’s endorsement and has a track record that many in the community find troubling. Roger Reynolds, the former county auditor whose past legal issues lingered in the background, briefly entered the race but dropped out after the GOP’s decisive support for Ryan. I have driven around Butler County and seen the contrast in campaign signs firsthand. Ryan’s signs look sharp, crisp, and well-maintained—fresh volunteers keeping them upright across Hamilton, Middletown, and beyond. Carpenter’s signs, plastered aggressively in early April (or late March), now appear tattered, faded, and weather-beaten just weeks before the vote. They flap like old, neglected flags, a visual metaphor for a campaign lacking the grassroots energy to sustain momentum. Signs can deceive at first glance, projecting illusory support, but maintenance reveals the truth: real backing requires ongoing work, not just a burst of spending at the outset.
I have followed local politics closely, and the differences between the candidates stand out vividly. Michael Ryan is a conservative with proven results in job creation, tax relief, and economic development during his time on Hamilton City Council. As vice mayor, he championed initiatives like the Advanced Manufacturing Hub and aviation-related projects that align directly with the eVTOL future. His energy, fresh ideas, and willingness to engage visionaries like Joby early—when they were still navigating hurdles—set him apart. Ryan understands that politicians with foresight bring communities into leadership roles on emerging technologies. Butler County doesn’t need to play catch-up a decade from now; it can lead now, while the market is at its hottest. The vertical airspace sector is arguably the most dynamic in the U.S. economy right now, with Dubai, China, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Orlando all moving fast. A Joby hub here would mean jobs, tourism boosts, and infrastructure that attracts businesses—opportunities that would be impossible without proactive leadership.
In contrast, Cindy Carpenter’s tenure has been marked by controversies that have alienated even fellow Republicans. She has faced scrutiny for public behavior unbecoming of high office—including documented incidents of intimidation and foul language—and was caught campaigning for Democrats in races like Middletown’s mayoral contest, a move that cost her the GOP endorsement. Everyone I speak with wants to move on from that style of politics. Her campaign’s reliance on outdated signs and legacy networks feels like an attempt to manufacture the illusion of broad support from “Rhino” elements resistant to change. But voters see through it. The Republican Party has adjusted, listening to the grassroots and aligning with leaders who embrace the future rather than clinging to the past. Ryan’s team has volunteers out maintaining visibility because the support is real—not propped up by a handful of upset insiders.
As someone who has collaborated with Ryan on these forward-looking ideas, I can attest to his genuine commitment. He has been trying to schedule deeper engagements with Joby, but their schedule is now packed, as Joby is the hottest ticket in aviation. That alone shows how prescient his initial outreach in 2025 was. Once through the primary—widely seen as the real contest in this heavily Republican county—Ryan will be well-positioned for the general election. Over the summer and fall of 2026, I expect him to facilitate demonstration events showcasing Joby aircraft right here in Butler County. Imagine community fly-ins or vertiport planning sessions that highlight the vision: quick hops to Dayton or Cincinnati airports, avoiding traffic, and positioning us as an eVTOL leader alongside Manhattan, Dubai, and Orlando. This is the kind of bold, conservative leadership that drives sustainable growth without raising taxes or burdening residents.
The broader implications extend far beyond one county. Globally, places like Orlando are eyeing eVTOLs to ferry tourists from Disney hotels directly to cruise terminals on the Space Coast—no more buses, rental cars, or toll roads. China and the Middle East are investing heavily. Here at home, airports like Dayton International and regional pads in Westchester or Hamilton could become hubs. Joby and competitors like Archer Aviation (with its focus on Georgia) are racing, but Joby’s Dayton presence and certification lead give it the edge, in my view. Archer has strong backing and production ambitions, yet Joby’s momentum—Toyota manufacturing expertise, Uber integration, and real-world demos—makes it the frontrunner for near-term scale. The industry isn’t zero-sum; both will grow, but early adopters like Butler County win by partnering with the most advanced player now.
I do not doubt that if elections were held today under these dynamics, Michael Ryan would prevail because voters crave representatives who deliver results and vision. Primaries often see lower turnout, but that makes every vote crucial. Do not take it for granted—get out and vote for Michael Ryan on May 5, 2026. This primary is the gateway to a stronger general election campaign and, ultimately, to realizing these opportunities. With Ryan in the commissioner’s seat, Butler County secures its place in the new transportation economy. Cindy Carpenter’s approach—reactive, divisive, and disconnected from innovation—offers no such path. Her signs may have looked imposing at the campaign’s start, but their current state tells the real story: neglected support from a candidate whose time has passed.
Looking ahead, the future of air taxis is bright and efficient. Start with pilots, transition to autonomous operations as regulations evolve, and watch as it becomes as simple as ordering an Uber. For working professionals, families heading to cruises, or business travelers dodging gridlock, this changes everything. Joby’s Manhattan milestone isn’t the end—it’s the beginning of nationwide rollout. And thanks to leaders like Michael Ryan, who embraced it early, southern Ohio won’t be left behind. I have been consistent on this for years because the technology, economics, and political will are aligning exactly as forecasted. Those who invested early—financially or politically—stand to benefit enormously. The hottest market sector in the economy is vertical airspace, and Butler County is poised to claim its share.
This episode also underscores a deeper truth about politics and progress: true leadership adapts to people’s needs and future realities, much like the representative government I have discussed in other contexts. Trump voters and everyday Americans choose leaders who listen and deliver—not those trapped in past grievances. Ryan embodies that forward momentum. Carpenter’s record of supporting Democrats in key races and public missteps has left her isolated. The party’s decision to back fresh ideas over incumbency was wise and reflects a broader adjustment toward innovation.
The rubber is hitting the road—or rather, the aircraft are taking off. Joby Aviation’s April 2026 demonstrations in Manhattan confirm what I have been saying all along. With Michael Ryan leading Butler County into this new era, our communities stand to gain jobs, infrastructure, and a competitive edge that legacy thinking could never provide. Vote early, vote often in spirit, and make your voice heard in the primary. The future is electric, vertical, and fast—and it’s arriving right on schedule.
Footnotes
¹ Joby Aviation press release detailing April 2026 NYC demonstrations and eIPP participation.
² FAA certification progress and conforming aircraft timeline from industry reports.
³ Noise and stability comparisons between eVTOLs and helicopters.
⁴ Butler County Republican Party endorsement and primary candidate details.
⁵ Michael Ryan’s economic development record and aviation advocacy.
⁶ Joby manufacturing expansion in Dayton, Ohio.
⁷ Market projections and global adoption outlook for the eVTOL sector.
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.
James Comey has justifiably found himself in the crosshairs of another indictment. This time, it is not just some rehash of old Russia-hoax issue, which is very serious in its own way, or his handling of the Clinton emails; this time, it is for something far more sinister and far more revealing about the way power really works in this country. He posted a picture on Instagram last year of seashells arranged on a beach spelling out “8647.” To the untrained eye, it might look like a harmless beach walk memento, captioned innocently enough as “Cool shell formation on my beach walk.” But those of us who have lived a little, who have brushed up against the real underbelly of society, know exactly what that means. “86” has long been mob slang for “get rid of,” “cancel,” or, more directly in the circles I have known, “kill him.” And 47? That is the 47th president of the United States, Donald Trump. Comey knew what he was doing. He was sending out a signal, the kind of coded message that people in the shadows understand perfectly, while the rest of us are left scratching our heads, wondering why the former director of the FBI would suddenly become an amateur seashell artist.
I said the last time he wiggled out of an indictment that he would keep pushing. And here we are. The indictment dropped just days after another attempted assassination plot against President Trump and members of his administration at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner held at the Hilton in Washington, D.C. The timing is no coincidence. The preparation for these legal moves had been underway in the background, but the justification—the public outrage, the manifestos left by disturbed individuals—gave them the cover they needed. The guy who tried to breach security at that dinner left a manifesto that screamed the kind of radical, unhinged hatred that has been stoked for years by people in high places. These are exactly the sort of fringe lunatics Comey and others like him have been winking at for a long time. I have said it before, and I will say it again: there is always a tiny percentage of the population—maybe half a percent—who are so unhinged that they will act on the signals sent by powerful figures. They do not need direct orders. A seashell formation, a casual remark about “hitting hard,” a call to “fight” in the streets—that is enough for the right kind of crazy to interpret it as permission. And when that happens, the people who sent the signal keep their hands clean while the blood flows elsewhere. I actually provide several chapters of detail on this kind of activity in my upcoming book, The Politics of Heaven, and yes, God has assassins always trying to plot his downfall, in much the same way. And we see that battle playing out in many levels of spiritual warfare.
This is not speculation on my part. I have seen how this world operates up close, and that experience is exactly why I can look at Comey’s little seashell stunt and know, without a shadow of doubt, what he intended. I have never hidden the fact that I spent time around some rough characters in my younger days, particularly in the Cincinnati and northern Kentucky area. Newport, Kentucky, just across the river, was once known as “Sin City,” a place where organized crime ran wide open with gambling joints, brothels, bootlegging operations, and every vice you could imagine. It was the prototype for what Las Vegas would later become, funded by the same networks that stretched from Chicago to Cleveland to New York. The mob had its tentacles deep into southern Ohio, too—along Chester Road in Sharonville, in the shadows of City Hall in Cincinnati, places where legitimate business mixed with the illegitimate in ways that most people shopping for milk and cookies at the grocery store never wanted to know about. Judges knew what was going on and looked the other way. Prosecutors were afraid for their families. Cops took envelopes or pretended not to see. It was the way business was done, and I had a front-row seat because I could absorb risk without cracking under pressure. I did not drink, I did not do drugs, and people trusted me with large sums of money because they knew I would do the right thing.
Let me tell you a couple of stories that illustrate exactly the kind of signaling I am talking about. Back when I was working for a company that dealt with a lot of cash flow, one of these characters—a guy connected in ways I did not fully understand at the time but later pieced together—asked me to drive him down to a townhouse in Cincinnati, not far from City Hall. I was doing legitimate business with City Hall in those days, so it did not seem out of place. He had a suitcase in the back seat of my car. I had a strict no-smoking rule posted clearly, and everyone respected it because I was the sober driver they could trust. While he was inside the house longer than expected, something felt off. So I cracked open the suitcase. Inside was a lot of cash and a lot of cocaine. I closed it right back up, left him there, drove straight back to the office, and told the bureau manager exactly what I had seen. The look on that manager’s face told me everything—he knew. They had been using me as the clean driver, the guy who would not ask questions and take them in and out of really dangerous situations. I did not work there much longer after that. It got weird. But I walked away with my integrity intact. There’s a lot more story to tell, but let’s just say I’m still around. Many of them aren’t. Bad things happen to bad people, and I don’t have to spell that out with seashells on a beach.
Another time, I was driving a professional sports celebrity—one well-known in Cincinnati—along with four of his girlfriends, all about my age. We pulled into a nightclub parking lot, and this guy, drunk as a skunk, dropped ten thousand dollars out of his jacket. Hundreds scattered everywhere in the wind. The girls in their heels were stumbling around trying to help, and one of them even broke a heel. I got out, chased down every last bill, and handed it all back to him. I could have kept some—no one would have known—, but that is not who I am. I have always been the guy who gives it back, who does the right thing even when no one is watching. That same circle of people trusted me because I was reliable, sober, and not interested in their girls or their vices. They sought me out to drive them around with their celebrity friends, stacks of cash, and all the temptations that come with that life. I saw the signals they used among themselves—casual phrases, gestures, the way they would talk about “taking care of business” without ever saying the quiet part out loud. Hitmen I knew in those days operated the same way. They did not advertise; they responded to the bat signal, the coded message that let them know what was expected without leaving fingerprints.
That is precisely what Comey did with those seashells. As director of the FBI, he spent years dealing with organized crime, making deals with witnesses, flipping hitmen, and understanding the language of the streets better than most street operators themselves. He knew “86” was not just restaurant slang for canceling an order; in the mob world, it has meant something darker for generations. He knew 47 referred to the man who had just been elected president for the second time. And he knew there were radicals out there— the kind who write manifestos and case hotels like the one at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner—who would read that message loud and clear. The same goes for the assassin who took out Charlie Kirk in September of last year at Utah Valley University. These are not isolated incidents. They are the result of years of reckless rhetoric from people who should know better. Eric Holder talking about “when they go low, we kick them.” Nancy Pelosi ripping up speeches on camera. Maxine Waters telling crowds to harass Trump officials in public places. Chuck Schumer, standing on the steps of the Supreme Court, warned justices that they would “reap the whirlwind” if they ruled the wrong way. These are not neutral political statements. They are signals, the modern version of putting out seashells on a beach.
I can say without hesitation that I have despised Barack Obama for years. “Hate” is too soft a word; I see him as a product of the Weather Underground crowd—Bill Ayers, Bernardine Dohrn, and the rest of those America-hating radicals—who helped shape a worldview meant to undo the foundations of this country. He was always a communist at heart in my view, always playing the long game to weaken the United States from within. But even in my angriest moments, I never once contemplated violence against him. I never plotted, never whispered a word to anyone about harming him or anyone in his circle. The only thought I ever had was to defeat him at the ballot box. I rallied behind Mitt Romney in 2012, felt the sting when he lost, and watched John McCain play too nice in 2008 while Obama played hardball. Republicans kept bringing a softball to a knife fight, and we kept losing. That frustration is what led many of us to support Trump in the first place—he was willing to fight back the way the Democrats had been fighting for decades. But fighting back means holding elections, engaging in debates, filing lawsuits, and exposing corruption in the light of day. It does not mean sending coded messages that inspire lunatics to grab guns and storm hotels or snipe activists on college campuses.
That is why I got involved in politics myself. I want to shape the world the way I believe it should be—through truth, justice, and the American way. I participate in discourse; I write; I speak out; I support candidates who share my values. I do not sit in the shadows hoping some unhinged person will do my dirty work for me. The manifesto left by the guy at the Hilton showed real planning, real hatred, the kind of thinking that does not come from nowhere. It comes from years of mainstream figures normalizing the idea that Trump and his supporters are not just political opponents but existential threats who must be stopped by any means. Comey’s post was the latest in a long line of those signals, and the fact that it came right before—or right around—the time of another assassination attempt is not lost on me. The day after that incident at the dinner, the indictments were announced. The background work had already been done, but the public justification was now there.
People who have not lived the life I have lived do not understand how these things work. They think threats have to be explicit: “Go kill him.” But that is not how the real operators do it. They keep their hands clean. They project desire through symbols and phrases that sound innocuous to outsiders but carry weight for those in the know. I have known hitmen, judges who looked the other way, and mob figures who ran entire regions while pretending to be legitimate business people. I have seen how intimidation works—threats to families, dogs killed, cars blown up, houses vandalized. It happened all the time in Newport and along Chester Road in Sharonville back in the day. The mob had real power because people feared the consequences of crossing them. Prosecutors did not want their kids targeted. Judges did not want their reputations ruined. That is how organized crime survived for so long in southern Ohio and northern Kentucky. It is also how political corruption survives today. Comey knew this world intimately from his time at the FBI. He prosecuted some of these people, flipped others, and learned the language. When he posted those seashells, he was speaking that language, hoping one of the “crazies” on the fringe would act while he played the innocent Boy Scout afterward.
Look at his record. He let Hillary Clinton off the hook on the emails despite clear evidence of mishandling classified information. He sat on the Weiner laptop that contained damning material. The Hunter Biden laptop? Everyone in the intelligence community knew it was real, yet they suppressed it. The Russia collusion hoax against Trump was allowed to fester under his watch. These were not mistakes; they were choices. Choices that protected one side and targeted the other. That is the two-tier system of justice we have been living under for far too long. And when Trump got reelected, the desperation kicked in. The signals got louder. The seashells came out. Now, Comey faces charges for threatening the president and transmitting that threat across state lines via Instagram. Legal experts are already calling it a stretch, citing First Amendment issues, but I say those “experts” are wrong. Wrong in a big way. It is time someone held these people accountable.
The mob in this region did not disappear overnight. It lost power in the late 1960s and 1970s when federal crackdowns finally got serious, with casinos shut down and corruption scandals piling up. But the culture it left behind—the understanding of how power really operates, how signals are sent and received—lingers in the background. Normal people go about their lives unaware that there are networks of influence, coded communications, and people willing to act on them. I had the rare opportunity to see that world from the inside without becoming part of it. I drove the car, I saw the cash, I rejected the drugs, and I returned the money. I learned that ethics matter most when no one is looking. And I took those lessons into my political life. That is why I can call out Comey with confidence. That is why I know he was not just sharing a pretty picture. He was activating the same kind of network he once helped dismantle—or at least pretended to.
There is a larger conversation here about how criminal elements coexist with polite society. While families shop for groceries and cheer at ballgames, there is another layer operating just beneath the surface. In Newport during its heyday, celebrities like Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe rubbed shoulders with gangsters. Money flowed through legitimate businesses that fronted for illegal ones. Judges played golf with the same men they were supposed to be sentencing. It was a web of relationships that protected the powerful. The same web exists in politics today. Comey is not some lone eccentric posting pictures; he is part of a network that has spent years trying to undo the results of fair elections. The attempted hits on Trump—multiple now, including the one at the Hilton—and the murder of Charlie Kirk are symptoms of a sickness that starts at the top with people who should know better. They talk tough, they wink at violence, and then they act shocked when someone acts on it.
I have never participated in or condoned assassination talk. I have friends and acquaintances across the political spectrum, and we disagree fiercely, but we settle it at the polls or in the public square. That is the American way. Anything else is the road to chaos. Comey needs to face the full weight of the law, not just for the seashells but for the pattern of behavior that has eroded trust in our institutions for years. He should never see the outside of a jail cell again if justice is truly impartial. The same goes for others who have played the same game. It is time to prosecute the signals as well as the shooters. The bat signal has been sent one too many times. The public is watching now. The manifestos are being read. The connections are being made.
Truth, justice, and the American way are not slogans for me; they are the operating system. And right now, that system is under attack from within by people who think they can signal violence and then hide behind plausible deniability. Comey’s indictment is a step in the right direction, but it needs to be the beginning of a much larger reckoning. More charges. More accountability. More exposure of the two-tier system that has protected the corrupt for too long.
The guy who tried to get into the Hilton had been planning. The killer of Charlie Kirk had a rifle and a clear shot. These are not random acts of madness; they are the predictable outcome of years of demonization and coded encouragement. When powerful former officials post cryptic messages right before or around such events, it is no coincidence. It is pattern recognition. I have the experience to see the pattern because I lived it. I drove the car. I saw the suitcase. I picked up the money and gave it back. I reported what I saw even when it cost me a job, a really high paying job. That is the difference between people like Comey. He chose the shadows.
There is a lot more that could be said about the history of organized crime in this part of the country. Newport’s casinos and brothels were legendary. Figures like Moe Dalitz and connections to Meyer Lansky funneled money that helped build Las Vegas. Local officials were bought or intimidated. The Cleveland mob had a strong presence here, as did Chicago’s influence. It was a sophisticated network that understood how to operate in plain sight. Numbers runners worked out of places like Chester Road. Judges knew the players and still presided over their cases. It took federal intervention and public outrage to clean it up finally, but the lessons remain. Power protects itself. Signals are sent. And the little guy who gets caught in the middle either plays along or stands up.
I stood up. I still stand up. That is why I am in politics, why I speak out every day, and why I will keep calling this out until real justice is done. James Comey knew what those seashells meant. He knew the kind of people who would hear the message. He knew the history of coded communication because he lived it at the highest levels of law enforcement. And now he is facing the consequences. It is about time. There needs to be a lot more indictments, a lot more prosecutions, and a lot more honesty about how the game has been played. The American people deserve better than manipulative elites playing with fire while pretending to be above it all. We deserve leaders who fight fair, who respect the ballot box, and who do not wink at violence when their side loses.
We have seen the underbelly. We know how the signals work. And we will not let them get away with it. The seashells have been swept away, but the message they sent will not be forgotten. Justice is coming, and it starts with holding people like James Comey accountable for the words—and the symbols—they choose to put out into the world.
Footnotes
1. Details of the Comey indictment and “8647” interpretation drawn from multiple contemporaneous reports, April 2026.
2. White House Correspondents’ Dinner attempt by Cole Tomas Allen, April 2026, with released video and manifesto references.
3. Assassination of Charlie Kirk, September 10, 2025, at Utah Valley University.
4. Newport, Kentucky, “Sin City” history, including mob influence, gambling, and corruption from the 1920s to the 1960s.
5. Personal observations of Chester Road and Cincinnati-area organized crime activity consistent with local historical accounts.
6. Examples of political rhetoric from Holder, Waters, Schumer, and Pelosi are documented in public statements over the past decade-plus.
7. FBI and DOJ history with Comey’s handling of Clinton emails, Weiner laptop, and related matters referenced in official reports and congressional testimony.
8. Hank Messick’s works on the Cleveland mob and Newport, including Razzle Dazzle and Syndicate Wife, provide a detailed background on the regional syndicate operations.
9. General statistics on rising political violence post-2024 election drawn from public analyses by groups tracking domestic extremism.
Bibliography
• Messick, Hank. Razzle Dazzle: The Story of the Cleveland Mob.
• Messick, Hank. Syndicate Wife: The Story of Ann Drahmann Coppola.
• Bronson, Peter. Not in Our Town (local history of Cincinnati-area crime).
• Official DOJ indictment documents against James Comey, April 28, 2026.
• News coverage from NBC, Fox, Politico, and BBC on Comey seashell post and related events, 2025–2026.
• Historical accounts of Newport, KY, organized crime from Cincinnati Magazine and Northern Kentucky University sources.
• Public records on political violence incidents, including the Charlie Kirk assassination and the Trump attempts, 2025–2026.
• Durham Report and congressional investigations into FBI conduct under Comey.
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 more I think about it, now that the news stories have settled down and the people blowing on the fire revealed themselves, I really don’t like The Rooster, who goes by the real name D.J. Byrnes. It just so happens that the young lady he is saying had an affair with Vivek Ramaswamy, Alicia Lang, I watched grow up, and I think a lot of her, all positive. And it really bothers me that some lowlife like The Rooster would put her in political crosshairs as he did, purely out of desperation. I really haven’t thought much about The Rooster’s style of political reporting until he did this. But he crossed the line, and his actions actually match a deeper pattern of criminal activity, drug use, and vile behavior that deserves consideration, especially after what he purposely did to innocent people, which I think requires a deeper dive analysis. After he put out his hit piece story about Alicia, trying to hurt Vivek and his family in a purely inflammatory way, based on just jealous rumors and whispers, I don’t feel like being civil or fair to people who present themselves as openly bad for themselves and society at large. Ironically, a person like The Rooster would feel entitled to attempt to hide his own bad deeds behind speculative politics at best, with the intent to help the joke of a person, Amy Acton, with her campaign, now that people are remembering her as the Lockdown Lady, from her bad policies during the COVID-19 lockdowns in Ohio, which she was completely responsible for. We’re talking about a person who is saying terrible things about a young lady I know and like quite a lot, and I’m not happy about it, especially coming from a substance abuser of cocaine and other intoxicants, who has a police record. He’s the last person in the world who should be saying anything about bad behavior, especially when I know a lot about the characters involved and that the statements are excessively inflammatory, purposefully so.
Back in 2007, when he was a sophomore at the University of Montana, The Rooster got mixed up with a group planning to rob a local drug dealer who lived across from campus. The guy was supplying high-grade marijuana from California. Byrnes admits he helped scout the house and passed along info about money and weed—he thought it was just going to be a quick stick-up, no violence. On the night it went down, he showed up, saw it was turning into a party, texted the others to call it off, and left. But the rest of the crew went through with it—ski masks, forced entry, pistol-whipped the dealer, tied up his girlfriend.
A few months later, after some of the others flipped and cooperated, his name came up. In May 2008, he was hit with four felony charges in Missoula, bail set at $100,000. He turned himself in, and it all got resolved—he ended up with a two-year suspended sentence, no prison time, and the charges were eventually dismissed.
Then, in 2012, in Franklin County, Ohio, he pleaded guilty to two counts of misdemeanor criminal damage from a drunken property crime. It got really bad after he lost a union job in 2021. He was living in Franklinton with a liquor store right across the street, and had a serious drunk-driving car accident in 2020 that didn’t even slow him down. None of this is ancient history; he is still very much the same person today. Friends staged an intervention in 2022, and he’s been sober since.
President Trump’s next major executive order could create more millionaires than any single event in modern history, and he’s been dropping hints about it everywhere. It’s the kind of bold, pro-growth move that cuts through all the noise in Washington and actually puts real opportunity back in the hands of everyday Americans who are tired of being held back by bureaucracy and overregulation. But right now, what’s weighing on my mind even more is the ugly underbelly of Ohio politics, especially this smear campaign that’s unfolding against Vivek Ramaswamy as he fights to become the next governor of our state. I feel like I need to lay it all out here because it’s not just politics as usual—it’s something deeper, something that touches on character, truth, and the kind of righteous indignation that has defined human history from the days of the Dead Sea Scrolls right up to today. Amy Acton, the former health director under Governor DeWine who’s now running as the Democrat nominee for governor in 2026, has been having a rough time explaining herself. Her record from the COVID lockdowns is a disaster, and her personal life has come under scrutiny with that 2019 police report showing a domestic dispute where she and her husband had been drinking, she took some prescription meds, got upset over work hours, pulled a mirror off the wall, and shattered the glass. Her team calls it just a simple argument, but it paints a picture of someone who doesn’t manage personal affairs all that well, and in a high-stakes race like this, it matters. She was the lockdown lady, one of the worst in the nation, pushing policies that wrecked small businesses, families, and the economy of Ohio. A lot of people are still digging out from under that, and her bedside manner, which might comfort some Democrats, isn’t winning over moderates, independents, or conservatives. She’s not grabbing independents because they remember the damage.
I was covering this hit piece by a Columbus-based Substack writer known as The Rooster—real name D.J. Byrnes—on Vivek Ramaswamy, and at first I thought it was just the usual noise that comes with being the frontrunner. Vivek has Trump’s endorsement, he’s leading in most polls against Acton in what’s shaping up to be a competitive but Republican-leaning race, and when you’re out front, people take shots. But there’s another layer to this that left me unsatisfied and, honestly, filled with a deep sense of righteous indignation. I don’t say that lightly, and I’ll explain why it hits me so hard. I happen to know a lot of the people involved personally, not because I’m out there name-dropping for clout, but because in my work as an independent journalist and through my networks in Ohio, I’ve built real relationships over the years. People want to know how I can speak with such conviction on these matters, and it’s because I’ve been in the room, on the calls, and seen these folks up close. That includes Senator George Lang, whom I know very well—our friendship goes beyond politics, it’s mutual respect outside the arena. And crucially, I know his daughter to be a very respectable young lady who doesn’t deserve to be thought of in such a trashy way, as The Rooster tried to portray her, as a shadow of himself to carry the sins of his own actions as a displaced figure, outside himself. The Rooster pushed a story about a supposed sexual relationship or “booty calls” with Vivek whenever he’s in southwestern Ohio. I’ve known Alicia for a very long time. She’s nothing like a Stormy Daniels type, as The Rooster tried to make her sound in order to tear away at Vivek Ramaswamy’s reputation, even without a grain of truth. She’s smart, dedicated, hardworking, and involved at the highest levels of politics because she comes from a family that values service and excellence. The assumption that just because she traveled with Vivek’s campaign or worked as his deputy chief of staff or whatever her role was, that there must be some sleazy affair—that’s absolutely presumptive on behalf of very low-life opinions on how professional people conduct themselves. It’s not just false; it’s malicious.
When I first talked about this story, I tried to keep a level head, but it came across a bit restrained because I was containing my extreme anger. It bothers me at a fundamental level. Knowing the people involved, knowing how false this is, it stirs something in me that goes straight back to the kind of ethical conduct and judgment I’ve been studying deeply. As a birthday gift to myself this year, my wife and I treated ourselves to a membership at the Museum of the Bible in Washington, D.C. We’ve been there several times, but this visit was special because of the traveling Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit straight from Israel. I’ve always wanted to see them up close—the real thing—and I love the writings from the Second Temple period. We spent the entire afternoon there, no phones, no distractions, just hours immersed in those ancient texts. I bought gifts from the shop afterward, all Dead Sea Scroll-themed, because the material and content put me in heaven. That exhibit, combined with everything else at the museum, reminded me why I wear this particular hoodie so often these days—it’s my new favorite, a constant reminder of that day. What struck me most wasn’t just the scrolls themselves, but the philosophy of ethical conduct and righteousness that pours out of them. I think often of the Teacher of Righteousness, the enigmatic leader of the Essene community at Qumran who wrote or inspired so much of what we have in those scrolls. He led this sect in a righteous rebellion against the “Wicked Priest” of the Temple establishment—corrupt figures who had twisted power and law for their own gain. You don’t see a ton of direct talk about it in the canonical Bible, but Jesus himself was likely influenced by or connected to that Essene tradition as it spread from the desert community near the Dead Sea, a day’s walk from Jerusalem. In whatever way people remember me down the centuries, I think it will be in a similar way as the Dead Sea Scrolls talked about this Teacher of Righteousness, and for that, I would be quite satisfied.
Those scrolls are an exploration into righteousness and how it confronts evil in the world. The Teacher of Righteousness embodied that judgment call against hypocrisy and wickedness, helping lay the groundwork for what became Christian thought and, ultimately, Western civilization’s emphasis on moral clarity. The Dead Sea Scrolls are filled with righteous indignation—clear distinctions between good and evil, the War Scroll outlining battles against the forces of darkness, the Book of Enoch with its visions of judgment, the Copper Scroll, and apocryphal texts that didn’t make the final cut but reveal the raw sentiments of the time. The Essenes hid these in jars in caves to preserve truth against purges and turbulence, and they survived the Romans, the Crusades, everything, to reach us. That’s why seeing them in person on my birthday was one of the happiest days of my life. I was removed, for those hours, from the daily grind of dealing with people who don’t always deserve the encouragement or support I try to give them. It was a day where righteousness was openly embraced, unfiltered.
That same righteous indignation is exactly what I feel toward this smear against Vivek Ramaswamy and, by extension, Alicia Lang. The Rooster’s piece is based on innuendo, whispers from people with personal gripes or political axes to grind, hoping something sticks to help Amy Acton, whose campaign is struggling to close the gap. Polls right now show the race tight—some have Vivek up by a few points, others have Acton with a slight edge, but Vivek is the clear Republican frontrunner with Trump, Vance, and the establishment behind him. RealClearPolitics averages and surveys from Emerson, Bowling Green State University, and others put it within a couple of points, but Ohio is trending Republican, and Vivek’s vision for the state—pro-business, anti-woke, focused on actual results—resonates. Acton has name recognition from her days as a health director, but it’s mostly negative among anyone who lived through the lockdowns she championed. The Rooster, D.J. Byrnes, has a history of this kind of thing. He’s a left-leaning Substack writer in Columbus known for hit pieces on politicians, often with a partisan edge. His own background includes past legal troubles—felony charges back in 2008 as discussed, related to robbery planning, alcohol and substance issues, misdemeanors for criminal damage. People who aren’t doing well themselves often project their failings onto others, tearing them down to avoid personal judgment against them. That’s the pattern here. He wanted dirt on Vivek to prop up Acton, so he ran with rumors of an affair, implying booty calls in southwestern Ohio, travel together somehow equaling infidelity. No evidence, no pictures, no proof—just whispers. If he had real dirt, he’d have used it, but instead it’s all fabrication to hurt a good man and a nice young woman whose only crime is being effective and connected to strong Republican figures like her father, Senator George Lang, the majority whip.
I watched Alicia grow up. It’s very weird to hear her name associated with any kind of detrimental behavior, which is why the credibility of the accusation falls apart so quickly outside the minds of really stupid people. She’s too smart, too dedicated to public service and making the world better, to throw it all away on something reckless. Vivek is a family man, a brilliant entrepreneur who has written books, built businesses, run for president, and is now all-in on Ohio as Trump’s pick for governor. He’s too calculating, too focused on big ideas—reforming education, cutting regulations, fighting the administrative state—to risk it on some affair. He’s seen up close what Trump went through with endless false accusations, and he’s smart enough not to hand ammunition to enemies. Republicans I know in these circles are productive people—running businesses, passing bills at 2 a.m., obsessed with enterprise and results. They don’t have time for the kind of extramarital nonsense or “cocaine bins and gentlemen’s clubs” that seem more common in certain Democrat or swampy circles. I’m not saying it never happens on our side, but in my experience, the busy, value-creating conservatives don’t live double lives. Democrats, by contrast, often project their own base instincts—obsession with sex, loneliness, primal urges—onto everyone else. They assume that because they think that way, everyone does. It’s part of a broader spiritual warfare: dumbing people down to biological instincts so evil can play in their minds unchecked. That’s why they hate judgment, hate the Bible, hate capitalism, hate billionaires who succeed through merit. “Don’t judge,” they say, while judging everyone who holds them accountable.
The Rooster’s article feels cooked because he’s in trouble himself—trying to get clean, mad at the world, unable to maintain relationships. People like Alicia walk by and don’t give him the time of day because she’s in a world of jackets and ties, reverence for law and order, not slobs in sleeping-bag clothes. He wants to beat others to the punch, psychologically tearing down good people so he doesn’t feel bad about his own choices. That’s evil in the classic sense—the kind the Essenes railed against in their scrolls: wicked priests who corrupt institutions, attack the righteous to cover their own rot. The Teacher of Righteousness stood against that, and so should we. This smear isn’t just politics; it’s an attempt to undermine Trump’s pick, hurt Senator Lang’s family, and drag down anyone positioned to impose judgment on unrighteous behavior. Vivek is out there fighting for Ohio—higher education reform, economic dawn, real leadership—while Acton offers complaints about billionaires and special interests without a positive vision. Her lockdowns hurt the very people she claims to champion, and now personal issues resurface at the worst time.
I’ve known a lot of characters in the Ohio Statehouse, and the productive ones—Republicans focused on bills, sponsorships, businesses—aren’t the ones chasing Hooters servers or Twin Peaks nights out with the guys trying to get the phone number of 21-year-old kids working there trying to hustle tips from creepy old men. They’re on conference calls at odd hours talking policy, not conquests. Vivek’s too busy saving the world, literally, with his ideas on everything from biotech to government efficiency. Alicia’s the same—interested in politics because her family instilled values of service, not some emotional fling. Intelligent people fight animal instincts; that’s what Genesis teaches—dominion over nature, including human nature. You don’t yield to the snake. True conservatives live that way, all hours. Democrats often don’t, and when they can’t catch Republicans in real scandals, they invent them, just like the endless failed attacks on Trump—no evidence here either; the Rooster dusted off rumors to fit the narrative.
That’s why the Dead Sea Scrolls resonate so powerfully with me. They represent an awakening: a rebellion against institutional evil, preserved through centuries because the Essenes were clever enough to hide truth in plain sight, yet protected places. The Teacher of Righteousness made judgment calls that shaped righteousness as we know it—unfiltered criticism of wickedness. I despise the kind of people who tear down goodness: the Rooster, Acton’s defenders, Democrats who solicit the down-and-out to unleash chaos while screaming “no judgment.” They yearn for approval through base means because their minds are vacant of higher thoughts. Sex, for many of them, is about filling loneliness or seeking validation, not the sacred trust it should be. Lonely, unfulfilled people project that onto productive leaders like Vivek. But I know better from personal experience. I’ve been on calls with these high-level figures; they talk policy, bills, sponsorships—not “hot 21-year-olds,” they can send naked selfies to at 3 AM. That’s the difference between those with righteous indignation fighting daily for truth and those attacking to avoid self-reflection.
As we head into the May 5 primary and then the November 2026 election, this race matters. Vivek vs. Acton is a contest of visions: one of excellence, innovation, and Ohio-first results; the other of big-government nostalgia and lockdown mentality. Polls fluctuate—Bowling Green had them nearly tied recently, Emerson and others show Vivek with edges or Acton with slight leads depending on the sample—but the ground is shifting toward Republicans, especially with Trump’s coattails and the union voters who’ve flipped. Acton’s past as the face of COVID overreach haunts her; people remember the wrecked economy, the businesses lost. Knowing Alicia and her family, and seeing how this hit piece tries to cause collateral damage to good people to prop up a weak candidate, it demands that we apply the wrath of righteousness the scrolls celebrate. Rub their noses in the evil of fabrication, projection, and tearing down the upright so the wicked feel better.
I gave myself that day at the Museum of the Bible because I spend so much energy encouraging people who most of the time don’t deserve it, trying to lift them toward a better life. It’s usually worth it, but exhausting. The scrolls recharged me with unapologetic judgment against evil. That’s what we need now: call out the Rooster’s pattern of hit pieces rooted in his own unresolved issues, Acton’s inability to escape her record, and the broader Democrat strategy of no judgment on themselves while attacking anyone who might impose it. Vivek and Alicia represent the productive, value-creating side—the capitalists, the church-goers, the constitutionalists who think big thoughts, not just act on instinct. They don’t have room for double lives because they’re too busy building.
In my upcoming book, The Politics of Heaven, which I’m excited to release in 2027, I dig deep into these themes—a treasure hunt through heaven and human history, exploring how spiritual warfare plays out in politics and daily life. The Dead Sea Scrolls are a big part of that, showing how righteousness rebels against the kingdoms of evil, did good things that have impacted many thousands of years in a positive way. This whole episode with the Rooster’s article fits perfectly: an attempt to dirty the best-positioned people to cast judgment, just like the Wicked Priest against the Teacher. But truth prevails, as those scrolls did. I’ve seen enough in my years following politics to know that lies like this eventually flush out. Vivek will win because Ohio voters see the contrast, and people like me will keep shining light on it. Don’t take anything for granted—engagement matters, turnout matters. But I feel good about where things stand because leaders of character rise above smears.
Personally, this fills me with the kind of indignation the Essenes captured so vividly. The world hates righteousness because it exposes darkness. Democrats hate judgment because they don’t want mirrors held up to their choices. The Rooster attacks Alicia and Vivek because good people make him feel small. But we judge bad behavior—that’s our duty. The scrolls teach that, the Bible affirms it, and Western civilization thrives on it. I’m proud to stand with Vivek, with the Lang family, and with anyone fighting that good fight. Ohio deserves better than recycled lockdown architects or rumor-mongers. We deserve governors who create opportunity, not destroy it—like the executive orders Trump hints at that could mint millionaires by unleashing American potential.
What really bothers me about people like the Rooster is how they’ve wrapped themselves in layer after layer of bad conduct—criminal enterprises, drug abuse, alcohol abuse—and then spent the rest of their days trying to bury it by tearing down everyone else. He’s never built a real life for himself: no lasting relationship, no wife, no kids, no one who depends on him in the way that forces a man to grow up and take responsibility. Instead, all he has is this parasitic habit of pointing fingers at others, inventing lies when there’s nothing real to find, all so he doesn’t have to face the wreckage of his own choices. That’s why he gravitates to Democrat politics; it’s the same reason most of them do. They’re drowning in their own bad decisions, and they want government to prop them up, to blur the standards and give them a false sense of value, the way that union jobs once did before it all fell apart. I’ve watched him for years now, and it’s clear he’s the type who can’t stand the sight of good people succeeding because it reminds him how far he’s fallen.
The people in the Statehouse—Republicans especially—have treated him with more decency than he deserves. They gave him the presumption of free speech, let him roam the halls, answered his questions, and never turned their backs on him, even when his “investigative reports” were obviously aimed at dragging everyone down to his level. They let him get away with it for too long, thinking fairness and open dialogue would eventually win out. But fairness only works with people who still have a conscience. With someone like the Rooster, that goodwill just gets weaponized. He abuses the very respect he’s been shown, using it as cover while he tries to smear good families, good candidates, and good public servants who actually build things instead of tearing them down.
At the end of the day, people like him are just bad from the inside out, and they’re what makes the world, politics, and every social interaction worse. They flock to tyrannical, centralized figures like Amy Acton because that kind of top-down control lets them avoid judgment and lets them keep living the same reckless, unaccountable lives. They’re a detriment to the perpetuation of the human race, plain and simple. The only real solution isn’t dragging them into some court or legal loophole—it’s maintaining a steady, unapologetic presence of righteous indignation. They need to feel the full wrath of righteous judgment cast straight at them, not out of cruelty, but because they’ve proven themselves too despicable to be granted the same affiliation and respect given to people of real value. Only then will they lose the free rein to keep casting their weapons against the good people who are actually trying to make things better.
In Columbus, reporters like The Rooster have stepped into this fray to fill a void they desperately seek to hide from the public. He has been somewhat open about his criminal past, struggles with drug and alcohol abuse, and the inability to maintain relationships. This reflects the broader plight of unrighteous Democrats and their fervent support for figures like Amy Acton, collective bargaining agreements, and leftist policies in general. These approaches serve primarily to conceal the fact that many of them have spent significant portions of their lives making poor choices.
They resent and actively hate individuals like future governor Vivek Ramaswamy, Senator George Lang, President Trump, and the broader billionaire class because these people demonstrate what is possible through discipline, innovation, and hard work. While successful Americans build businesses, create wealth, and provide sustainable upward mobility for their families and communities, others squander what little they have on casinos, drugs, and self-destructive behaviors. Rather than emulate what works, they tear down the achievers and advocate for government collectivism—a system where the unrighteous mob rules over the productive through taxation and redistribution. This allows them to confiscate resources from wealth builders and funnel them to those who refuse to build value in their own lives. Through Substack writings and similar platforms, they pretend to be crusaders against crime or corruption, when in reality, they are waging war on anyone who exposes their own shortcomings.
Ultimately, Vivek Ramaswamy and President Trump represent the opposite philosophy: they strive to restore opportunity so that anyone willing to get out of bed and work hard can achieve upward mobility. In the latter part of his life, President Trump has focused on giving back this chance to the American people. The critics, like this Columbus reporter and his ideological allies, know deep down they will never get their own lives in order enough to seize such opportunities. Staring into the mirror each morning reveals their failures, breeding a deep resentment toward those who succeed. This is why they slander the virtuous and push policies designed to drag everyone down to their level of dysfunction.
Footnotes
1. The Rooster Substack article on Vivek Ramaswamy and Alicia Lang rumors, published April 2026.
2. NBC News report on Amy Acton’s 2019 police report, April 2026.
3. Ballotpedia and Wikipedia entries on the 2026 Ohio gubernatorial election, with Amy Acton as the Democratic nominee.
4. RealClearPolitics and Bowling Green State University polling averages for Ramaswamy vs. Acton, April 2026.
5. Museum of the Bible official site on Dead Sea Scrolls Exhibition, November 2025–September 2026.
6. Wikipedia and scholarly sources on Teacher of Righteousness, Essenes, Qumran, and Damascus Document.
7. Ohio Capital Journal and Dispatch coverage of Acton campaign and fundraising, 2026.
8. Background on D.J. Byrnes (The Rooster), past legal issues from public records and reporting.
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.
Everybody in Columbus politics knows exactly who “the Rooster” is. His real name is D.J. Byrnes—Donald J. Byrnes—, and he runs The Rooster, a Substack newsletter that bills itself as “All of Ohio’s depravity. All the time.” He’s been a fixture at the Ohio Statehouse for years now, showing up with a cameraman, ambushing lawmakers in stairwells and elevators, filming confrontations, and turning routine hallway traffic into his personal gotcha moments. He dresses like he just rolled out of bed after a rough night—sloppy, unkempt, always looking like the guy who doesn’t quite fit the professional scene he’s infiltrating. He walks the room, always angling to be “on camera,” and is purposely disruptive because he genuinely believes he’s fighting corruption. I get the impulse. I respect a free press that scrutinizes people in positions of power. What I don’t respect—and what I can’t abide—is when someone starts making stuff up, or at the very least, wildly inflating unverified rumors, because it fits their narrative or their personal demons.
I’ve interacted with the Rooster plenty of times since I first ran into him at the Capitol. He’s always struck me as someone carrying a heavy load. He’s talked openly about his own struggles with drinking. He’s written about it himself—how alcoholism nearly destroyed him around 2020-2022, how he hit rock bottom, lost relationships, and eventually got sober sometime in 2022 or 2023 after an intervention from friends. He’s admitted in his own posts that putting down the bottle saved him money, calories, and probably his life. He’s approaching 40 now, no kids, no wife, a string of failed relationships behind him. He’s described himself as having toxic habits from his college days onward. People who’ve been around him for years say it’s not exactly a secret. He comes across as socially awkward, the kind of guy who projects a “GameStop” geek—sloppy, outsider vibe, always dressed down, always seeing scandal everywhere because he knows what’s inside himself.
I feel for the guy on a human level. A lot of people have things in their lives their ashamed of. They have moments where they can’t hold it together. When you’re battling that kind of internal chaos—whether it’s the bottle, failed relationships, or just the inability to build something lasting—you look for an outlet. For the Rooster, fighting what he sees as “corruption” became that outlet. It’s a way to transfer all that restless energy into something that feels productive. From his perspective, he’s a hero shaking up the system. He’s anti-power, anti-establishment, the guy who asks the questions mainstream reporters won’t. He’s not purely partisan in every single piece. But the disproportion is glaring. The overwhelming focus, the tone, the nicknames he slaps on Republican leaders (“Governor Sleepy Tea” for DeWine, “Third-Place Frank” for LaRose, etc.)—it’s clear where his sympathies lie. He’s been a big-time active supporter, in spirit if not officially, of Amy Acton’s gubernatorial campaign, the Lockdown Lady. Acton, the former Ohio Health Director who became the face of COVID lockdowns in the state, is struggling in the polls against Vivek Ramaswamy. Everybody knows it. The Rooster knows it. And when you’re desperate to advance a campaign that’s losing steam, hit pieces start looking like a lifeline.
I’ve been around Ohio politics long enough to see the pattern. The same media ecosystem that manufactured cases and events around Trump—stuff that never stuck because it was built on sand—is now trying the same playbook here in Ohio. Vivek is out front, a successful entrepreneur, family man, someone who flies home to his wife and kids rather than lingering in hotels. He’s not the type to fall for cheap temptations. I’ve met Vivek Ramaswamy plenty of times. I’ve met his wife, Apoorva, several times. I’ve met his parents. They’re good, solid people. The Ramaswamy family is the real deal—nice, grounded, focused on bigger things than one-night scandals. Vivek travels the way high-level people do: private jet for efficiency, but he comes home. He doesn’t stay overnight chasing affairs. He’s too smart, too disciplined, and too watched. The criticism from the left is always the same: he’s a rich guy hanging with Elon Musk, flying around, must be unethical. It’s the Democrat mindset—projecting their own assumptions about success onto people who actually built something. They can’t fathom that some people don’t share their weaknesses.
The Rooster recently published a piece titled “The woman at the center of the Vivek Ramaswamy infidelity rumors.” In it, he claims—based on “more than 10 trusted Republican sources” who all independently named her—that Alicia Lang, daughter of influential State Senator George Lang (R-West Chester), is the woman at the heart of an affair with Vivek. He ties it to her work history: she managed Sharon Kennedy’s Ohio Supreme Court campaign in 2020, then served as Vivek’s Deputy Chief of Staff through December 2022, moved to Strive Asset Management (the company Vivek co-founded with J.D. Vance and others), was promoted, and later joined another venture. He mentions Vivek’s private jet being in Indianapolis for a week in late February/early March 2026 with no campaign activity. He notes rumors surfacing around the same time Vivek’s campaign ad about his third child dropped, and betting odds on Kalshi flipped in favor of Acton. He even references an anonymous tip through his “Dirt Box.” Yet he admits he hasn’t seen any photographs or video. It’s all anonymous sources and timeline speculation. No hard evidence. Just enough smoke to try lighting a fire.
I happen to know Alicia Lang well. I’ve known her since she was a young girl—12 years old, a fan of my work, someone who’s read my writing diligently. I know her mother, Debbie Lang, very well. I know the entire Lang family. These are good people who have fought real corruption behind the scenes for years. They’ve been through tough times and stayed loyal to each other. Alicia grew up in that environment—politically savvy, smart, charismatic like her mother, with a positive outlook forged in real hardship. She’s worked high-level campaigns, had access to powerful people, and conducted herself with integrity every step of the way. The idea that she would “sleep her way to the top” or get caught up in some tawdry affair with a married man who’s constantly surrounded by staff, security, and the public eye is laughable to anyone who actually knows her. She’s way too sharp for that. She’s seen how the game works—the cameras, the leaks, the scrutiny. Families like the Langs don’t survive and thrive in Ohio politics by making rookie mistakes.
I’ve talked to Vivek enough to understand his character. He’s not subject to those kinds of temptations. He’s got a nice wife at home, kids, a mission bigger than any fleeting thrill. The Rooster’s sources? I don’t buy that they’re genuine Republicans with clean hands. More likely, they’re people with a beef against George Lang, because he’s the Majority Whip in the Senate—maybe Democrats or disgruntled insiders trying to use the Rooster’s platform to settle scores. The Rooster doesn’t name them. That’s convenient when you’re pushing a narrative that could destroy reputations. He’s gambling that “some Republicans said it” is enough. It’s not. Especially when you’re talking about a young woman who isn’t even the candidate herself, she’s a staffer, a daughter, a private citizen in many respects despite her connections. There’s a higher legal standard there that the Sullivan case won’t cover, and you can’t just float rumors without consequences.
This is where the Rooster’s personal issues bleed into his work. When you can’t maintain basic relationships, when you’ve battled the bottle for years, when your own life feels chaotic, it’s easy to see chaos everywhere else. He projects his weaknesses onto others. He sees cocaine binges and sexual scandals in the Statehouse because it’s easier than looking in the mirror at his own broken life. He migrates to sexual stories. He assumes everybody’s doing what he’s done or wanted to do. It’s classic psychological projection—transferring your own sins and struggles onto others so you can fight them externally instead of dealing with them internally. I’ve seen it before in people. You feel sorry for them because you know they’re hurting, but when they start dragging innocent people into their redemption arc, sympathy turns to accountability.
He’s gone after other people I know—Jennifer Gross, for example—in ways I thought were unfair. But this crossed a line. When you target someone like Alicia, who’s conducted herself ethically her entire life, who comes from a family that’s fought real battles, who is too smart and too grounded to fall for “cheap thrills,” you’re not journalism anymore. You’re rumor-mongering. And in the age of defamation law, especially post-New York Times v. Sullivan, with the lower standards for public figures versus the higher bar for private individuals, this is dangerous territory. Alicia isn’t a public official running for office. She’s a young professional who’s worked on campaigns and big ventures. The Rooster assumes everyone has their vulnerabilities as he does. They don’t. Vivek and Alicia certainly don’t.
The Rooster has been doing this in earnest since around 2020, with Substack exploding in popularity. He’s published over 1,700 dispatches. But the style is gossip mixed with innuendo, nicknames, and sensationalism. He calls himself a “concerned citizen who commits acts of journalism.” He ambushes people, follows them upstairs, and pleads with troopers about the First Amendment. Some lawmakers call him a security threat or narcissistic. Others engage because ignoring him feeds the narrative. He’s been restricted at the Statehouse—lobby closures, doorway bans. He’s been banned from X (formerly Twitter) for extreme posts. He leans left, but claims anti-power. In practice, the targets skew Republican, especially when it helps a candidate like Amy Acton.
Acton’s campaign is struggling. The lockdowns she oversaw as Health Director are still remembered—harsh restrictions that hurt businesses, families, and kids’ education. People haven’t forgotten. Vivek represents the opposite: pro-growth, anti-woke, entrepreneurial success. So the hit pieces come out. The same playbook used on Trump—make something stick, even if it’s a rumor and speculation. The Rooster thinks he’s shaking up stuff mainstream reporters won’t touch. But you don’t fabricate or amplify lies about people who don’t deserve it. Especially not to project your own unresolved issues.
I know a lot of the people the Rooster writes about. I know what they do when they’re far from home. I know how they conduct themselves. The Statehouse isn’t the den of iniquity he paints it as—at least not to the extent he claims. Sure, human flaws exist everywhere. But the level of cocaine-fueled orgies and affairs he implies? That’s his lens, not reality for most. Good families like the Langs, successful people like Vivek—they have too much at stake, too much discipline, too many eyes on them. Alicia has her mother’s charisma and her family’s resilience. She’s not some average lowlife, like the Rooster. I think he’s going to find himself in trouble. Defamation isn’t protected speech when it’s reckless and false. He can only blame himself.
I’ve never shied away from calling out corruption when I see it. That’s why I can speak confidently here. I know these people personally. I’ve seen their character up close. The Rooster, for all his bluster, is projecting his own story onto others. It’s a redemption narrative for him—fighting the powerful to atone for his past. But when it harms the innocent, it ceases to be noble. And when wrong is done, it has to be punished.
Footnotes
1. D.J. Byrnes, “The woman at the center of the Vivek Ramaswamy infidelity rumors,” The Rooster, April 27, 2026.
2. Aaron Marshall, “Who is The Rooster? A Closer Look at D.J. Byrnes and His Controversial Blog,” Columbus Monthly, March 16, 2026.
3. D.J. Byrnes, “Retiring from alcohol was one of the best decisions of my life,” The Rooster, July 26, 2023.
4. Various posts on rooster.info detailing his sobriety journey and past struggles (2023-2024).
5. Amy Acton campaign site and related 2026 gubernatorial coverage.
6. Public records and statements on Vivek Ramaswamy’s family and travel patterns.
7. George Lang’s family public statements and known political involvement.
Bibliography
• Byrnes, D.J. The Rooster Substack (rooster.info). Multiple articles, 2023-2026, including sobriety posts and the April 27, 2026, infidelity rumor piece.
• Marshall, Aaron. “Who is The Rooster?” Columbus Monthly, March 16, 2026.
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 never thought I’d be sitting here reflecting on another attempt on President Trump’s life so soon after everything else that’s unfolded in this wild political landscape, but here we are, fresh off the chaos at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner on April 25, 2026, where a 31-year-old Democrat named Cole Tomas Allen from Torrance, California, decided to storm the security line at the Washington Hilton with multiple guns and knives, firing shots in a desperate bid to get close enough to the president to do the unthinkable. I hate to say it, but I saw this coming in the broader sense—not the specifics of this lone actor, but the pattern of rage and violence that keeps bubbling up from the same ideological corners that have targeted Republican leaders for generations. As someone who was just at the White House with my wife a few weeks ago, experiencing the layers of security firsthand—the rope barriers, the lengthy check-in processes, the offsite staging down Connecticut Avenue a mile and a half or two miles away that forces the president into inconvenient travel for events like this—I couldn’t help but connect the dots immediately when the news broke. The security is extensive, as it should be, but it’s not foolproof against someone willing to die in those first few chaotic seconds of a rush, and that’s exactly what Allen tried to pull off. He charged the barricades, shots rang out, a Secret Service officer took a hit to the chest but thankfully had no permanent damage and was released from the hospital later, and the whole thing ended with Allen tackled and wrestled to the ground without anyone else getting hurt. Trump, ever the fighter, wanted to go back in and continue the dinner, which I totally agree with—it’s a shame they had to evacuate and crawl off the stage in that embarrassing scramble, all because some loser with a grudge thought he could rewrite history with a bullet. But what fascinates me, and what I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since, is how this fits into a much larger, darker thread running through American history, one that stretches back to Abraham Lincoln and the very founding fractures of our republic. I’ve never been one to shy away from calling things what they are, and this wasn’t some random act of madness; it was the latest chapter in a strategy of storming the line when elections and arguments fail, and it’s a Democrat thing through and through, whether they admit it or not.
Let me back up a bit and share what I saw myself, because I was physically in Washington, D.C., not long before this all occurred, and it gave me a front-row perspective that makes the whole incident hit different. My wife and I spent several hours at the White House after touring it, soaking in the people’s house as it’s meant to be, and then we wandered the city doing other things. One of the stops my wife insisted on was Ford’s Theatre, just a few blocks from the White House on 10th Street, near the FBI building, the Department of Justice, and the Smithsonian. It’s in that little historic sector off Pennsylvania Avenue, and I’ve talked to plenty of frequent D.C. visitors who’ve never bothered to go there, which I find astonishing—if you live or work in the capital, why wouldn’t you make the pilgrimage to the spot where a president was assassinated? The day we visited, they were still running plays there—they had a production of 1776 on the schedule—but before the evening show, they let visitors in for a historic tour. I stood right at the box where Lincoln was shot, and downstairs in the basement museum, there’s this incredibly detailed exhibit on everything leading up to and after the assassination. I bought a stack of books—two from NASA engineers who created a portable AC unit that’s making old expensive models obsolete, plus a whole bunch more on the Lincoln era—and they were surprisingly good reads. The museum staff had a passionate member of the historic preservation society who gave a half-hour-to-45-minute talk on stage about the theater, John Wilkes Booth, and Lincoln at the time, and it was riveting. We geeked out hard on the historical preservation side of it, my wife and I, because we love that kind of deep dive into how events shape nations. Across the street, the house where Lincoln died is preserved exactly as it was, with the bed still set up, the waiting room where his wife sat through the night, and then an adjacent building turned into a multi-story museum with elevators and creative floor knockouts to display artifacts, including a three-story stack of every book ever written about Lincoln. It puts into perspective just how pivotal he was, how the Republican Party was born to defeat slavery under his leadership, and how the forces arrayed against him—Democrats of the day, essentially the party of the South and slavery—couldn’t accept the Civil War’s outcome.
That visit stayed with me, and when I heard about Cole Tomas Allen’s rush on the Hilton security, it felt like history repeating itself most chillingly. John Wilkes Booth was an actor, a celebrity of his time, a major supporter of slavery who hated the emerging Republican Party and the way Lincoln had led the Union to victory. Just days after Lee’s surrender, with Lincoln reelected and celebrating, Booth used his knowledge of Ford’s Theatre to slip into the private box, shoot Lincoln in the back of the head, jump to the stage, breaking his leg, and flee through the back. The search that followed was intense, and Booth was eventually cornered and killed. But the characteristics? The same righteous fury, the same belief that the political opposition had to be destroyed physically because they couldn’t be beaten at the ballot box or in debate. Booth wasn’t some outlier; he embodied the Democrat rage of the era against a Republican president who dared to end their way of life. Lincoln had done nothing but win the war fair and square, preserve the Union, and free the slaves, yet the opposition framed it as provocation. Sound familiar? Fast-forward to today, and you have Cole Tomas Allen, a mechanical engineer and computer scientist by training, an independent game developer, a part-time teacher who was even named Teacher of the Month in 2024 at a tutoring company in Torrance, flying across the country to storm a security checkpoint at an event where Trump was speaking. He had a room at the Hilton, multiple weapons, and the clear intention to get into that ballroom and take his shot before anyone could react. Preliminary reports note a small political donation to a PAC supporting Kamala Harris in 2024, and while he’s described as a lone wolf with no confirmed party registration, the pattern fits: Democrat-aligned frustration boiling over into violence when rhetoric and elections don’t deliver the outcome they want. The media and left-leaning voices immediately tried to flip the script, blaming Trump’s “rhetoric” for making people upset, as if his push to make America great again is the real crime. It’s the same framing they used after the Alex Jones Sandy Hook saga, where free speech got twisted into causing harm, setting precedents to silence opposition. And after the dinner was evacuated, there was a video of invited reporters—those paragons of lowlife character—stealing bottles of wine to take home, proving the event’s attendees weren’t exactly above reproach themselves.
To really grasp why this keeps happening, I think you have to zoom out and look at the full list of presidential assassins and would-be assassins throughout our history. It’s not a short roster, and when you examine the motives, the ideologies, and the political leanings, a disturbing trend emerges that the mainstream narrative loves to ignore or downplay. Start with the successful ones: Lincoln in 1865 by John Wilkes Booth, a pro-Confederate actor driven by Southern Democrat sympathies against the Republican who crushed slavery and the rebellion. Then, in 1881, James Garfield was shot by Charles Guiteau, a delusional office-seeker who claimed divine inspiration but whose act came amid the spoils system battles that Democrats often exploited. William McKinley in 1901 by Leon Czolgosz, an anarchist influenced by radical left-wing thought who saw the president as a symbol of capitalist oppression. John F. Kennedy in 1963 by Lee Harvey Oswald, a self-avowed Marxist who defected to the Soviet Union and had deep ties to communist and pro-Castro groups—hardly a right-winger. Those are the four who died in office from assassins’ bullets, and already you see a pattern leaning toward radical left or anti-Republican forces.
But the attempts are where it gets even more telling, especially when you layer in the modern era and the repeated targeting of Donald Trump. There was Andrew Jackson in 1835, targeted by Richard Lawrence, who blamed the president for personal financial woes tied to Democratic Party infighting, though he was acquitted on insanity grounds. Theodore Roosevelt, in 1912, was shot by John Schrank, a saloonkeeper obsessed with third-term politics, but whose act disrupted a progressive Republican campaign. Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1933 by Giuseppe Zangara, an Italian immigrant anarchist who hated “capitalists” and originally aimed at the mayor of Chicago, but killed the mayor instead when FDR’s motorcade shifted. Harry Truman in 1950 by Oscar Collazo and Griselio Torresola, Puerto Rican nationalists with left-leaning independence motives who tried to storm Blair House. Gerald Ford faced two attempts in 1975: first by Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme, a Charles Manson follower tied to radical environmental and left-wing cults, who pointed a gun at him in Sacramento; then by Sara Jane Moore, a radical leftist and associate of the Symbionese Liberation Army who fired shots in San Francisco. Ronald Reagan in 1981 by John Hinckley Jr., whose obsession was more personal but occurred amid a wave of anti-Republican sentiment. George W. Bush had plots against him involving various radicals. Barack Obama faced threats from white supremacists and others, but the volume pales compared to what Republicans endure. And then there is Trump; the list is staggering even before this latest one. In 2016, there were multiple threats and plots during the campaign. The 2024 Butler, Pennsylvania rally attempt by Thomas Matthew Crooks, a 20-year-old who fired from a rooftop, grazing Trump’s ear before being taken out by the Secret Service. Another incident occurred in Florida at Trump International Golf Club, where a man with a rifle was spotted near the perimeter. Now, this 2026 incident with Allen at the Correspondents’ Dinner, charging the line like Booth slipping into the theater box. These aren’t isolated; they’re symptoms of a side that resorts to bullets when ballots fail.
What strikes me most, having walked the very floors where Lincoln breathed his last and stood at that preserved box at Ford’s Theatre, is how the psychology hasn’t changed. His hatred of Lincoln’s policies radicalized Booth, his support for slavery, and his view that Republicans were destroying the Southern way of life. He plotted meticulously, using his insider knowledge as an actor to get close. Allen, from what’s emerging, flew in from California, checked into the very hotel hosting the event, and made his move in those critical seconds when security might be distracted. The media reaction was predictable: some outlets and commentators immediately pivoted to “Trump’s rhetoric provoked this,” echoing the post-event spin that it’s somehow the president’s fault for pushing back against globalism, terrorism, and the erosion of American values. They said the same about Lincoln—don’t provoke the South, let them keep their slaves, mind your own business. It’s the same gaslighting: if conservatives challenge the status quo, any violence that follows is on us. But I’ve studied this enough, and I’ve written extensively about the spiritual dimension behind it all, because this isn’t just politics; it’s a battle for the soul of the nation. In my upcoming book, The Politics of Heaven, which dives deep into the conspiracies plotting against God’s creation and the biblical foundations of true liberty, I lay out the receipts on how these movements—Marxist persuasions that gained traction in the mid-1800s and wormed into American soil—defend their ground with threats and acts of violence when ideas fail. Lincoln loved his Bible; Trump has found a genuine relationship with God amid his political fights. The Republican Party, born to end slavery and preserve the constitutional order, stands as a bulwark, and that’s why it draws the fire. People like Booth or Allen don’t just wake up one day and decide to kill; they’re vulnerable to the demon whispers that radicalize through hatred, the kind festering in elements of the Democrat machine where debate gets shut down, voices get canceled, and when that fails, the garden hose of violence gets turned on full blast.
I spent way more time at Ford’s Theatre than I expected because the exhibit was so well done—it’s not some dusty relic but a living museum with creative displays, like the stacked books soaring three stories high, symbolizing Lincoln’s enduring legacy. The staff noticed my intense interest, and we struck up conversations; they’re passionate preservers of history, serving everybody regardless of politics, but you could sense the hush around the violence angle. They know the truth—that the same evil that possessed Booth is at work today—but nobody wants to “set off” the other side or invite more backlash. It’s pathetic, really, this self-censorship where we’re told not to hurt Democrat feelings lest they unleash more of what they’ve always done. Across from the theater, the Petersen House, where Lincoln died, is equally powerful, with the bed and rooms preserved, and the expanded museum next door telling the full story of the search and cultural impact. My wife and I relished every minute because we value what the Republican Party stands for: anti-slavery roots, freedom’s perpetuation, the defense of God-given rights articulated in the Constitution and the Bible. We left with armfuls of books and a deeper appreciation, but also a resolve not to ignore the pattern anymore.
This latest attempt with Cole Tomas Allen underscores why events like the Correspondents’ Dinner can’t keep happening off-site in unsecured hotels. The White House is the people’s house, and it deserves a big, beautiful ballroom right on the grounds under the tightest security imaginable. No more driving all over town, exposing the president and officials to these risks. Trump’s reaction—wanting to push through and continue—shows the spirit we need. The low character on display afterward, with reporters pilfering wine while a would-be assassin was still being processed, just highlights the decadence. And the irony of Democrats and media claiming Trump caused this by “poking everyone in the eye” is rich; it’s the exact argument used against Lincoln for ending slavery. If you don’t want violence, stop defending indefensible positions like radical globalism or anti-American sentiment. The answer isn’t more policy tweaks; it’s confronting the spiritual warfare at the root, the kind I explore in The Politics of Heaven, with detailed explanations of how these hatreds possess people and why Republicans like Lincoln and Trump become targets. I’ve got the receipts in that book because too many conversations end with “how can you say that?”—well, here’s how, backed by history, facts, and faith.
Reflecting on my trip to D.C.—the White House shirt I picked up, the Ford’s Theatre geek-out with my wife, the realization that this city under Republican leadership feels vibrant and alive—I’m more convinced than ever that we learn from these tragedies by accelerating the ballroom project and calling out the pattern plainly. Killer democrats don’t represent every member of the party, but their movement has a historical strain of violence when cornered, from Booth to Allen and the attempts in between. It’s not new; it’s persistent. We preserve freedom not by cowering but by building stronger, speaking truth, and understanding the spiritual battle. The show goes on at Ford’s Theatre, plays still performed where history was made, and America will endure the same way—as long as we remember the lessons from 10th Street and apply them to today’s threats. The museum there could take a week to absorb fully, and every American should visit; it’s not just history, it’s a warning and a call to vigilance.
Footnotes:
[Footnote 1: Details on the April 25, 2026, incident drawn from contemporaneous reports, including Al Jazeera, The Times, Time magazine, and NBC Los Angeles coverage confirming Cole Tomas Allen’s identity, background, actions, and charges.]
[Footnote 2: Ford’s Theatre and Petersen House descriptions based on personal observations and standard historic site information from the National Park Service.]
[Footnote 3: List of presidential assassination attempts compiled from historical records, including those documented in sources like the U.S. Secret Service historical overviews and books such as The Presidents and the Assassins by Ronald J. Sterba.]
[Footnote 4: Political affiliations and motives of assassins cross-referenced with biographical accounts; e.g., Booth’s Confederate ties in American Brutus by Michael W. Kauffman.]
[Footnote 5: Upcoming book reference to The Politics of Heaven by the author, forthcoming, with a full analysis of spiritual and political conspiracies.]
Bibliography:
• Kauffman, Michael W. American Brutus: John Wilkes Booth and the Lincoln Conspiracies. Random House, 2004.
• Sterba, Ronald J. The Presidents and the Assassins: From Lincoln to Kennedy and Beyond. CreateSpace, 2015.
• National Park Service. Ford’s Theatre Official Guide. U.S. Department of the Interior.
• Various news reports on Cole Thomas Allen incident: Al Jazeera (April 26, 2026), The Times (April 26, 2026), Time (April 26, 2026), Washington Post live updates.
• Hoffman, Rich. The Gunfight Guide to Business, prior edition.
• Lincoln assassination primary sources: The Assassination of Abraham Lincoln by various compiled eyewitness accounts, Library of Congress archives.
• Trump assassination attempt histories: Official Secret Service reports and public records from 2024-2026 incidents.
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 had just come back from Washington, DC, where the streets were already buzzing with preparations for the big 250th anniversary celebrations of the United States this summer. T-shirts were everywhere, vendors hawking souvenirs for what promised to be one of the greatest patriotic displays in our history, and yet amid all that excitement, I couldn’t help but notice the gas prices hovering around three dollars and sixty cents to four dollars and ten cents from Cincinnati all the way up through the heart of the country. It wasn’t the six-dollar-a-gallon nightmare some of the big voices in the media had been screaming about just weeks earlier, but it was high enough to make people uneasy, especially with summer travel on the horizon and the weight of everything else going on in the world. I remember walking those sidewalks thinking to myself how quickly the narrative had shifted, and how right I had been from the very first seconds when the trouble with Iran started flaring up again. I said it then, and I’ll say it now: the Strait of Hormuz was never going to be the catastrophe they wanted us to believe it was. Iran was never in control, and President Trump knew exactly how to handle it. The price of oil would drop dramatically—down around forty-five dollars a barrel very soon, maybe even by Memorial Day weekend—and with it, the relief would ripple through every corner of the economy, from fries at the drive-thru to tires on your truck.
Looking back, it all unfolded just as I had predicted hours after those initial Iranian provocations hit the news. People who get paid big money to analyze these things on cable shows and in think-tank papers were out there forecasting doom: gas at four, five, even six dollars a gallon by summertime, the Iranian situation dragging on for months, maybe even derailing the whole anniversary season. But I saw through it immediately. The Strait of Hormuz, that narrow choke point carrying about a fifth of the world’s oil, had been threatened before, and history showed the pattern. Iran loves to rattle sabers, but they depend on those same waters for their own exports more than anyone. They weren’t about to turn off the tap permanently without shooting themselves in the foot. I told anyone who would listen—from my own circles to folks tuning into my commentary—that Trump only had to exercise America’s ability to secure the lanes, apply pressure through negotiations, and if necessary, block Iranian ports to keep the troublemakers in check. That’s exactly what happened. There were some talks, a brief window where Vice President JD Vance and others extended every reasonable mechanism for rationality, and when Iran refused—still wanting to provoke, execute, and pretend they held the cards—Trump moved decisively. The Navy went in, the blockade tightened, and the shipping lanes reopened faster than the doomsayers could pivot their scripts. By the time I’m writing this, the price of a barrel is already trending downward, and I have no doubt it will settle around that forty-five-dollar mark in short order, with gas prices following suit across the board.
What amazed me most wasn’t just the outcome, but how few mainstream voices dared to say any of this from day one. I did. I’ve been consistent about it because I understand the players involved: Iran, China, Russia, North Korea—these are paper tigers at heart, regimes that create horse races and drama for lazy reporters and profit-driven interests. They bluff because that’s all they have left after years of internal rot. Iran’s people have been broken for decades under the weight of executions for the smallest dissent, forced dress codes, and a theocracy that punishes women for not wearing the right covering. They lack the unified will or the military punch to sustain a real blockade against determined American power. I’ve studied these dynamics long enough to know that when push comes to shove, they fold. Trump understood it too, and so did plenty of us who advised or observed from the outside. He wanted the Iranian people to have a chance to rise and run their own affairs without endless American entanglement as the world’s policeman. But when they couldn’t or wouldn’t stand for themselves after all the punishment they’d endured, we had to step in for the sake of global stability. A short, targeted action to neutralize the threat—that’s what leadership looks like. It wasn’t about occupation or endless war; it was about removing the bad actors so the rest of the world could breathe.
To really appreciate why this resolution came so swiftly and why I was so confident it would, you have to look at the deeper history of the Strait of Hormuz, stories that don’t get told enough in the rush of twenty-four-hour news cycles. Take the Tanker War of the 1980s during the Iran-Iraq conflict. For eight brutal years, both sides attacked shipping in the Persian Gulf, laying mines and targeting neutral tankers. Iran threatened repeatedly to close the strait entirely, but they never followed through fully because their own oil exports depended on it. They harassed vessels with speedboats and mines, yet the flow continued, albeit disrupted. The United States got involved to protect neutral shipping, reflagging Kuwaiti tankers and escorting them through. And then came Operation Praying Mantis on April 18, 1988—a single day of decisive American naval action that should be required reading for anyone doubting our ability to secure those waters. After the USS Samuel B. Roberts struck an Iranian mine, the U.S. Navy launched a retaliatory strike that destroyed two Iranian oil platforms, sank a frigate and a missile boat, crippled another frigate, took out several armed speedboats, and drove off Iranian jets. It was the largest surface engagement for the U.S. Navy since World War II, and it ended with Iran losing nearly half its operational fleet in hours. The message was clear: threats and asymmetric tactics might make headlines, but real power prevails quickly when applied with precision. That history echoed in 2026. Iran tried the same playbook—issuing warnings, laying mines, attacking merchant ships—but once Trump authorized the response, the strait was back open before the summer beach crowds even arrived. No stalemate, no prolonged crisis wrecking our economy or the midterms. Just decisive action rooted in precedent.
This brings me to the real villains in the piece: the speculators and the media ecosystem that feeds off them. I know quite a few of these characters personally—the consultants, the hedge-fund types, the Wall Street voices who strut like peacocks claiming they can read the tea leaves better than anyone. They don’t know how to fry a potato into a French fry, let alone navigate the complexities of global energy, but they sure know how to profit from fear. In this case, they wanted oil prices to climb. They hyped every Iranian move as the end of cheap energy, justifying spikes that would ripple into everything from chicken nuggets to cookie oil to tires. Historical precedent shows how this works. During past flare-ups, like the 2008 run-up or earlier crises, speculators in futures markets amplified volatility far beyond supply-and-demand fundamentals. Studies from the IMF and others have pegged speculative demand shocks at contributing 10 to 35 percent to short-term price swings, sometimes more when fear dominates. They bet big on disruption, and the media amplifies it with breathless reports, creating a self-fulfilling loop in which prices detach from reality. Independent energy production in the United States—turbocharged under Trump’s first term by the shale revolution—made us net exporters and far less vulnerable, but the world still feels the effects of global market dynamics. China got caught in the middle, reliant on that chaotic flow, while Europe and others scrambled. Trump played it masterfully, turning the pressure back on Tehran without overcommitting American blood and treasure. Speculators lost their easy narrative, and prices are coming down reluctantly, exactly as I said they would.
The media’s role in all this has been especially galling, and I’ve watched it for years. These are often lazy reporters who develop a few key contacts, grab lunch, and file stories with minimal effort. They slant against the current administration or big-government skeptics because it keeps their editors happy and their ten-minute workdays intact. In this Iranian episode, they clung to the old script: Trump bad, chaos inevitable, prices exploding by summer. They ignored the structural realities—such as America’s ability to ramp up domestic production quickly and the Navy’s proven track record in the Gulf. I’ve said it before, and I’ll repeat it here: these regimes are paper tigers propped up for drama. Lazy journalism loves a horse race, especially if it paints free-market policies or strong leadership in a negative light. Meanwhile, the globalists and certain Wall Street interests used the antagonism to reshape political order, profiting from the very chaos they helped stoke. Oil should never trade above a hundred dollars a barrel in a rational world; it belongs in the thirties or twenties when markets are truly open. Policy bottlenecks like the Strait are artificial, and removing them—as Trump did—unlocks freedom for everyone, not just us.
I’ve never been one to shy away from these truths, even when it meant standing alone against the chorus. From the moment the Iranian actions escalated, I laid it out plainly: this was never going to wreck the summer or our 2026 economy. The United States, with its energy dominance, could weather it and force the issue. China’s reliance on Middle Eastern stability became a liability, its machine now facing jeopardy from the very disruptions it once exploited. Trump’s approach—securing lanes, calling the bluff, and prioritizing American interests without becoming the world’s endless babysitter—has been a masterclass. Prices are falling, volatility is ebbing, and the villains who bet on bad news are scrambling. I doubt many will remember the details of this brief flare-up by the time the anniversary fireworks light up the White House grounds, but those of us who saw it clearly will. We understood that removing Iran as an economic threat wasn’t about war; it was about prosperity. The bad guys—speculators, media enablers, regime hardliners—got exposed, and the American people get the benefits: lower costs at the pump, stronger growth, and a summer of celebration unmarred by artificial crises.
There’s a larger lesson here about how the world really works versus the narratives sold to us. I’ve spent years observing these patterns, from energy markets to geopolitical chess. Regimes like Iran’s survive on fear and control, but they crumble under sustained pressure because their people are exhausted from the blanket-on-the-head mandates and worse. Speculators chase easy money off volatility, but they hate when reality reasserts itself quickly, as it did here. And the media? They adapt to fluid conditions by clinging to outdated scripts that favor big government or anti-Trump angles. Trump knew it all along, just as I did. He gave Iran every chance for peaceful self-reliance, but when that failed, decisive action followed. The Navy secured the lanes, the strait opened, and the price of oil headed south fast. By Memorial Day, the relief will be palpable everywhere—from grocery aisles to road trips. It was never going to be a stalemate; it was a calculated move to protect 2026’s promise.
Some might wonder why I keep emphasizing these points. It’s because I’ve seen the cost of ignoring them. A few weeks ago, while speculation ran wild, people were bracing for economic pain that never came. I told folks then: listen, position yourself accordingly, and you could profit handsomely. Some did, and good for them. Others clung to the fear. Next time, I hope more people pay attention.
I’ve been consistent because the patterns are obvious once you step back from the daily noise. Iran’s provocations were real but limited; their control was illusory. The strait’s importance is undeniable, yet history—from the Tanker War’s mine-laying to Praying Mantis’s swift rebuttal—shows that determined power reopens it without endless entanglement. Speculators thrive on the uncertainty, but fundamentals win when leadership calls the bluff. Media laziness perpetuates the fear because it sells, but truth-seekers cut through it. For China and others hooked on that regional chaos, this was a wake-up call. For America, it was validation of energy dominance and strategic clarity. Prices are dropping, the economy breathes easier, and the 250th anniversary can proceed without the shadow of inflated costs. I said it from the start, and events proved it. If you listened early, you likely made some smart moves. If not, there’s always next time.
• History.com. “The Strait of Hormuz: A Timeline of Tensions.” Published March 13, 2026.
• Wikipedia. “2026 Strait of Hormuz Crisis.”
• Congressional Research Service. “Iran Conflict and the Strait of Hormuz: Impacts on Oil, Gas…” March 11, 2026.
• IMF Working Paper. “Oil Price Volatility and the Role of Speculation.” WP/14/218.
• CFTC Report. “The Role of Speculators in the Crude Oil Futures Market.”
• U.S. Navy Historical Center. “Operation Praying Mantis.”
• Reuters and Bloomberg reports on 2026 oil price movements and de-escalation.
• Additional historical analyses from National Interest and U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings on Tanker War and Praying Mantis.
• White House and energy policy releases on U.S. shale production and energy dominance, 2026.
These sources provide the factual backbone for the historical and economic details sprinkled throughout, allowing readers to dig deeper and advance their own understanding of these fluid global dynamics.
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’ve never been a fan of Amy Acton during COVID. Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her to be in charge of a milk carton, let alone the state of Ohio. What she did during COVID was disastrous. Mike DeWine can apologize all he wants—you know he picked her. She was [his health director], and the state has not recovered from her policies since then. She basically followed Dr. Fauci’s guidelines to a tee, along with the CDC.
There should have been a lot more questioning. We elect those people in part to protect us from centralized government overreach, and the CDC was way over its skis. All the challenges in court have gone against many of the violations the CDC and state officials put forth. They had no right to do what they did, either at the federal level or in the states, and in court, they largely lost. In 2020, they lost key cases.
Amy Acton locked down, listened to everything they said, and did everything they said—including masking, social distancing, the ridiculous lockdowns—all while questions swirled about gain-of-function research, which Dr. Fauci knew about, and the release from a Chinese lab. It was only supposed to be transmissible among bats, but the gain-of-function made it jump to people. There was a lot of manipulation, a lot of bad stuff with COVID-19. And it killed people. She played her role in it. She wrecked the state. She harmed people in the process. And she was horrendous in all facets. I’ll never forgive her for what she did.
But I find it ironic that she is upset at the Vivek Ramaswamy campaign, and her husband is upset because it’s all about politics—this 2019 release of the police visit to their house. She and her husband, Amy Acton and Eric, got into a fight over her working long hours. They had been drinking. She pulled a mirror off the wall and shattered the glass. Then she wanted to leave the house. He talked her out of it because she was going to drive drunk. Someone in the house called the police. Police arrived and defused the situation. And this was while she was the health director, which I don’t recall hearing at the time. I remember the news telling us what a great lady she was when she was locking down the state because they were in love with Dr. Fauci and centralized authority. She played it to a tee, and no one talked about this police report.
Now it’s out because she’s running for governor. I don’t know why—she doesn’t have a good track record on anything. And yet she seems to be the best option Democrats have. So they’re trotting her out, hoping people will like her bedside manner during COVID—very bad miscalculation on their part, the Democrat Party in Ohio. But I guess if you don’t have anything else going on, you go with the stringy-haired Grateful Dead concert-goer, which is what she reminds me of. Every time I look at her face, I think of some stringy-haired person wearing a tarp at a music festival covered in mud because she’s been strung out for days.
And when people say “that’s not fair, she’s a doctor,” well, she’s also someone who got caught in this incident involving drinking and meds. A very stable person? I’ve been married for closer to 40 years—39 years now. My wife and I have never had the police come out to our house to break up a fight. It never happened. Anybody, handling your life—if you have that kind of thing happening and you can’t handle your affairs at home and you’re that reckless where police get called—it’s on your record. You’re not qualified to be governor. You might not go to jail, but you’ve shown you definitely can’t handle yourself, your family, or your liquor.
There’s a whole lot of bad things that come out of this story, and they want to make it all about “Vivek Ramaswamy should not have told anybody—this campaign is just being mean. It’s all about politics. We’re just trying to tear her down.” She gave him ammunition. She’s the one who did it. She’s the drunk one; they had to call the police on her, and she’s the one who wanted to drive drunk while she was working for the DeWine administration—before she had some gift of leftist redemption aligned with Dr. Fauci. No wonder she was so eager to appease everything he said, lock down the state, and hope all this stuff goes away so she could repair her public image. The story didn’t get out in 2019, but now it’s out because she’s running for governor. What do you expect? It’s gonna happen.
So when I call her a reckless person, not qualified to handle things, I’m basing that on my own experience. I’ve been married a long time, and the police never had to come break up my wife and me. And if they did, I probably wouldn’t be qualified to give speeches like this. You can’t manage your life like this.
This wasn’t 30 years ago—it was 2019. She was in public office at the time, and she was going to get in a car and drive drunk. Her husband had to talk her out of it, and that’s what they admitted to after the police came. That’s the kind of person who wants to be governor of Ohio. She can’t run her family, and she certainly can’t run a state. And she’s proven a track record that she takes all her orders straight from the CDC, which came straight out of the World Health Organization and Chinese Communist policy—enacted through influences like Bill Gates money and a complicit media that wanted to sell COVID. She hooked into it and made Ohio a state that many blue states followed because of her policies. She started the initiative.
Only when the DeWine administration was sued over unconstitutional lockdowns and policies enacted by Amy Acton did Mike DeWine back off and start opening up the state. He had some losses in court to get there, and he knew he was gonna lose those cases because they were major constitutional violations. The Supreme Court had to kick in. I remember the conversations—I was on many conference calls at the time with the governor and people close to the Supreme Court case. So I know exactly what went on behind the scenes. That was a disaster. Amy Acton had major egg on her face at the end of that whole escapade. People were mad at her. They were outside her house—protesting, not bringing violence, but really mad. She had to resign in disgrace, hide, and lick her wounds.
Only six years later, she is coming back out to run for governor—as if everyone’s going to forget what she did in COVID and now this police case. When you bring it up, she wants to say maybe you’re just being political. Hey, if Vivek Ramaswamy has something in his past, people are going to bring it up. They throw everything at him—he made his money too aggressively, wasn’t always hardcore Republican, his parents are from India, born in Cincinnati. But he’s a good guy, likable, qualified. His wife is super nice. He’s a good family person. I’ve met him, talked to him lots of times—he manages his businesses, his life at home, and can be trusted to run the state of Ohio as governor. He’ll play well with the legislature and get a lot done. There’s a lot to be excited about.
Amy Acton? Not even remotely close. She can’t run down her sidewalk, let alone a state. I was joking a little when I said a milk carton. I don’t think she can run anything. She has no proven track record of running anything—only of going out sounding like a stringy-haired hippie quoting Joseph Campbell and saying we all love each other. Let’s wear a mask, stay safe, stay home, socially distance, and shut down the economy. We have to “drive down the curve.” A bunch of measurements that were completely falsified, ridiculous, hand-picked data she used every day. It was embarrassing to Mike DeWine. I always felt sorry for Jon Husted because he had to go out there as lieutenant governor and be a part of that, even though you could see it on his face. It’s something he would love to have not been a part of. But you’re in the DeWine administration, and Amy Acton was the health director listening to the CDC. Nobody knew at the time how crooked it was—although I said so. It was unconstitutional; they had no right to do it. I said so when everybody else was saying otherwise. Guess who was right in the opening hours of all those mandates? Everyone eventually caught on. The Supreme Court did exactly what I said it would do. Constitutionally, DeWine had egg on his face, and Amy Acton resigned in disgrace because everyone was ready to string her up. She ruined their lives.
And now you find out she has problems at home. She drinks, can’t hold her liquor, and had the police called on her in 2019. That’s the kind of person she is. Is it fair to judge somebody like that? You bet it is. I don’t drink, and I’m just saying—if you go out there and have problems like that and it’s not in the ancient past, that’s a lapse in judgment that shows you can’t handle your affairs. When someone’s so scared about your behavior that they call the police on you—and it’s a family member—and you’ve got problems, there’s no way David Pepper or anybody else can explain it away. She brought it on herself. She’s the one who made it all happen, and she can only blame herself.
When you’re in a hard campaign, of course, it’s gonna come out. She’s crazy to think it won’t—and I’m sure there’s more. What I’ve said about her being a complete derelict only lends more credence to my thoughts about her initially. Anybody who thinks she deserves the benefit of the doubt—there’s probably more stories. If you show lapses in judgment once, you’re probably going to do it twice. And she had a big, important office at the time and still had a lapse in judgment. She was on medication that she didn’t even know how much she had taken—and she’s supposed to be a doctor. How is she equipped to advise about anything?
Yeah, it’s a big deal. She’s not qualified again—she’s not qualified for anything. Should she be thrown in jail? She could join the club of many people who can’t manage their lives very well. But you certainly don’t elect them to run the state. You certainly don’t make them governor. She’s a disaster. As I said, the lockdown lady is a disaster of epic proportions, and this police report only chronicles part of the history that we’re ever going to find out about. But there’s a police record on it, and if your governor has one, you probably shouldn’t be voting for her. She’s a disaster.
Definitely don’t vote for her. Vote for Vivek Ramaswamy. He’s the guy, and he’s certainly the best pick, I’d say, anywhere in the country, let alone in Ohio.
8. Wikipedia. “2026 Ohio gubernatorial election.” (Overview of candidates, including Amy Acton as the Democratic nominee and Vivek Ramaswamy as the Republican frontrunner.) Accessed April 2026. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2026_Ohio_gubernatorial_election
9. The Columbus Dispatch and other outlets (various 2026 articles on the intensifying race and attacks between Ramaswamy and Acton).
Rich Hoffman 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.
As I sat there reflecting on the latest whispers from the political grapevine in Butler County, Ohio, that little birdie landed right on my shoulder with news I’d rather not have heard, yet it crystallized everything I’ve come to understand about loyalty, judgment, and what it truly takes to build and sustain a strong Republican Party in a place like this. I’ve always liked Roger Reynolds as a person—I wanted him to succeed, stood by him through that whole messy trial back in 2022 when he faced felony charges for unlawful interest in a public contract, and even now, I maintain the proceedings felt stacked against him in ways that smacked of political targeting rather than pure justice. But here we are in April 2026, just weeks away from the May 5 Republican primary for county commissioner, and the landscape has shifted in ways that force a hard look at character, party unity, and the kind of leadership Butler County desperately needs to keep thriving rather than fracturing from within. The little birdie—reliable sources close to the ground, the kind that have proven accurate time and again in local races—told me Roger and his dad have been out there helping Cindy Carpenter with her signs, pouring resources into propping up the incumbent commissioner whose track record includes campaigning for a Democrat mayor in Middletown against the party endorsement. It stung, not just because I’ve invested personal time and energy supporting Roger in the past, but because it underscores a deeper truth about political life: bad judgment in managing affairs doesn’t always land you in jail or drain your bank account with legal fees, but it sure disqualifies you from elected office when the core job is bringing people together instead of tearing the tent apart.
I’ve lived in this area most of my life, watching Hamilton and the surrounding communities evolve from the industrial heartland I knew as a kid to a place trying to reinvent itself with new energy, new ideas, and yes, new blood in leadership. That’s why I threw my support behind Michael Ryan from the very beginning of this commissioner race. He had the Republican endorsement early on—sealing it with a historic 71 percent vote from the Butler County Central Committee back in January—and he deserves every bit of it. I’ve known Michael for years now; he’s been a standout vice mayor and council member in Hamilton, a city I’ve seen struggle and then start to rebound under leaders who actually deliver results. Hamilton has always been close to my heart. I grew up around here, moved away for stretches but always came back, and I’ve witnessed firsthand how the current city council, with folks like Michael steering the ship, has tackled everything from economic development to fiscal responsibility in ways that make you optimistic about the future. Projects like the Spooky Nook Sports Complex and the attraction of major manufacturers such as the Saica Group have put Hamilton on a path to real growth, lowering property tax burdens where possible and focusing on job creation that benefits working families rather than just insiders. Michael’s in his 40s, with a long runway ahead—potentially decades of service as commissioner if voters give him the chance—and he brings fresh ideas without the baggage of decades in one seat. That’s the kind of energy Butler County needs: someone who can bridge divides, negotiate with all sides, and actually get things done instead of posturing for personal validation.
The Republican Party, at its best, isn’t some exclusive good old boys club where you’re either in or out based on who you know. It’s a big tent that demands you bring people in, even those who disagree with you at first. You don’t win by throwing stones from the sidelines or hiding in echo chambers, slandering opponents in backroom fits. You go to their houses, you debate in public forums, you argue passionately but respectfully, and you convince them through conviction and results. I’ve seen it happen over and over: candidates start as Tea Party firebrands, full of radical energy and righteous anger, only to moderate over time as life’s realities—family, business, community pressures—rock their foundations and force growth. Others drift leftward in seven years flat because the system challenges every assumption. That’s human nature, and it’s why I vote for people with firm core convictions who can still sit down across the table from skeptics and pull them into the fold. Negativity for its own sake, the constant search for reasons to say “no” without offering a path forward, builds walls and justifies personal shortcomings in negotiation. Roger knew this once; he navigated the rough waters of county politics long enough to understand that unity isn’t weakness—it’s the only way to beat back Democrats who are masters at exploiting our divisions.
That’s precisely why Cindy Carpenter’s actions have been so damaging. She lost the party’s endorsement not because of some petty grudge but because she actively campaigned for a Democrat mayor in Middletown, a community that desperately needs stronger Republican leadership to reverse its slide. Middletown has been a tough nut—plenty of good people there, but years of one-party dominance and policy missteps have left it lagging while places like Hamilton push forward. When Republicans like Cindy go rogue and back Democrats in local races, it erodes trust. Voters on the fence see infighting and stay home, handing wins to the other side. I care deeply about Middletown succeeding; I’ve watched it my whole life, and strong GOP leadership there would mean better schools, safer streets, and economic revival. Instead, her decision sent the wrong message, fracturing the party at a time when we need every seat locked down against coordinated Democrat efforts. And now, with Roger Reynolds reportedly aligning himself with her—his dad and him out placing those blue signs for Cindy—it feels like a direct thumb in the eye of the very party that stood by him through his legal battles. Nancy Nix, our county auditor and a woman I respect enormously, has been vocal in her support for Michael Ryan, as have other establishment figures, such as State Senator George Lang. They backed Ryan because of his proven track record, not out of spite. Roger, who once had friends like Nancy in his corner during his toughest times, now seems intent on playing the victim card again, attacking the party that defended him rather than rallying behind the endorsed candidate to strengthen our collective front.
Let me be clear: I defended Roger during his trial because I believed elements of it were politically motivated. He faced charges tied to decisions involving public contracts, including allegations that he influenced Lakota school district funds toward a golf academy project near his neighborhood, which could have boosted property values in ways that raised eyebrows. His legal team argued the case aggressively, and an appeals court eventually overturned the felony conviction, restoring his eligibility for office. I felt for him—prosecutors can smell vulnerability like sharks, and once they hook you, it’s a grind. But here’s the thing I’ve learned from my own experiences in contentious debates, business battles, and even personal legal skirmishes far tougher than what Roger endured: you don’t leave yourself exposed. You handle potential conflicts before they hit a lawyer’s desk. You manage your office with ironclad ethics, no chips on your shoulder that invite attacks. Roger had passion, sure, but that “Jimmy thing” and the way it unfolded showed lapses in judgment that made him a target. Smart politicians I know—people who’ve survived decades in the arena—navigate those minefields daily without indictments because they play the long game. They don’t posture for grandkids or family optics; they deliver for constituents. Roger wanted back in after the overturn, announced his candidacy in September 2025, but ultimately didn’t file petitions to run by early 2026. Instead, the little birdie says he and his dad pivoted to Carpenter’s campaign, undermining Michael Ryan and the party endorsement. That’s not reforming from within; that’s burning bridges for personal validation in what amounts to a popularity contest rather than a service mission.
I’ve been through worse myself—contentious arguments in boardrooms, lawsuits that dragged on, public scrutiny that tests your mettle—and I came out stronger because I focused on building alliances, not tearing them down. At Republican picnics and hot dog gatherings across Butler County, I’ve shared sloppy Joes and laughs with folks I disagree with on details, because we share the bigger vision: limited government, economic freedom, strong communities. You don’t feel violated when someone challenges you if your opinions are secure. Roger, Nancy Nix, and I might have had our differences, but she stood by him through everything, only to see this turn. It reveals character, or the lack of it, when someone who benefited from party loyalty now works against it. Supporting Cindy—a commissioner since 2011 whose term ends this year—sends a message that personal grudges trump county needs. Her “middle finger” incident at Level 27 Apartments, where she confronted staff over her granddaughter’s eviction with threats and outbursts, only amplified perceptions of entitlement. Add her Middletown Democrat endorsement, and it paints a picture of judgment calls that weaken us all.
Up-to-date analysis of this race, as we head into the final stretch before May 5, shows Michael Ryan as the clear frontrunner with momentum that’s hard to ignore. The Butler County Republican Party’s early endorsement, backed by heavy hitters including Auditor Nancy Nix, Treasurer Michael McNamara, and even national figures like Congressman Warren Davidson, has unified much of the base around him. Ryan’s campaign emphasizes fiscal conservatism, job growth from his Hamilton days, and the restoration of integrity after years of internal drama. Signs are popping up everywhere—volunteers hitting the roads on weekends and evenings to combat theft and vandalism, a perennial headache where opponents (and sometimes rogue elements) yank Republican yard signs. Democrats are watching our divisions with glee, ready to pounce on any seat if we self-destruct. Cindy Carpenter’s website touts conservative principles and continued service, but the lack of endorsement and past missteps have left her playing defense. Roger’s non-candidacy but reported involvement adds fuel to the fire, turning what should be a clean primary into a nasty proxy battle. Local chatter on platforms like X and community boards highlights frustration with “establishment vs. outsider” framing, but the reality is simpler: voters want competence and unity. Early polling and central committee sentiment suggest Ryan could cruise to the nomination, setting up a strong general election defense in this GOP stronghold. Yet the signs wars persist—Roger’s alleged efforts for Cindy feel like a last-ditch attempt to validate past grievances rather than contribute to wins.
Negotiate from strength, build coalitions, turn disagreements into growth. Politics mirrors business; you don’t succeed by isolating yourself or attacking friends who carried you through storms. Roger had the party’s back once; now, by aligning against the endorsed ticket, he risks becoming known for this chapter rather than redemption. Cindy deserves credit for longevity in office, but her choices—like the EMA dissolution votes or homelessness plans that require broader buy-in—show gaps where fresh leadership like Ryan’s could excel.
As signs multiply across Hamilton, Middletown, and Liberty Township, I’m reminded daily of the ground game: armies of volunteers replacing stolen placards, catching thieves in the act under cover of night. It’s grueling but necessary. Democrats don’t face the same internal sabotage; they consolidate and attack weaknesses. We can’t afford to hand them openings. I urge every Republican—Tea Party purists, moderates, newcomers—to rally behind Michael Ryan. He’s earned it through service, not entitlement. Vote for the guy who rejuvenates cities, debates openly, and unites rather than divides. The little birdie’s message hurt, but it also clarified priorities: party over person, county over ego. Butler County’s future—stronger schools, safer neighborhoods, booming economy—depends on it. I’ll keep putting out signs, knocking doors, and making the case because I’ve seen what success looks like when we work together. Let’s make this primary a statement of strength, not splintering, and remember: the tent is big enough for all who build it up.
Footnotes
¹ Butler County Board of Elections candidate petitions, February 2026 updates.
² Cincinnati Enquirer reporting on GOP central committee vote, January 10, 2026.
³ Journal-News coverage of Reynolds’ announcement and subsequent non-filing.
⁴ Public records and appeals court decisions on the 2022-2025 conviction overturn.
⁵ Ryan for Butler campaign site and endorsements listed as of April 2026.
⁶ Social media and local posts detailing the Carpenter apartment incident.
⁷ User’s own observations from decades in Butler County politics and business.
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 excitement I feel about Vivek Ramaswamy running for governor of Ohio is not some fleeting campaign cheer. It is a deep, personal conviction rooted in years of watching Ohio politics from the inside, knowing the players, and seeing what has been stalled under the current administration. When I first learned Vivek wanted to run, it felt like a natural extension of everything I have observed about effective leadership in this state. I have known some of the people working quietly in the background on his behalf, and I have seen how the legislative agenda that has been bottled up under Mike DeWine would finally break loose under someone with Vivek’s energy, vision, and willingness to align with the changes happening at the national level. I have talked with Vivek directly about these things, and every conversation reinforces my belief that he is the right person at the right time.
I have been following Ohio politics for decades, and I have seen governors come and go. Some were solid, some were centrist placeholders, and a few were outright disasters. Mike DeWine has been a steady hand in many ways, but he has also represented the old guard that plays it safe, avoids bold moves, and leaves too many good ideas on the table because they might rock the boat with the establishment. That is where Vivek Ramaswamy stands apart. He is not a career politician. He built real businesses, created jobs, and proved he can execute under pressure. I see him as the perfect fit for the governor’s mansion because he brings fresh thinking to economic expansion, regulatory reform, and the kind of pro-growth policies that Ohio desperately needs after years of incrementalism. When he is in that seat, I believe we will see a vigorous, aggressive push on everything from attracting new industry to streamlining government—things that have been talked about but never fully delivered.
The primary process right now, in the spring of 2026, is noisy, as primaries always are. You have critics throwing everything at Vivek—his Indian heritage, how he made his money, his youth. I have heard it all, and I dismiss most of it as the predictable noise that comes when someone surges to the front. I supported Donald Trump long before he announced his first run in 2015. I was with him back in 1999, when he and Pat Buchanan were battling it out in the Reform Party. I have watched this cycle repeat itself with Reagan, with Trump, and now with Vivek. People who are frontrunners always draw fire. The media loves to amplify the drama because it sells advertising. Pollsters release numbers that seem tight because they sample in ways that lean one direction or another. But I have been around long enough to know that spring polling in a primary year is not the final story. By July and August, things clarify dramatically. The peripheral candidates fade, the serious ones consolidate, and the voters who matter—the ones who show up in primaries—make their choice based on substance, not sound bites.
I have spoken with Vivek about the critics, including those questioning his background or wealth. His response was straightforward and mature: if everyone is always on your side, something is wrong. That is the mark of someone who understands leadership. You do not get rattled by the noise. You win people over with results. Vivek has shown he can do that. He has been out speaking at Lincoln dinners, fundraising events, and town halls across the state. He is articulate, energetic, and has a strong partner in his wife. Those are the qualities that translate to governing. I have watched him handle crowds, including the occasional boo from a handful of people who had too much to drink at a St. Patrick’s Day event at an Irish pub where he made an unannounced appearance. The cheers far outnumbered the jeers, and he took it in stride. That is the kind of poise Ohio needs in the governor’s office.
On the other side, the Democrats’ best option is Amy Acton. That alone tells you how weak their bench is. Acton was the face of Ohio’s COVID lockdowns, and her record is one of economic devastation and overreach. She has a one-trick pony: “I’m a doctor, I care about health.” But when you look at the results, her policies crushed businesses, schools, and families. The 2019 police incident involving her husband or a family member only adds to the picture of someone whose personal life has intersected with public scrutiny in ways that raise questions about judgment. I have followed her career closely, and every time she speaks, she reinforces why she should not be anywhere near the governor’s mansion again. Polling showing her competitiveness is skewed by sampling in heavily Democratic areas like Cuyahoga County, where the same lockdown supporters still hold on to nostalgia for her “bedside manner.” But real-world results matter more than nostalgia. Ohio cannot afford another round of that.
The horse race today looks tighter than it will be in a few months because primaries are designed to be messy. You have candidates like Casey, the car guy, and Nick Fuentes-style voices on the fringes throwing darts, trying to peel off a few percentage points by questioning Vivek’s heritage or his business success. That is standard primary theater. I remember the same thing with Trump—people saying he was too much of an outsider, too wealthy, too whatever. Reagan faced it too; he was a former Democrat who had to prove himself to the base. I have never been anything but a Republican, but I respect people who evolve toward conservatism because they see the failure of the alternative. Vivek has been a Republican from early on, and he brings conservative principles with the added advantage of being young, articulate, and unburdened by decades of insider baggage. He is not a middle-grounder. He is the kind of conservative who can actually get things done because he knows how to talk to business leaders, legislators, and everyday voters.
I have roots in this state’s politics. I have consulted with candidates, watched the legislature up close, and seen how the Senate and House work together—or fail to—under different governors. Vivek already has strong relationships there. He has been building them for years through events and direct conversations. When he wins the primary, which I fully expect, those relationships will accelerate. The legislative agenda that has been stalled will move. Economic expansion will follow because business leaders trust someone who has built companies himself. Trump’s endorsement is not just symbolic. It is practical. Trump will campaign in Ohio in 2026 the way he campaigned for president because he needs strong Republican majorities at the state level to support his national agenda. He will be on the ground with Vivek, and that combination will be unstoppable.
Critics who say Vivek does not have full Republican support are the same voices who said the same about Trump in 2015 and 2016. They are lazy analysts who read polls taken in Democrat-heavy zip codes and declare the race close. Real polling—the kind that matters—is what happens when Vivek walks into a packed Irish pub on St. Patrick’s Day, and the crowd cheers louder than the handful of boos. That is the energy that wins primaries and general elections. Casey the car guy and the fringe voices will get their 7 or 8 percent, but they will not have the resources, the organization, or the broad appeal to compete once the field narrows. Independents and traditional Republicans will consolidate behind the frontrunner who has Trump’s backing and a proven track record of execution.
I have been through enough cycles to know how this plays out. The Tea Party movement evolved into the MAGA movement because people got tired of centrists who talked conservatively but governed like the other side. Vivek represents the next step: a young, articulate conservative who is not afraid to challenge the status quo. He has the temperament to win over skeptics without compromising principles. His wife is a strong partner in the effort. Together, they project the kind of stability and vision Ohio needs after years of incremental leadership.
The contrast with Amy Acton could not be sharper. She is the lockdown lady who turned Ohio’s economy into a cautionary tale. Her policies hurt working families, small businesses, and schools in ways we are still recovering from. The idea that polling shows her even close is a function of media hype and skewed samples. When the real campaign begins, when Trump is in the state campaigning like it is 2024 all over again, and when Vivek is out there speaking directly to voters about jobs, freedom, and growth, the numbers will shift dramatically. That is how primaries work. The noise in spring gives way to clarity by summer.
I am excited because I see the potential for real change. I have talked with Vivek about the critics, about the primary grind, and about what governing Ohio would look like. He gets it. He knows leadership means winning people over, not just preaching to the choir. He has the resources, the relationships, and the resolve to deliver. When he is in the governor’s mansion, we will finally see the vigorous economic expansion that has been promised but never fully realized. The peripheral discussions—the heritage questions, the wealth attacks, the fringe candidates—will fall away quickly once the primary is over. Republicans will unify because the alternative is unacceptable.
That is why I support Vivek Ramaswamy without hesitation. I have been a Republican my entire life, rooting for the party even as a kid. I have watched outsiders like Trump and Reagan prove the skeptics wrong. Vivek fits that mold, but with the added advantage of being a conservative from the beginning. He is the clear frontrunner for good reason. The primary process is doing its job—vetting him, testing him, and ultimately strengthening him. By the time the general election arrives, the choice will be obvious to anyone paying attention. Ohio cannot afford another lockdown-era disaster. It needs leadership that builds, not restricts. Vivek Ramaswamy is that leader.
The horse race today is a theater. The real race will be decided by voters who show up, who listen to the candidates, and who remember what Ohio went through under the previous administration. I have confidence in the outcome because I have seen Vivek in action, talked with him personally, and watched the pieces fall into place. The critics will keep talking, but the results will speak louder. This is going to be a good year for Ohio, and I am excited to be part of it.
Footnotes
1. Ohio Secretary of State records and public reporting on the 2026 gubernatorial primary field, including Vivek Ramaswamy’s announcement and early polling trends as of April 2026.
2. Public statements and campaign events featuring Vivek Ramaswamy at Lincoln dinners and St. Patrick’s Day gatherings in Ohio, 2025–2026.
3. Amy Acton’s tenure as Ohio Department of Health Director during COVID-19 lockdowns, documented in state economic impact reports and legislative hearings.
4. 2019 police incident involving Amy Acton and a family member, as reported in local Ohio news outlets and public records.
5. Donald Trump’s endorsement of Vivek Ramaswamy for Ohio governor was announced in early 2026 campaign communications.
6. Historical polling data from Gallup and Rasmussen on voter ID support and election integrity measures in Ohio, 2024–2026.
7. Ohio legislative records on stalled bills under the DeWine administration, contrasted with potential reforms under a Ramaswamy governorship.
Bibliography
• Ohio Secretary of State. 2026 Gubernatorial Primary Candidate Filings and Polling Summaries.
• Ramaswamy, Vivek. Campaign speeches and public appearances, Ohio Lincoln dinners, 2025–2026.
• Acton, Amy. Ohio Department of Health records and COVID policy impact assessments, 2020–2021.
• Local news archives (Cleveland Plain Dealer, Columbus Dispatch). Coverage of the 2019 Acton family incident and the 2026 campaign developments.
• Trump, Donald. Official endorsement statements for the 2026 Ohio governor race.
• Pew Research Center and Gallup. Polling on election security and voter ID, 2024–2026.
• Ohio Legislative Service Commission. Bill status reports under DeWine administration, 2022–2026.
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 Overmanwarrior 