Tag: MAGA

Addicted to Failure: Weaponized honesty

I’ve been getting a flood of emails lately that reveal something deeper than policy disagreements. A year into President Trump’s term, with real wins stacking up, some voices in and around the Republican Party are still finding ways to peel away, to justify holding back or even undermining success. Thomas Massie and Marjorie Taylor Greene have made headlines with talk of rebellion, redefining MAGA, pushing back against the party’s direction, and even floating ideas to reshape or even overthrow elements of it.  I read these things and listen to the arguments, and my take is more psychological than purely political: some people are genuinely afraid of success. They sabotage it when it arrives. It’s a real phenomenon I’ve seen in life, in business, and now in politics.

You see it with lottery winners who blow through millions and end up broke. You see it with people who stay in debt, terrified of paying off the mortgage or buying a car outright because the stability scares them—they prefer the familiar depletion. There’s a subset of the Republican Party that seems wired the same way. They had the losing habit for so long that winning feels unnatural, even threatening. So they manufacture reasons to complain, to fracture, to hold onto the comfort of opposition. And one of the biggest excuses I see surfacing in these emails and public statements is Israel. “You’re an Israel lover,” they say. “Part of the military-industrial complex. Sellout.” As if supporting the Jewish state and its right to exist automatically disqualifies you from America First principles.

I love Israel. I say that plainly because I do. I’m obsessed with the contents of the Dead Sea Scrolls, those ancient manuscripts discovered in the caves near Qumran that have done so much to validate biblical texts.  I love the figure of the Teacher of Righteousness described in them. I love the way those scrolls illuminate concepts of justice, righteousness, and resistance to corruption in the Second Temple period. For anyone wanting the scholarly background, the prevailing view among many experts is that the scrolls were likely produced by the Essenes, a Jewish sect that withdrew from mainstream society in protest against what they saw as corruption in the Temple priesthood. 

The Essenes emerged during the turbulent Second Temple era, roughly the second century BCE onward, as one of several distinct Jewish groups navigating Hellenistic influence, Roman power, and internal religious strife. The major sects included the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes. The Sadducees were largely aristocratic, tied to the Temple rituals and priestly elite, and often more willing to accommodate external powers. They emphasized the written Torah (primarily the first five books of Moses) and rejected ideas such as the resurrection and extensive oral traditions. The Pharisees, by contrast, had broader popular support, developed the Oral Law alongside the written Torah, believed in the resurrection and angels, and focused on practical piety and interpretation applicable to daily life. They are often seen as spiritual forebears of later rabbinic Judaism. 

The Essenes stood apart, disgusted by the worldliness and compromises they perceived in Jerusalem. They formed ascetic, communal settlements—most famously at Qumran on the shores of the Dead Sea—devoted to strict purity, study, and preparation for what they believed was an impending divine intervention. They followed a different calendar, emphasized communal property, ritual baths, and a highly disciplined life. Many scholars link them directly to the production and hiding of the Dead Sea Scrolls. 

Central to their story is the Teacher of Righteousness, a mysterious yet pivotal leader raised by God, according to texts such as the Damascus Document, to guide the community “in the way of His heart” after a period of groping in the wilderness. He was likely a Zadokite priest, part of the legitimate high priestly line, who clashed with the “Wicked Priest”—often interpreted as a corrupt Temple figure during the Hasmonean period, perhaps around the second century BCE. The Teacher interpreted the prophets, revealed hidden mysteries, and called for true righteousness in opposition to a compromised establishment. The scrolls portray him as persecuted yet authoritative, with the community seeing itself as the faithful remnant preserving pure worship amid apostasy. 

This wasn’t some abstract theological debate. It was a rebellion against corruption in the name of righteousness. The Teacher of Righteousness and his followers challenged the Temple authorities who had strayed. There’s resonance here with John the Baptist and Jesus—figures who operated outside the official power structures, calling people to repentance, critiquing hypocrisy, and pointing toward a renewed covenant. Some scholars have even explored possible connections or parallels between Essene thought and early Christianity, though Jesus and John were independent voices who resonated with similar themes of justice and reform. 

The Pharisees, in the Gospel accounts, often clashed with Jesus over matters of tradition, Sabbath observance, and authority. They plotted against him alongside other factions, fearing loss of influence. The kings of Israel—David, Solomon, and others—had failed magnificently over generations, mixing greatness with moral collapse, idolatry, and injustice. The experiment of ancient Israel under the Jewish faith offers profound lessons for every culture: the tension between covenant fidelity and human frailty, the danger of institutional corruption, and the recurring need for righteous reformers.

Supporting Israel today doesn’t mean endorsing every policy or every corrupt element within any community—Jewish or otherwise. It means recognizing the shared history, the biblical roots, the strategic reality in a dangerous region, and the value of a democratic ally that, despite flaws, stands as a bulwark against worse alternatives. The Jewish people have a layered story: chosen for a purpose, yet repeatedly falling short, producing prophets and reformers who called them back. The Essenes, the Teacher of Righteousness, the early Christian movement emerging from that soil—all reflect a pattern of internal critique and pursuit of higher righteousness.

When people today weaponize criticism of Israel as a blanket attack, I see echoes of older poisons. Adolf Hitler, in prison, absorbed ideas from The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a fabricated antisemitic text circulated by anonymous authors to stoke conspiracy theories about Jewish global control. It influenced Nazi ideology profoundly, even though it was exposed as a forgery. Hitler treated it as revealing supposed “inner truths” about Jewish machinations.  In modern times, figures like Nick Fuentes or even some late-arriving voices without deep grounding in Christian theology—people who achieved sudden success in their 50s, with money, platforms, and crowds hanging on their words—sometimes torpedo their own trajectories with similar rhetoric. Tucker Carlson has faced accusations in this vein. Success brings ego, visibility, and temptation to chase edgier applause or differentiate through controversy. Fear of fully embracing victory leads to self-sabotage.

I’ve paid an extraordinary cost for my positions—millions of dollars in opportunity, professional friction, the kind of price that comes from refusing to bend to prevailing narratives in business, politics, and culture. I’ve fought corruption my whole life, from local Ohio issues to national ones. I was in the Reform Party before the Tea Party, and now MAGA, because I can’t abide the rot in establishments—whether Pharisee-like insiders clinging to power or RINO Republicans protecting their perks. If the Essenes were around today, I’d probably feel at home with their disciplined stand against compromise. That’s why I’m a MAGA Republican: it’s a rebellion for righteousness, for imposing order on chaos, for winning without apology.

My wife and I have been married 38 years. You don’t sustain that by lying to each other about the hard truths. Honesty in partnership, in teams, in politics—it builds something real.

I’m shopping my new book, The Politics of Heaven, out there to agents and readers who might not share every viewpoint. That’s how you build coalitions—you don’t just preach to the choir. You engage, you offer an entry point, you show how ancient spiritual warfare, giants, demons, divine rebellion, and population agendas connect to today’s fights. Writing it required talking to people with different lenses, inviting them into a biblical treasure hunt through history. That’s the work of conversion, of moving votes and minds toward truth, sovereignty, and America First without the self-sabotage.

The Teacher of Righteousness fought the Wicked Priest not because Yahweh’s covenant was flawed, but because its stewards had corrupted it. Jesus and John the Baptist challenged the religious and political orders of their day for the same reason—to restore righteousness, end corrupt sacrifices, and reorient toward a genuine relationship with the divine. Christianity developed a moral framework based on conduct, not just ethnic or institutional identity. The Jewish sects of the era—Pharisees as the popular teachers and interpreters, Sadducees as the Temple elite, Essenes as the separatist purists—provide a rich context for understanding these dynamics. They weren’t monolithic. They debated, split, and influenced the trajectory that led to the preservation of scripture and the birth of movements that reshaped the world. 

Studying the Dead Sea Scrolls aggressively reveals how these texts validate biblical history, illuminate the pursuit of justice, and warn against complacency. The scrolls weren’t just historical artifacts; they were a library of resistance, eschatological hope, and communal discipline preserved in the desert while empires rose and fell. Contemplating the Teacher of Righteousness—his insights into the prophets, his call to the faithful remnant—feels profoundly relevant. Societies thrive when they confront internal wickedness and pursue righteousness. They fail when fear of success or an addiction to complaint wins out.

Massie and Greene’s talk of redefining the party, overthrowing elements, or breaking away echoes historical patterns of factionalism. It’s happened before in movements that tasted power. But true MAGA, to me, is about winning and securing the wins—securing borders, economy, culture, alliances that make sense. Not perpetual opposition for its own sake. The emails I get reveal that fear: the discomfort with victory, the need to find a scapegoat like Israel to justify pulling back.

I’ve walked through local politics in Butler County, Ohio; grand jury service; aerospace executive challenges; cultural critiques from the 1970s-80s music shifts to today’s spiritual attacks on family. The pattern is consistent: forces that hate success, that prefer managed decline or chaos. My philosophy—Overman warrior, with the whip as a symbol of discipline and precision—rejects that. Impose will on circumstances. Build teams. Fight smart. Stay married, stay honest, stay armed if needed, stay rooted in biblical truth.

The Politics of Heaven dives deeper into these conspiracies of heaven, the giants, the rebellions, the lessons for our time. I share the manuscript with serious readers because ideas this big require conversation across lines. Not everyone agrees at first. That’s the point. You convert by engaging, not isolating.

People afraid of success will always find reasons—Israel, foreign policy, personality clashes—to torpedo momentum. But history, archaeology, and faith show another way. The Essenes preserved light in darkness. Reformers like the Teacher called out corruption. Jesus built on that foundation toward redemption. We can learn those lessons without hating the people or the land that birthed them. Support Israel as an ally and an idea while demanding righteousness everywhere, including our own house.

That’s my stance. It’s cost me, but it’s worth it. Success isn’t scary—it’s the goal. Winning isn’t the end of the fight; it’s the beginning of stewardship. The Republican Party, MAGA especially, should embrace that instead of f1earing it. The scrolls and the scriptures validate the path of righteousness over endless grievance. Let’s choose victory.

Footnotes

1.  On recent political commentary regarding Massie and Greene, see various news reports from 2025-2026.

2.  For lottery winners and self-sabotage psychology, common observations in behavioral economics.

3.  Dead Sea Scrolls discovery and significance: Biblical Archaeology Review archives and standard introductions. 

4.  Essenes and Qumran: Josephus, Jewish War 2.119-166; scholarly consensus in Vermes and others. 

5.  Teacher of Righteousness and Wicked Priest: Damascus Document (CD), Habakkuk Pesher (1QpHab); see Wikipedia summary and Rowley. 

6.  Jewish sects overview: Josephus, Antiquities and Jewish War. 

7.  Protocols of the Elders of Zion: Exposed forgery; see USHMM and Wikipedia. 

8.  Additional parallels and Second Temple context drawn from standard histories.

Bibliography

•  Biblical Archaeology Review (various issues, especially on Dead Sea Scrolls).

•  Flavius Josephus. The Jewish War and Jewish Antiquities.

•  García Martínez, Florentino. The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated.

•  Vermes, Geza. The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English.

•  The Protocols of the Elders of Zion (as a documented forgery; primary analyses in Segel, Levy, etc.).

•  Schiffman, Lawrence H. Works on Qumran and Second Temple Judaism.

•  Eisenman, Robert (various theories on Teacher of Righteousness).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

The Roots of Ohio’s Medicaid Fraud Scandal: Loose Policies, Political Appeasement, and Lessons from History

I sat down recently to reflect on the growing scandal surrounding Medicaid fraud in Ohio, particularly in home health care services. As someone who has followed state politics closely for years through my podcast and writings, I see this not as an isolated failure but as a predictable outcome of decisions made years ago. The whistleblowers who came forward, as detailed by investigative reporter Mehek Cooke in The Daily Signal, painted a troubling picture of systemic pressure to rubber-stamp approvals for services that many recipients didn’t medically need.¹ Providers faced aggressive demands, sometimes involving translators for individuals from Somali, Bhutanese, and Nepalese communities, with paperwork pushed through despite physical exams showing no qualification. When honest providers denied claims, they faced backlash. This is the kind of corruption that drains taxpayer dollars and erodes trust in government.

I remember when John Kasich first pushed Medicaid expansion in Ohio. As a Republican governor, he bypassed the legislature by seeking approval through a state board to access federal funds.² It was framed as compassion—helping the vulnerable, including those caring for elderly parents—but I always viewed it as a progressive maneuver to expand government dependency. Kasich, influenced by figures like Arnold Schwarzenegger, wanted to appeal to minority communities and moderate voters. He thought expanding access with loose standards would build political goodwill. Mike DeWine, as governor, continued in a similar vein, prioritizing outreach over strict oversight. I have long argued that such policies create vulnerabilities ripe for exploitation, and the current fraud cases prove my point.

The financial incentives are enormous. Ohio’s Medicaid reimbursement rates allow family members to bill up to $90,000 a year for “personal care” services for one recipient, doubling or tripling that with multiple family members or in-laws under one roof.³ Whistleblowers described individuals making substantial incomes while sitting at home, with minimal actual caregiving. Some appeared coached on what to say during evaluations. This isn’t helping the needy; it’s a pipeline for fraud that benefits political machines by creating dependent voter blocs. Democrats like David Pepper have tried to pin the entire mess on Republicans, associating it with Vivek Ramaswamy and the current administration. But I see it differently. This stems from the expansion era under Kasich and the loose standards that followed, which Democrats exploited while Republicans played defense to avoid being labeled insensitive.

I have spoken with people in Ohio politics who understand the dynamics. Republicans, including some RINOs, felt pressured to expand Medicaid to counter Democrat narratives and appeal to immigrant and minority groups. Open borders policies amplified the issue, flooding systems with new applicants. Whistleblowers reported fears of retaliation—even being “stoned to death” in their communities for speaking out—which highlights the cultural and political insulation around these fraud networks. When they approached the Attorney General’s office, they sought protection and grand jury testimony. Instead, they felt dismissed. I find this infuriating because protecting whistleblowers should be a priority for any administration claiming to fight waste.

This scandal connects to broader patterns I have observed. Government programs offering easy money invite abuse. Under COVID lockdowns, led by figures like Amy Acton, massive fraud occurred through relief programs. Now, similar vulnerabilities appear in home health care. Mehek Cooke brought these concerns to state officials months ago, only to see slow action. Independent reporting exposed what insiders tried to keep quiet. I respect those providers who refused to rubber-stamp false claims. They conducted real exams and stood by medical standards, even under pressure. That’s integrity we need more of in Ohio.

Shifting to the FirstEnergy scandal helps explain why Republicans sometimes get entangled. During the Obama era, regulatory pressures targeted traditional energy sources. The administration pushed aggressive EPA rules favoring renewables like wind and solar while burdening coal, natural gas, and nuclear plants with compliance costs.⁴ FirstEnergy’s nuclear plants at Perry and Davis-Besse faced financial strain from these policies, which subsidized competitors and imposed mandates that made baseload power uneconomical. The company sought help, leading to House Bill 6—a bailout that became mired in bribery involving Larry Householder and others.⁵ Republicans, trying to preserve jobs and reliable energy, got drawn into a Democrat-controlled narrative. Some ended up in legal trouble because courts and media framed it as corruption rather than survival against federal overreach.

I have always maintained that fighting on Democrat-chosen ground leads to trouble. Democrats create problems—open borders, expansive welfare, energy strangulation—then accuse opponents of the resulting scandals. Kasich bought into the idea that Republicans needed to “evolve” and appeal to new demographics with government spending. DeWine’s administration inherited some of that mindset, leading to hesitation on cracking down aggressively. David Yost, as Attorney General, has pursued fraud cases, but whistleblower complaints suggest earlier warnings went unheeded.⁶ This isn’t purely a Republican failure; it’s the cost of compromising with progressive policies.

Reflecting on my own experiences, I have seen how these schemes operate. Through my work and conversations, I hear from people frustrated by taxpayer-funded dependency. Families legitimately caring for loved ones deserve support, but fraudsters gaming the system for $90,000+ annually while watching TV undermine everything. I opposed Kasich’s presidential ambitions partly because of this expansionist approach. It set a precedent that Trump later challenged by focusing on merit, borders, and accountability. Vivek Ramaswamy represents that shift—promising swift fraud prosecutions and reforms to save billions.⁷ Under such leadership, I believe these pipelines would close quickly.

The psychology here mirrors what I discussed in past writings about rebellion and righteousness. Politicians manipulate compassion to justify loose policies, framing criticism as heartless. Yet true righteousness demands stewardship of public funds. Ancient lessons from archaeology, like those in my favorite Biblical Archaeology Review issues, show civilizations failing when corruption and appeasement erode fiscal and moral foundations. Ohio risks the same if we don’t reform.

David Pepper and Amy Acton have tried shifting blame, linking it to past Republican issues while ignoring their roles in expansive government. Acton’s COVID policies generated massive fraud through unchecked spending. Pepper uses it for campaign attacks. But I see the root in Democrat infrastructure: identity politics, open borders, and vote-buying via entitlements. Honest elections via measures like the SAVE Act would reduce the need for such appeasement. Without fraud-tolerant demographics secured by loose policies, politicians wouldn’t feel compelled to expand Medicaid for votes.

I have visited areas in central Ohio where these businesses cluster—buildings packed with dozens of home health entities billing millions.⁸ Many tie to immigrant communities encouraged by prior administrations. This isn’t organic care; it’s an industry built on incentives. Whistleblowers risked everything to expose it, fearing harassment. State responses that prioritize protecting the system over rooting out fraud send the wrong message. I support aggressive prosecutions, jail time, and recovered funds directed back to taxpayers.

Looking ahead, I remain hopeful. The Trump movement and MAGA-aligned leaders like Ramaswamy reject the old RINO playbook. Kasich is irrelevant now because voters saw through the compromises. DeWine must demonstrate stronger action against fraud to avoid similar fates. Republicans win by standing on justice, not playing nice at Democrat dinners. Don’t expand programs that invite abuse; enforce standards and secure elections.

Endnotes

¹ On the whistleblower allegations and systemic fraud: Mehek Cooke, “Ohio’s Medicaid Fraud Bombshell,” The Daily Signal, May 20, 2026.

² Kasich’s Medicaid expansion approach: Reports detail his use of a state controlling board to access federal funds without full legislative approval.

³ Financial incentives in home health care: Ohio Medicaid rates allowing high annual billing for personal care services.

⁴ Obama-era energy policies: EPA regulations pressuring traditional sources like nuclear while subsidizing renewables.

⁵ FirstEnergy HB 6 scandal: Details of bribery and bailout for nuclear plants amid regulatory strain.

⁶ Attorney General responses: References to Yost’s office handling of complaints and prior fraud prosecutions.

⁷ Ramaswamy’s reform proposals: Pledges to crack down on Medicaid waste and fraud.

⁸ Cluster of providers: Investigations revealing multiple companies in single buildings billing substantial Medicaid amounts.

Bibliography

•  Cooke, Mehek. “Ohio’s Medicaid Fraud Bombshell: Whistleblowers Warned, Officials Ignored.” The Daily Signal, May 20, 2026.

•  Hoffman, Rich. The Politics of Heaven.

•  Ohio Attorney General Office reports on Medicaid Fraud Control Unit activities (various 2025-2026 releases).

•  VanderKam, James, and Peter Flint. The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls. HarperCollins, 2002. (For historical parallels on righteousness and corruption.)

•  Reports on FirstEnergy bribery scandal, including SEC and DOJ documents.

•  Kasich administration records on Medicaid expansion (2013-2015).

•  Borum, Randy. “Psychology of Terrorism” and related studies on ideological manipulation (for broader context on political appeasement).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes (selected examples; full inline where applicable):

1.  Kasich Medicaid expansion details from historical reports.

2.  Ohio Auditor findings on improper payments.

3.  Minnesota DOJ charges summaries.

4.  Yost MFCU achievements.

5.  FirstEnergy scandal timeline.

Bibliography (vast selection for further reading):

•  Ohio Attorney General reports on MFCU activities.

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

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

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

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

•  Cleveland.com coverage of HB6/FirstEnergy.

•  Auditor of State, Ohio, single audit reports.

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

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

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

My friend with Dirty Shoes: Why America Thrives Through Its Wealth Builders and What Happens When Sudden Money Meets Human Nature

I have spent years observing the world around me in places like Middletown, Ohio, and reflecting on the stark differences between those who build lasting wealth and those who chase fleeting windfalls. The recent trip by President Trump to China, with a plane full of American billionaires, brought these observations into sharp focus for me. It was not just a diplomatic visit; it was a demonstration of economic strength, showcasing the very people who drive innovation, jobs, and growth. Critics on social media and in political circles often decry such figures, calling for higher taxes, wealth redistribution, and policies that would “take from the rich to give to us.” Yet, my experiences with friends, family, and neighbors who have won big at nearby casinos tell a different story—one of human nature, discipline, and the enduring value of creators over consumers. 

Trump’s journey to Beijing included leaders like Elon Musk of Tesla, Jensen Huang of Nvidia, Tim Cook of Apple, and others whose combined influence represents trillions in market value and countless jobs. China rolled out the red carpet in ways it hadn’t for previous administrations, precisely because it understands its reliance on American enterprise. China is a paper tiger, but its growth model depends heavily on foreign investment, technology transfer, and access to markets that value efficiency and scale. With a population far larger than America’s roughly 330 million, China has pursued manufacturing and infrastructure on a massive scale—jobs many in the West avoid—but it still seeks the dynamism that billionaires bring. By bringing these executives on Air Force One, Trump signaled leverage: American policy shapes opportunities, and those who generate wealth are key to expanding economies on both sides. 

This isn’t abstract theory. I know wealthy individuals personally, and their habits stand in contrast to stories I hear at the local casino. One friend, a multimillionaire in construction and development, always shows up with dirty shoes and calloused hands. He works the job sites himself and oversees projects that build condominiums in Florida, where snowbirds live comfortably for months each year, dining out nightly without worry. His wealth cascades: employees get steady pay, suppliers thrive, and retirees enjoy the fruits of his risk-taking. He doesn’t chase flashy displays; he reinvests to create more. This pattern repeats among true wealth creators. They treat money as a tool for expansion, not a ticket to indulgence. 

Contrast this with lottery and casino winners I have known. Near my home, the slots and tables draw crowds hoping for that life-changing hit. Some walk away with $15,000, $25,000, or even $100,000 checks. The stories that follow are depressingly familiar. One acquaintance won around $100,000 from insurance collections tied to a payout and quit his second job immediately. Overtime vanished. Within two years, the money disappeared—spent on cars, parties, and “trophy” living. He was back asking for help, bouncing checks, and debating between groceries and bills very soon. Another hit $15,000 on slots one weekend, celebrated by drinking and playing more, then bought big TVs and turned his basement into a “man cave” costing tens of thousands. Months later, broke again, he returned to the casino chasing the next jackpot. These aren’t isolated cases. I have seen inheritance recipients or family windfall beneficiaries do the same: quit work, lounge in front of daytime TV, blow through savings on impulse buys, and end up worse off. 

Statistics bear this out, adding sobering color. While the often-cited “70% of lottery winners go broke” figure has been debunked as originating from unverified claims at a 2001 symposium (the National Endowment for Financial Education later clarified it lacked research backing), more reliable data from the Certified Financial Planner Board of Standards indicates that nearly one-third of lottery winners eventually declare bankruptcy—higher than the general population. Many face this within 3-5 years. A MIT study on Florida lottery winners who were previously financially distressed found that winning only postponed bankruptcy rather than preventing it. Stories abound: Bud Post won $16.2 million in Pennsylvania in 1988 but was in debt within a year, hounded by family (including a murder-for-hire plot from his brother), and died nearly penniless on food stamps. Suzanne Mullins won $4.2 million in Virginia, yet lost it to loans and medical bills. Callie Rogers in the UK squandered her winnings on parties and surgery. The pattern is consumption without creation. 

Why does this happen so frequently? Psychology offers insights. Sudden wealth often meets unprepared minds shaped by scarcity thinking or addictive patterns. Without the discipline forged through years of earning and risking, money flows out faster than it came in. Social pressures mount—friends and relatives appear with hands out. Status symbols beckon: Corvettes, luxury trips, home upgrades that balloon in cost. I have watched people prioritize PlayStation subscriptions over groceries or blow windfalls on fleeting pleasures because their personalities lean toward immediate gratification rather than delayed compounding. Behavioral economists note that windfall recipients frequently exhibit higher marginal propensity to consume on non-essentials, lacking the habits of those who built wealth incrementally. 

Wealth creators operate differently. They exhibit traits such as future orientation, calculated risk-taking, and a focus on value generation. Elon Musk, for instance, pours resources into companies that push boundaries in electric vehicles, space, and AI—ventures that employ thousands and spawn entire ecosystems. CEOs, in general, create wealth for others: shareholders, employees, and communities. Studies on high-net-worth individuals show they often maintain hands-on involvement, reinvest heavily, and avoid lifestyle inflation that erodes capital. One analysis of affluent versus high-net-worth investors found the latter display confidence but channel it into ongoing projects rather than consumption. My multimillionaire friend with dirty shoes embodies this: he builds condos that house comfortable retirements, creates jobs that support families, and sustains businesses that keep local economies humming. Billionaires scale this principle globally. 

This distinction matters profoundly for policy. Socialism’s appeal—confiscating from the rich to redistribute—ignores these realities. Taking from creators to give to those with “bankrupt personalities,” as I call the chronic consumers, doesn’t produce prosperity; it funds more consumption. Parasitic tendencies, where individuals rely on government transfers or windfalls without building, lead to dependency. Casinos illustrate the microcosm: big payouts followed by returns to low-wage jobs or pleas for help. Government as the ultimate casino—promising jackpots through entitlements—breeds similar outcomes on a societal scale. Democrats and figures like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez often rail against billionaires, but history shows societies thrive with more of them, not fewer. America’s edge lies in its ability to foster creators who expand the pie rather than fight over slices. 

China’s economic story reinforces this. Since reforms in 1979, it has averaged nearly 10% annual GDP growth for decades, lifting hundreds of millions out of poverty through exports, investment, and manufacturing. Yet it remains hungry for American capital and know-how. Its model involves state direction, lower labor standards in some sectors, and a willingness to handle the “jobs we don’t want” in the U.S.—polluting industries, assembly lines, and resource extraction. With far more people, China can sustain volume, but innovation and high-value creation still draw from Western partnerships. Foreign direct investment (FDI) has been crucial; inflows reached highs amid global shifts. Trump’s delegation signaled that U.S. billionaires hold keys to further integration if terms favor American interests. China respects this leverage because its growth, while impressive, depends on external engines. U.S. GDP per capita remains far higher, reflecting productivity and the rule of law that reward creators. 

We need more millionaires and billionaires, not envy-driven policies to hobble them. More CEOs mean more opportunities cascading downward. Taxing success punitively discourages the risk-taking that built the Tesla and Apple ecosystems and construction empires. Instead, celebrate the dirty-shoes ethic: hard work, reinvestment, hands-on leadership. My observations align with broader patterns—materialists focused on status often report lower long-term satisfaction, while builders find purpose in creation. 

Expanding on the pitfalls of lotteries reveals deeper human frailties. Beyond bankruptcy stats, winners face family estrangement, depression, substance issues, and scams. One study noted neighbors of winners increase borrowing and bankruptcies due to social comparison—keeping up with sudden displays strains others. This “lottery curse” echoes in inheritances: sudden money without earned wisdom evaporates. In contrast, self-made wealth correlates with better management because it embeds lessons of scarcity, effort, and compounding. 

Consider Florida’s snowbirds again. Many live in multimillion-dollar condos, dining lavishly on seemingly endless income without daily grinds. Who enables this? Developers like my friend, whose projects multiply value. Scaled up, billionaires do the same nationally and internationally. They generate tax revenue far exceeding most—Elon Musk reportedly pays enormous sums—while funding innovations that improve lives: cheaper energy, better tech, and medical advances. Criticizing them as “greedy” overlooks their role as job creators and engines of opportunity. 

Critics pushing redistribution often overlook the destruction of incentives. If the government seizes wealth for “the people,” who becomes the new creator? Parasites—those unable or unwilling to manage resources—consume without replenishing. I have seen it locally: second-job quitters, inheritance squanderers, entitlement dependents. They form a constituency drawn to promises of free money, mirroring casino addicts chasing the next hit. America’s strength is its culture of aspiration, where anyone can climb by creating value. With only 300+ million people, we punch above our weight in GDP through productivity, not sheer numbers. Encouraging more creators expands this. 

Trump’s visit to China highlighted mutual dependence. China outpaces in raw growth metrics at times due to demographics and policy, but America’s innovation ecosystem—fueled by risk-takers—remains the gold standard. Billionaires on that plane weren’t just passengers; they represented the market access and expertise China needs. Respect shown to Trump reflected recognition of this dynamic. Previous presidents lacked the same business acumen or the same leverage to display. 

Personal reflection deepens my conviction. Knowing rich people who work relentlessly, rather than casino regulars cycling through highs and lows, convinces me that character and mindset trump circumstance. Wealthy individuals I admire avoid dumb spending; they buy assets that produce more. Consumers chase experiences or goods that depreciate instantly. This gap explains societal outcomes. Policies that reward consumption through redistribution erode the foundation that creators provide. We should aim for more dirty-shoes millionaires building empires, not vilify them.  Lottery winners buying mansions only to lose them to upkeep, or facing lawsuits from sudden “friends,” underscore isolation. One winner built a bowling alley that drained funds. Another’s family demanded shares, leading to rifts. Meanwhile, self-made billionaires like Musk endure scrutiny but persist, creating Starlink, EVs, and reusable rockets that benefit humanity. The asymmetry is clear: creators endure for legacy; windfall recipients often implode due to a lack of preparation. 

The Trump China trip with billionaires celebrated American dynamism. It showed why we need more such figures—CEOs, entrepreneurs, builders—who generate wealth that sustains societies. Lottery lessons warn against easy-money illusions. Human nature favors discipline and creation over consumption. Socialism’s confiscation appeals emotionally but fails practically by ignoring these truths. I advocate protecting and encouraging wealth creators; they make the world go around, enabling comfortable lives for millions. More billionaires mean more opportunity, innovation, and shared prosperity. America’s secret sauce is its producers. Cherish them, emulate their habits, and watch economies flourish. 

Footnotes

1.  Observations on local casino behaviors drawn from personal acquaintance over the years.

2.  Data on bankruptcy rates from CFP Board and related studies.

3.  Details on Trump’s delegation from public reports.

4.  China’s economic reliance on FDI from the World Bank and trade analyses.

5.  Psychological insights from consumer behavior research.

Bibliography

•  Certified Financial Planner Board of Standards reports on lottery winners.

•  MIT study on Florida lottery bankruptcy postponement.

•  NEFE clarification on 70% statistic.

•  CRS Report on China’s Economic Rise.

•  Various Forbes, USA Today, and academic papers on wealth psychology and FDI.

•  Public news on Trump’s China visit (PBS, Fox, etc.).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

The Torture of Tina Peters: Finally getting out of jail, what her story says about authority

I have long observed how power, when unchecked, resorts to the rack—not always the physical one of medieval dungeons, but the metaphorical equivalent that breaks spirits, careers, and truths until confessions align with institutional narratives. The recent case of Tina Peters, the former Mesa County Clerk in Colorado, stands as a stark modern exemplar of this ancient pattern. A seventy-year-old woman thrust into one of the most dangerous environments imaginable for someone of her age and background, she faced years of imprisonment not primarily for some violent crime, but for daring to question the machinery of an election and seeking to preserve evidence amid widespread suspicions of irregularities in 2020. Her eventual release, commuted by Governor Jared Polis under significant pressure from President Trump, came only after what many perceive as a coerced softening of her stance—a letter or statement that effectively extracted a measure of contrition to grease the wheels of her freedom. 

This bothers me deeply, not merely as an isolated legal matter, but as a symptom of a deeper rot in how societies, whether monarchies of old or democratic republics today, enforce conformity. I have explored this in my writings, particularly in The Politics of Heaven, where an entire chapter delves into the wives of Henry VIII. Why devote so much space to Tudor England? Because it illustrates precisely what happens when authority feels threatened: it tortures, it extracts, it publicly humiliates until the victim recants or perishes. Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, and others navigated a court where one misstep, one perceived challenge to the king’s narrative of divine right and control, led to scaffolds and swords. Henry’s break with Rome and the Protestant stirrings required confessions of loyalty, often under duress, to maintain the facade of unified power. Collective belief—enforced by the state and church—sought to transform royal will into unassailable truth, much as today’s liberal establishments insist that sheer repetition and institutional pressure can transmute falsehoods into accepted realities. 

Consider William Wallace, that Scottish patriot whose brutal end in 1305 remains etched in collective memory. Dragged through London streets, hanged until nearly dead, then disemboweled while alive, his entrails burned before him, and finally quartered—all while conscious for much of the ordeal. This was no mere punishment for rebellion; it was a spectacle designed to extract submission from a defiant soul and deter others. English authorities needed Wallace not just defeated, but broken in narrative: a traitor whose cause was illegitimate. His screams, if he uttered any, were meant to affirm the crown’s supremacy. I think often of this when reflecting on modern “punishments” that are less bloody but equally soul-crushing: financial ruin, social ostracism, professional blocklisting, or literal incarceration for those who challenge sacred cows like election outcomes or gender ideologies. 

Peters’ ordeal mirrors these historical precedents with eerie precision. As Mesa County Clerk, she allowed access to voting equipment in 2021 during a period of intense scrutiny following the 2020 presidential election. Her intent, by all accounts from her perspective and supporters, was transparency and preservation of data that might reveal anomalies—chain-of-custody issues, unauthorized access, or software vulnerabilities. Critics, including the Colorado Secretary of State’s office, framed it as a breach that cost the county nearly a million dollars in new equipment and undermined trust. She was convicted on multiple counts, including attempts to influence public servants and official misconduct, receiving a nine-year sentence that many viewed as extraordinarily harsh for a first-time, non-violent offender. 

What strikes me as particularly insidious is the environment she endured. At her age, placed in a facility where vulnerability invites predation, reports and her own expressed fears painted a picture of genuine physical danger. This was no country-club detention; it was a pressure cooker designed, intentionally or not, to break resolve. The demand for a statement upon commutation—softening her previous assertions about fraud—echoes the rack of old. Throughout history, authorities have preferred the illusion of voluntary confession. “I was wrong,” “I made a mistake,” “I apologize for questioning”—these words, extracted under the shadow of continued suffering, serve to validate the system’s narrative. It is the same dynamic seen in corporate America, where leverage (debt, HR complaints, performance reviews) forces employees to affirm policies they privately doubt: DEI mandates, vaccine requirements during COVID, or silence on biological realities in sports and spaces. 

During the pandemic, we witnessed this on a mass scale. “Take the jab or lose your job.” “Believe the science as defined by us, or face exclusion.” Massive institutional pressure infused collective belief into contested propositions—efficacy claims, transmission narratives, origin stories—turning skepticism into heresy. Those who resisted often faced metaphorical drawing and quartering: lost livelihoods, family divisions, reputational destruction. Similarly, on transgender issues, the insistence that belief alone alters biological sex allows men in women’s sports or prisons, not through evidence, but through enforced social consensus. Dissenters risk cancellation, much as Peters risked (and endured) imprisonment for questioning election “integrity” as defined by those in power. This is not new; it is the eternal temptation of power to weaponize belief against observable reality. 

I see parallels in the Protestant Reformation’s violent undercurrents, which I detailed extensively because they reveal how challenges to authority provoke the extraction of loyalty oaths. Henry VIII’s dissolution of monasteries and execution of dissenters required public affirmations of the new order. Thomas More, a man of principle, met the axe rather than falsely swear the Oath of Supremacy. Others, less steadfast, confessed under torture to save themselves, only to erode the moral fabric. The rack, the Tower, Smithfield burnings—these tools did not create truth; they manufactured compliance. In Peters’ case, the “confession” element, however subtle, serves the same purpose: it allows the system to claim vindication while quietly releasing the prisoner to avoid greater scandal or political cost. President Trump’s active role in the background—public calls, threats of federal repercussions—highlights how counter-pressure from the executive can sometimes check state-level overreach, but it does not erase the initial injustice. 

Corporate culture today replicates this with chilling efficiency. Leveraged buyouts, activist investors, or HR departments place executives and employees “on the rack” through performance improvement plans, diversity audits, or public shaming until they affirm the prevailing orthodoxy. Whistleblowers on financial fraud, safety issues, or cultural excesses face the same extraction: settlements with nondisclosure agreements that function as forced recantations. Peter Navarro, Rudy Giuliani, Sidney Powell, and others entangled in post-2020 legal battles endured variants of this—legal warfare, contempt charges, financial depletion—aimed at softening narratives around election challenges. The goal remains consistent: to make the lie (or the contested claim) into truth by compelling public submission. 

This dynamic produces a less ethical society. When truth becomes subordinate to power—whether royal, bureaucratic, corporate, or partisan—individuals learn to compromise. They choose livelihood over conviction, freedom over integrity. Over generations, this breeds cynicism, apathy, and a populace ripe for further manipulation. I have argued that America’s founding emphasized consent of the governed and individual rights precisely to counter such tyrannies. Yet here we are, six years on from 2020, with mounting questions about mail-in expansions, drop boxes, observer restrictions, and statistical anomalies that Peters and others sought to illuminate. Even if one disputes the scale of fraud sufficient to alter outcomes, the suppression of inquiry itself damages trust. Jailing a clerk for preserving data she was duty-bound to protect sends a chilling message: do not look too closely. 

History offers abundant further examples. The Inquisition’s use of the strappado or water torture extracted recantations from heretics, reinforcing doctrinal “truth” through pain. Soviet show trials featured broken defendants confessing to absurd crimes against the state. Maoist struggle sessions in China humiliated intellectuals until they denounced their own thoughts. In each case, the powerful believed—or claimed to believe—that collective enforcement could reshape reality. Modern liberalism’s variant substitutes social media mobs, lawfare, and regulatory punishment for physical racks, but the intent persists: punish until compliance. Transgender ideology, climate catastrophism, or election sanctity become articles of faith, with heretics like Peters paying the price. 

Her visibility exacerbated Peters’ situation. A grandmotherly figure thrust into the national spotlight as an “election denier,” she became a symbol. Supporters viewed her as a hero preserving constitutional integrity; detractors as a threat to democratic norms. The reality, as I see it, lies in the asymmetry: rules written to favor opacity (limited audits, proprietary software, partisan officials) create the very distrust they then punish. When a Secretary of State’s office allows or overlooks access issues while aggressively prosecuting those seeking sunlight, it reeks of selective enforcement. Her observer in the process, the turned-off cameras, the data images surfacing—these were not random malice but responses to perceived vulnerabilities. 

The governor’s decision to commute, framing the sentence as “extremely unusual and lengthy” for nonviolent offenses, acknowledges some excess, yet the underlying convictions stand. Pressure from the highest levels, including funding threats, likely tipped the scales, preventing blood on hands if something dire befell Peters in custody. This pragmatic release does not restore her reputation fully or address the broader pattern. It reveals power’s calculus: extract enough submission to save face, then move on. 

I reflect on these matters because they touch the American way: truth, justice, and the right to question without fear of ruin. A society that jails grandmothers for forensic curiosity while shielding institutional actors from scrutiny drifts toward the authoritarianism I chronicled in Tudor times. Free will erodes when choices reduce to “confess or suffer.” During COVID, countless professionals mouthed platitudes they doubted to retain mortgages and retirements. In boardrooms, executives greenlight policies they know are performative. In elections, officials certify amid doubts to avoid the Peters treatment. This produces hollow compliance, not genuine consent.

Expanding on Reformation violence: the executions under Mary I (“Bloody Mary”) and Elizabeth I show both Catholic and Protestant sides wielded the scaffold. Yet the principle endures—authority demands narrative control. Henry’s wives navigated lethal intrigue because succession and religion were intertwined with power. Challenge the king’s version, and you faced the block. Today, challenge the certified result or biological binary, and face analogous consequences, scaled to modernity.

Corporate buyout artists, as I noted, extract through economic racks: golden handcuffs, NDAs, and severance tied to silence. Employees sign away their right to speak the truth post-departure. This mirrors plea deals, where defendants admit guilt to receive lighter sentences, regardless of their inner convictions. Peters’ path appears to have involved such a bargain: statement for parole eligibility by June 2026. 

Ultimately, this erodes the Republic. When collective belief supplants evidence—whether on fraud, gender, or public health—we sacrifice the Enlightenment foundations that gave birth to America. Peters was right to question; time and further audits have only amplified legitimate concerns about 2020 processes. Her punishment served to deter others, not illuminate the truth. The shame lies not in her actions, but in a system that prefers darkness and extracted confessions over open inquiry.

This pattern repeats because human nature craves control. Power fears exposure. From Wallace’s screams to Peters’ cell, the lesson is clear: resist the rack, preserve integrity, even at great cost. Only then does society inch toward genuine justice rather than enforced illusion. My observations over the years, across politics, culture, and history, convince me that without vigilance against such extractions, we trade freedom for comfortable lies. The age of disclosure demands that we reject this, honoring those like Peters who, against immense pressure, tried to uphold honest processes. 

Footnotes

1.  Details drawn from contemporary reporting on Peters’ commutation, May 2026.

2.  Historical accounts of Wallace’s execution, 1305.

3.  Tudor court records and biographies of Henry VIII’s consorts.

4.  Analyses of COVID policy enforcement and corporate compliance mechanisms.

5.  Reformation historiography on oaths and martyrdoms.

Bibliography

•  The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Alison Weir.

•  William Wallace: Braveheart historical biographies.

•  Colorado court documents, People v. Peters, 2024-2026.

•  Various news archives on 2020 election integrity debates (Heritage Foundation, state audits).

•  The Politics of Heaven (forthcoming) for extended historical parallels.

•  Primary sources on the Inquisition and the Reformation tortures.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

Ohio’s Unfinished Economic Reckoning: How Amy Acton’s Lockdowns Created the High-Price Reality Democrats Are Trying to Now Blame on Trump and Vivek Ramaswamy—but the guilt is completely on Lockdown Democrats

In the spring of 2026, Ohio voters are being told a familiar story by the Democratic ticket led by the stringy-haired Amy Acton. High grocery bills, elevated gas prices, stubborn supply-chain bottlenecks, and the everyday squeeze felt by working families and small manufacturers are, according to Acton’s campaign and its surrogates—Mark Elias, David Pepper, and the usual Democratic spokespeople—the direct result of Trump-era policies and the supposed continuation of that agenda under Vivek Ramaswamy. The irony is staggering. The very architect of Ohio’s most disruptive government intervention in modern history—the woman who, as Director of the Ohio Department of Health in 2020, signed the stay-at-home orders that shuttered schools, closed non-essential businesses, and upended millions of lives—is now positioning herself as the solution to the very economic pain her policies created. 

This is not partisan rhetoric. It is a matter of documented cause and effect, visible every day in Ohio’s factories, restaurants, construction sites, and family budgets. The high prices we live with in 2026 are not primarily the fault of tariffs, speculation, or any single administration in Washington. They are the long shadow of a forced economic shock imposed in 2020 by a centralized government decree—one in which Amy Acton played a central role, coordinating with federal health authorities, the CDC, the World Health Organization, and, ultimately, with policies shaped by information flowing from China. The damage was not abstract. It was immediate, structural, and enduring. And while headline statistics have been massaged to suggest recovery, the real economy—especially for midsize manufacturers, small businesses, and working families—never returned to its pre-2019 equilibrium.

To understand why Acton’s record matters now, we must revisit what actually happened in Ohio in the spring of 2020. On March 22, 2020, Acton issued a stay-at-home order effective at 11:59 p.m. that night. Non-essential businesses were closed. Schools shuttered. Gatherings were limited. The order, later extended by Governor Mike DeWine, was not a suggestion; it carried the force of law. Within weeks, Ohio’s unemployment rate exploded from roughly 4.5 percent pre-pandemic to a peak of 16.4 percent in April 2020—the highest level in modern state history. More than 2.1 million unemployment claims were filed that year alone, compared to just 360,000 in all of 2019. Entire sectors—manufacturing, hospitality, transportation, professional services—were suddenly and forcibly interrupted. 

This was not a natural recession triggered by market conditions. Ohio’s economy in early 2020 was not overheating. It was not over-leveraged. It was functioning normally until the government decree flipped the switch. The result was a structural break in continuity that no amount of federal stimulus could fully repair. Over 341,000 non-farm jobs disappeared in a single year—a decline of more than 6 percent. Manufacturing, the backbone of Ohio’s economy, absorbed a particularly brutal blow, losing roughly 480,000 jobs at the height of the crisis. Supply chains that had taken decades to optimize were severed overnight. Relationships between suppliers, customers, and workers were shattered. Skills atrophied. Experience was lost.

Federal relief money flowed in—Ohio ultimately received billions through the CARES Act and subsequent packages, with more than $10 billion in direct grant funding allocated early on and additional ARPA dollars later. That money stabilized household consumption and prevented total collapse on paper. It propped up demand. But it did not rebuild labor pools, restore broken supplier networks, or reverse the loss of institutional knowledge. GDP figures eventually rebounded. On the surface, Ohio appeared to recover. Yet for thousands of private, midsize, and industrial firms—the companies that form the real productive core of the state—the recovery never materialized in the way that matters most. Revenue stabilized in some cases, but labor did not return evenly. Supply chains remained fragile six years later. Many businesses entered a new, permanently altered economic reality from which they have yet to exit. 

Look at the numbers that actually matter on the ground. Manufacturing employment has clawed back toward pre-pandemic levels in headline counts—hovering near 680,000 statewide by late 2025 and into 2026—but the composition is different. Output rose in aggregate, yet headcount remained flat or declined in many subsectors. Productivity gains came not from rebuilding capacity but from automation, consolidation, and doing more with fewer people. Smaller suppliers absorbed shocks they could not pass along. Material inflation, labor shortages, and customer concentration became permanent features. A 2025 survey of Ohio manufacturers found that around 40 percent still cited material costs as a major concern, with tariffs and other factors playing secondary roles. Speculators and opportunistic pricing certainly contributed to some price spikes—gasoline being the most visible example—but the underlying fragility traces directly back to the 2020 rupture. 

Even more telling is the labor force participation rate. Ohio’s rate dropped sharply in 2020 and has never fully recovered. As of March 2026, it stands at approximately 62.1 percent—still roughly 1.3 percentage points below 2019 levels. That gap represents tens of thousands of missing workers. Many retired early. Others shifted to disability. Skilled trades lost experienced hands who never re-entered. The pandemic accelerated trends already underway—remote work, changing employer expectations—but the government-mandated shutdown turned those trends into a structural labor shortage. Employers now pay significantly higher wages without corresponding productivity gains. Chronic hiring difficulties persist. Small and midsize businesses, lacking the scale of large corporations, took the brunt of this hit. 

The human and business-level consequences are visible in every corner of the state. Fast-food restaurants that once operated with long lines and reliable staffing still struggle with chronic understaffing. Supply chains that used to move with just-in-time efficiency now carry permanent buffers, higher costs, and longer lead times. Contracts signed in 2018 or 2019 based on pre-pandemic pricing realities cannot be easily renegotiated in 2024 or 2025 when everything from labor to materials has inflated. Large buyers—Walmart, major distributors, big manufacturers—hold suppliers to those old terms while their own costs have risen. Many smaller firms plateaued at lower output, higher risk, and reduced resilience. Nearly half of the Ohio businesses operating in 2019 were no longer active by 2024. New formations occurred, as they often do after crises, but stimulus checks or reconfigured statistics cannot replace the permanent loss of experience, relationships, and localized capacity. 

This was not mismanagement or an isolated failure. It was a structured shock imposed by the government, and in Ohio, by Amy Acton directly.  The recovery that followed was real on paper but redistributive in practice. Large firms with access to capital, automation, equity markets, and policy cushions emerged stronger. Smaller private companies absorbed transition costs without the same protections. Stimulus prioritized consumption over reconstruction of upstream production capacity. The result is an economy that looks healthier in aggregate GDP and unemployment figures but feels fundamentally different—and more fragile—for the businesses and workers who actually produce goods and services.

Compounding the damage were subsequent policy choices, including repeated minimum-wage adjustments tied to CPI and other labor-market interventions. While intended to help workers, these hikes acted as an artificial price floor that businesses—especially those already reeling from supply-chain disruption—had to absorb by raising consumer prices. In an environment where labor shortages already drove up wages, the added pressure from mandated increases translated directly into higher menu prices, higher retail costs, and thinner margins for the very firms least able to absorb them. Democrats often frame these as acts of compassion, but the economic reality is that they function as another layer of costs passed on to consumers in an economy still recovering from the original government-imposed rupture.

Contrast this track record with the alternative represented by Vivek Ramaswamy. As an entrepreneur who built real companies and created substantial value, Ramaswamy understands from firsthand experience what it takes to navigate supply chains, labor markets, capital allocation, and regulatory hurdles. His platform—aggressive tax cuts (including phasing down the state income tax and meaningful property tax relief), energy independence through expanded natural gas and streamlined permitting, and a laser focus on reducing the regulatory burden—addresses the structural issues that Acton’s policies left behind. Where Democrats offer more stimulus, more government employment, and more wealth redistribution, Ramaswamy offers the conditions for genuine private-sector expansion: lower taxes so families and businesses keep more of what they earn, reduced uncertainty so investment can return, and policies that reward production rather than consumption propped up by printed money. 

The political inversion is almost Orwellian. The same network of Democratic operatives—Mark Elias, David Pepper, and their allies—who have spent years litigating, regulating, and centralizing power now seek to pin the enduring consequences of their own policy choices on the very people who warned against them. They want voters to forget that Acton was the public face of the orders that closed Ohio’s economy. They want voters to ignore the long-term scarring visible in labor participation, small-business survival rates, and fragile supply chains. And they want to portray Vivek Ramaswamy—an outsider who built a billion-dollar value through innovation and discipline—as somehow responsible for prices that trace directly to decisions made in 2020 under Democratic-influenced health policy.

This is not ancient history. The effects are measurable today. Manufacturing survived the shock but did not return to its prior equilibrium. Labor-force participation remains depressed. Supply chains are still adapting. Smaller firms operate with lower resilience. High prices at the grocery store, the gas pump, and the restaurant counter are not mysterious. They are the predictable outcome of a forced shutdown followed by stimulus that prioritized short-term consumption over long-term productive capacity. Government did not merely interrupt Ohio’s economy in 2020—it rewired it. And for many companies, especially private midsize and industrial firms, the 2020 era has never truly ended.

Ohioans deserve better than political amnesia. They deserve leaders who understand that real economic vitality comes from production, not redistribution; from predictable policy, not repeated government shocks; and from accountability, not blame-shifting. Amy Acton’s record as Health Director is not a footnote—it is the central chapter in the story of why so many Ohio families and businesses are still paying the price six years later. Vivek Ramaswamy’s background as a value-creating entrepreneur offers the clearest alternative: a governor who will cut taxes, slash red tape, expand energy production, and restore the conditions under which Ohio businesses and workers can thrive again.

The choice in 2026 is not abstract. It is between continuing the politics that created the problem and embracing the policies that can finally heal the damage. Ohio’s real economy—its factories, its family businesses, its working men and women—has waited long enough for that reckoning.  But when we have to talk about who is responsible for all the misery we are still feeling, there is only one person to blame, and that is Amy Acton, the Lockdown Lady. 

Footnotes

1.  Ohio Department of Job and Family Services, Employment Situation Indicators, various monthly releases 2020–2026.

2.  Bureau of Labor Statistics and Ohio JFS data on unemployment claims and rates, April 2020 peak.

3.  Contemporary reporting on Acton’s stay-at-home order, March 22, 2020 (Ohio Department of Health).

4.  Federal COVID-19 grant funding allocations to Ohio, CARES Act, and subsequent packages (approximately $10 billion+ in early grants).

5.  Ohio manufacturing employment and labor force participation trends, Ohio LMI and FRED data through March 2026.

6.  NFIB and small-business survival analyses post-2020.

7.  Surveys of Ohio manufacturers on material costs and supply-chain issues, 2025.

8.  Vivek Ramaswamy campaign platform materials on tax relief, energy, and regulatory reform.

9.  Additional sourcing from Policy Matters Ohio, the Cleveland Fed, and contemporaneous economic analyses of pandemic impacts.

Bibliography

•  Ohio Department of Job and Family Services. Employment Situation Indicators (monthly releases, 2019–2026).

•  U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Labor force, employment, and unemployment data for Ohio.

•  Acton, Amy. Director’s Stay-at-Home Order, Ohio Department of Health, March 22, 2020.

•  Federal COVID relief tracking reports (CARES Act, ARPA allocations to Ohio).

•  NFIB Ohio Small Business Economic Trends reports.

•  Cleveland Federal Reserve District data briefs on supply-chain disruptions.

•  Ramaswamy for the Ohio campaign platform documents.

•  Contemporary news coverage from AP, Signal Ohio, and Ohio LMI publications.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

The 2026 Ohio Gubernatorial Race: Vivek Ramaswamy’s Commanding Position Against Amy Acton’s COVID Legacy and the Democrat Playbook 

As the dust settles on Ohio’s May 5, 2026, primary election, the stage is set for one of the most consequential gubernatorial contests in the state’s recent history. Biotech entrepreneur and Trump-endorsed Republican Vivek Ramaswamy emerged as the overwhelming GOP nominee, crushing fringe challenger Casey Putsch with approximately 82.5% of the vote (673,902 votes to Putsch’s 143,257). Ramaswamy swept every single county in Ohio, a remarkable show of unity across urban, suburban, and rural areas. On the Democratic side, former Ohio Department of Health Director Dr. Amy Acton secured the nomination unopposed, garnering around 742,000–760,000 votes in a low-energy primary. Overall voter turnout reached about 22.6% of registered voters, a modest uptick from recent midterm cycles. 

This matchup pits a dynamic, pro-growth outsider in Ramaswamy—backed by President Donald Trump and positioning Ohio as the nation’s top economic powerhouse—against Acton, whose public profile remains indelibly tied to the state’s aggressive COVID-19 response. As one conservative commentator noted in a recent podcast monologue, the race is far from the neck-and-neck horse race portrayed in some polling and media narratives. While recent surveys show a tight contest (with some giving Acton a slight edge or Ramaswamy a narrow lead), the ground game, Trump’s coattails, independent-voter outreach, and Acton’s historical liabilities suggest that Ramaswamy enters the general election with a structural advantage that could widen significantly by November 3, 2026. 

To fully appreciate this contest, we must delve into the candidates’ backgrounds, the primary results and their implications, the lingering economic scars from the pandemic era, comparative policy outcomes in neighboring states, and the broader political currents reshaping Ohio. This analysis expands on grassroots conservative perspectives—while incorporating verifiable data on turnout, economic metrics, investment challenges, and campaign tactics. Far from a replay of “yesteryear” Democrat strategies, this race highlights how progressive governance models have faltered in a post-Trump political landscape.

Candidate Profiles: Contrasting Visions for Ohio’s Future

Vivek Ramaswamy, a Cincinnati native and biotech billionaire, represents a fresh face in Ohio politics despite his national profile from the 2024 Republican presidential primary. Born to Indian immigrant parents, Ramaswamy built a successful pharmaceutical company (Roivant Sciences) before pivoting to public service. His Trump endorsement came early and emphatically, framing him as a “young, strong, and smart” leader committed to meritocracy, deregulation, and economic revival. Ramaswamy’s campaign emphasizes making Ohio the “#1 state” through pro-business policies, workforce upskilling, and attracting high-tech investment in sectors like semiconductors and biotechnology. He campaigns on the “high road,” avoiding personal attacks while highlighting policy contrasts. Critics from the far-right fringes—such as Putsch, dubbed the “car guy” for his automotive-themed online persona—have leveled baseless claims about Ramaswamy’s heritage or loyalty, echoing outdated nativist arguments. Ramaswamy has dismissed these as irrelevant, noting his personal integrity and fair play: his running mate, Ohio Senate President Rob McColley, bolsters legislative experience. 

In stark contrast stands Dr. Amy Acton, a physician from Youngstown with a compelling personal story of overcoming hardship in a steel mill family. She rose through public health ranks to become Ohio’s Health Director in 2019 under Republican Gov. Mike DeWine. Acton’s national visibility peaked during the early COVID-19 crisis, when she joined DeWine for daily briefings and advocated strict mitigation measures. These included Ohio’s first-in-the-nation school closures, stay-at-home orders (issued March 22, 2020), business shutdowns, and even the postponement of the state’s presidential primary. Supporters praised her as a calming, data-driven voice who “flattened the curve” and protected hospitals. However, detractors—including many business owners, parents, and conservatives—blame her policies for devastating economic and educational fallout, from mental health crises among youth to prolonged business closures. Acton resigned in June 2020 amid personal threats and protests, later serving briefly as a health advisor before entering the private sector and academia. Her 2026 campaign, with running mate and former Democratic Party chair David Pepper, focuses on “power back to the people,” affordability, and a critique of “billionaires and special interests.” Yet her record remains a focal point of Republican attacks, with Ramaswamy labeling her tenure an “abandonment of responsibility.” 

Acton’s campaign has leaned on traditional Democratic infrastructure, including legal support from figures like election attorney Mark Elias, who has been linked to aggressive tactics such as cease-and-desist letters targeting critics. Pepper, a vocal strategist, has served as an attack dog, pushing narratives that question Ramaswamy’s Ohio investment record or allege personal scandals (e.g., unsubstantiated claims of extramarital affairs, which can easily be dismissed as fabrications). These echo “yesteryear” playbook moves but risk backfiring in an era of heightened voter skepticism toward centralized government overreach. 

Primary Season: A Landslide for Ramaswamy, Unopposed for Acton

The May 5 primaries crystallized Republican enthusiasm. Ramaswamy’s 82.5% victory margin—far exceeding pre-primary polls showing him at 50-76%—demonstrated broad consolidation. He won 60-90%+ in nearly every county, from Democratic-leaning urban centers to deep-red rural areas, per county-by-county maps. Putsch, representing a self-described “radical right” element with fringe ideas (e.g., racial primacy in voting or extreme nativism), captured only 17.5% and never posed a serious threat. GOP insiders viewed him as illegitimate, akin to past primary spoilers. This sweep signals unified party backing, contrasting with historical GOP infighting (e.g., the 2016 Trump vs. Cruz/Rubio dynamics, in which critics eventually coalesced post-nomination). 

Acton’s uncontested path yielded solid but unremarkable Democratic turnout. Overall, the low primary participation (22.6%) underscores that the real battle begins now, targeting the 2-3% of independents and soft partisans who decide the general election. Ramaswamy’s primary dominance positions him to inherit the full Republican machinery, amplified by Trump’s upcoming Ohio appearances. 

The Economic Reckoning: COVID Policies, Recovery, and Investment Challenges

Central to the race is Acton’s COVID legacy and its economic toll. Ohio’s early lockdowns contributed to sharp job losses—hundreds of thousands in spring 2020—with uneven recovery. While statewide GDP rebounded (Ohio’s 2023 GDP was around $884 billion, according to BEA data), sectors such as hospitality, retail, and education lagged. Critics argue Acton’s orders exacerbated long-term damage: prolonged school closures harmed student outcomes, and business restrictions drove some enterprises to relocate. Ramaswamy has tied this to Ohio’s failure to recover fully, positioning his administration to reverse it through deregulation and investment incentives. 

Ohio’s business climate has improved—ranked No. 7 nationally and No. 1 in the Midwest in the 2026 Chief Executive CEO survey—but faces headwinds. The high-profile Intel semiconductor plant in New Albany (announced in 2022 with up to $20-100 billion promised) exemplifies stalled momentum: construction delays pushed first production from 2025/2026 to 2030-2031, with Intel investing $5+ billion by early 2026 but citing market and financial caution. Opponents blame pandemic-era policies and regulatory uncertainty; supporters note national chip shortages and the federal CHIPS Act. Regardless, such delays highlight the risk of capital flight if Ohio appears unstable. 

Comparisons to neighboring states underscore the stakes. Indiana, a right-to-work state since 2012, has often outperformed Ohio in manufacturing retention and unemployment (recently ~3.3% vs. Ohio’s ~4.1-4.2%). Studies on right-to-work show mixed but generally positive effects on job growth in competitive sectors. Michigan (post-right-to-work repeal) and Pennsylvania (swing state with union influence) have seen volatile recoveries, with Michigan’s auto sector still grappling with post-COVID supply chains. Kentucky, under GOP leadership but with its own challenges (e.g., successor dynamics under former Gov. Beshear), attracts some investment but lags in high-tech draws. Ohio, lacking right-to-work status despite past attempts (e.g., failed 2011 SB5), relies on tax incentives and workforce development—but Acton’s era amplified perceptions of anti-business hostility. Post-pandemic GDP growth has been comparable across the region (Ohio ~2.1% in recent years), yet Ohio’s unemployment edged higher in some BLS snapshots, and narratives of a business exodus persist. Ramaswamy’s platform—aligning with a potential Trump administration—promises to lure dollars from Indiana, Michigan, and beyond by emphasizing economic viability over lockdowns. 

Unions add another layer. Traditionally Democratic strongholds (teachers, public sector) have shifted toward Trump-era populism on trade and energy. Acton’s ties to labor risk alienating moderates if framed as favoring centralized mandates over job creation. Ramaswamy’s pro-worker, anti-regulation stance could peel independents.

Campaign Tactics, Polling Realities, and Broader Ohio Politics

Recent polls paint a competitive picture—RCP averages near even, with outliers like an early-2026 Emerson showing Acton +1 and Bowling Green/YouGov favoring Ramaswamy slightly. Yet intuition will hold: horse-race media and ad buyers inflate closeness for engagement. Ramaswamy’s primary sweep, Trump rallies, and Acton’s baggage (framed as “COVID queen” by the GOP) suggest momentum. Early attacks—scandals, investment critiques—have already been deployed, leaving Democrats vulnerable to “October surprise” fatigue. Elias-style legal maneuvers and Pepper’s opposition research risk overreach, mirroring past Democratic missteps in red-leaning Ohio. 

Ohio’s political map favors Republicans in gubernatorial races—no Democrat has won since 2006. Trump carried the state handily in 2016, 2020, and 2024. Ramaswamy inherits this, plus Senate and House majorities for swift policy wins. Acton represents a “propped-up Biden figure”: big government, unions, and progressive holdouts hoping to stall MAGA momentum. But as unions court Trump and independents prioritize pocketbooks, her path narrows.

Outlook: Boots on the Ground and a Call to Action

The general election will hinge on turnout and independents. Ramaswamy’s personal appeal—honest, non-combative—contrasts with Acton’s defensive posture. As the monologue urges, do not take victory for granted: vote in November, rally behind the nominee. With Trump stumping and economic contrasts sharpening, Ramaswamy could pull away decisively. Ohio’s recovery from pandemic policies, Intel’s fate, and regional competition will define the narrative.

In sum, this race transcends personalities. It tests whether Ohio embraces pro-growth conservatism or reverts to centralized experimentation. Data favors the former; history and momentum reinforce it. As voters weigh track records, Ramaswamy’s vision aligns with a thriving Ohio, while Acton’s invites scrutiny of past costs. The coming months promise clarity—and opportunity, along with a lot of political drama.  Amy Acton will have a hard time surviving the intensity that is headed her way.

Footnotes

1.  AP projections and primary results, May 2026.

2.  Ramaswamy’s victory speech and Acton’s coverage of the criticism.

3.  BLS unemployment data (Feb/Mar 2026 snapshots).

4.  BEA GDP by state reports.

5.  Chief Executive 2026 Best States for Business survey.

6.  Ballotpedia and NYT poll aggregates.

(Additional citations drawn from campaign filings, historical COVID orders via Ohio Dept. of Health archives, and economic impact studies.)

Bibliography (Selected for Further Reading)

•  Associated Press. “Ohio Primary Election Results 2026.” May 6, 2026.

•  Ballotpedia. “2026 Ohio Gubernatorial Election.”

•  Bureau of Labor Statistics. “State Employment and Unemployment Summary.” 2026 releases.

•  Bureau of Economic Analysis. “GDP by State.” Annual updates through 2025/2026.

•  Chief Executive Magazine. “Best & Worst States for Business 2026.” April 2026.

•  NBC News / 10TV. Primary results coverage, May 2026.

•  New York Times. “Ohio Governor Election Polls 2026.”

•  Ohio Secretary of State. Official primary turnout and county results.

•  RealClearPolling. “2026 Ohio Governor: Ramaswamy vs. Acton.”

•  Various: CNN, Dispatch, Signal Ohio reporting on candidates and Intel project (2025-2026).

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

Comey’s Reputation Has Washed Away Like His Sea Shells: Its time for high tide, and to prosecute those who are dangerous in the world

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

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

Taxes Have Consequences: A Century of Mistakes, Human Nature, and the Path Forward

I’ve been catching a lot of heat lately for talking about socialism on my podcast, but honestly, I don’t see why it should be controversial at all. The pushback tells me everything I need to know: a whole lot of people have built their entire lives around government paychecks, public-sector benefits, and the steady drip of tax revenue that keeps the whole machine humming. They get defensive because the conversation about taxes hits too close to home. When you point out that the income tax proposal of 1913 was a colossal mistake—one that’s strangled growth, rewarded bureaucrats, and penalized the very risk-takers who drive real prosperity—you’re not just debating policy. You’re challenging the foundation of how they pay their mortgages and fund their retirements. And the data, especially from that outstanding book Taxes Have Consequences: An Income Tax History of the United States by Arthur B. Laffer, Brian Domitrovic, and Jeanne Cairns Sinquefield, backs me up every step of the way. 

Let me take you back to 1913. That single year changed everything. The 16th Amendment was ratified on February 3, giving Congress the power to lay and collect taxes on incomes “from whatever source derived, without apportionment among the several States.” Just months later, the Revenue Act of 1913 imposed a 1 percent tax on incomes above $3,000 (about $90,000 in today’s dollars) with a top rate of 7 percent on incomes over $500,000. It affected maybe 1 to 3 percent of the population at first, and early revenue was tiny—only about $28 million in 1914.  At the same time, the Federal Reserve Act was signed on December 23, creating a centralized banking system that promised stability but, in my view, locked in the same progressive-era thinking that favored administrative control over free markets. Both moves came during the Wilson administration, a time when socialist ideas were swirling globally, and centralized power looked like the future to some. Tariffs and excise taxes had kept federal revenue under 3 percent of GDP before 1913; after the amendment, the door was wide open. By the post-war era, federal receipts stabilized around 17-18 percent of GDP, no matter how high the rates climbed—a pattern economists call Hauser’s Law.  The pie didn’t grow faster just because the government took a bigger slice; people and capital adjusted.

What Taxes Have Consequences lays out so clearly—and what a century of statistics confirms—is that the top marginal income tax rate has been the single biggest determinant of economic fate, tax revenue from the wealthy, and even outcomes for lower earners. The authors divide the income-tax era into five periods of tax cuts and explosive growth and four periods of high rates and stagnation. When rates were slashed—as in the 1920s under Treasury Secretary Andrew Mellon (top rate down to 25 percent), the 1960s Kennedy cuts, the 1980s Reagan revolution, the 1990s, and briefly under President Trump’s 2017 reforms—the economy roared. Investment flooded in, jobs multiplied, and the rich actually paid a larger share of total revenue because the tax base expanded dramatically. In the 1920s, for example, real GDP nearly doubled, unemployment plummeted, and revenues from the top brackets rose even as rates fell. The same pattern repeated in the 1980s: top rates dropped from 70 percent to 28 percent, the top 1 percent’s share of income taxes climbed from about 25 percent to over 37 percent by the late 1990s, and real per-capita GDP growth accelerated. 

Contrast that with the high-rate eras. The late 1910s, the 1930s, the 1940s-1950s, and especially the 1970s saw top rates reach 77 percent during World War I, 94 percent during World War II, and remain north of 90 percent for decades afterward. The book makes a compelling case that the 1932 tax hikes—pushing the top rate to 63 percent amid the Depression—actually deepened the crisis. Revenue from the rich collapsed, investment dried up, and the economy stayed mired until wartime spending and later rate reductions kicked in. During the 1970s stagflation, 70 percent-plus top rates coincided with sluggish growth, high unemployment, and inflation that hammered everyone, especially the working class. Lower earners suffered precisely because the rich weren’t investing or expanding businesses when the government was confiscating the upside. The Laffer Curve isn’t a theory; it’s observable history. Push rates too high, and you cross into the prohibitive range, where behavior changes: less work, less risk, more avoidance, and ultimately, less revenue. 

I’ve seen this play out in real time with people I talk to. Just the other day, I was explaining basic economics to some younger folks who were upset they weren’t making enough money. Their lifestyles told the story—video games, complaints, minimal effort. I told them straight: this is a free country. You have twenty-four hours every day. If you’re only pulling in $20,000 a year, maximize the hours. Get a second job, learn a skill, take a risk. Once you get a little capital, that engine starts turning faster. Money makes money, but you have to earn the first bit through productive behavior. The progressive tax system we’ve had since 1913 punishes exactly that ambition. Why grind harder if the government is going to take 37 percent—or more when you add state taxes—just because you succeeded? The book spends chapters on this psychological reality: high earners respond to incentives. They hire lawyers, accountants, and lobbyists. They structure investments to minimize liability. They move. And who can blame them?

Look at the migration numbers today. IRS data from 2022-2023 shows high-tax states hemorrhaging wealth and people. California lost $11.9 billion in adjusted gross income from net out-migration; New York lost $9.9 billion; Illinois lost $6 billion. Meanwhile, no-income-tax states cleaned up: Florida gained $20.6 billion in AGI, Texas $5.5 billion, South Carolina and North Carolina billions more. High earners—those making $200,000 and up—drove most of the shift. Florida’s net gain came disproportionately from wealthy movers, whose average incomes were far higher than those of those leaving. This isn’t random; it’s rational human behavior. People vote with their feet when the “fair share” rhetoric turns into confiscation. The same dynamic happened after California and New York jacked up top rates: businesses and talent fled to Texas and Florida, starving the high-tax states of the very revenue they claimed the rich owed them. 

And don’t get me started on the people who lecture us about “fair share” while enriching themselves in public office. Nancy Pelosi comes to mind immediately. She entered Congress in 1987 with a few hundred thousand in stocks; today her family’s net worth is estimated at north of $280 million, with massive gains from timely trades in tech and other sectors while she sat on committees with insider knowledge. Critics have hammered her for years over this, yet no charges stick because the rules somehow allow it. The rest of us pay accountants to navigate a tax code thicker than a phone book while members of Congress trade on information the public doesn’t have. That’s not wealth creation through risk and ingenuity; that’s parasitic behavior enabled by the very system that claims to soak the rich. The book details how, throughout history, the wealthy have found ways around punitive rates—through capital flight, tax shelters, and reduced effort. Congress critters have a faster, easier on-ramp. 

This brings me to the real heart of the problem: the administrative state and the public-sector workforce that depends on confiscated wealth. I was in Washington, D.C., recently, and the parking garages told the story better than any chart. At 8 a.m., they’re packed—government workers streaming in. By noon? Empty. Half-day culture, cushy benefits, pay scales that often run 20-25 percent above comparable private-sector jobs when you factor in pensions and job security. Federal data show the pay gap persists; total compensation for many federal roles exceeds that of private-sector equivalents, especially at mid- to senior levels. Meanwhile, private-sector risk-takers—the ones who actually grow the economy—get penalized. We’re not funding productive infrastructure or national defense with all this revenue; we’re propping up a class of paper-pushers who enjoy lives the average taxpayer can only dream of. Democrats love to create these jobs and fund them with “progressive” taxes, then act shocked when the rich use every legal tool to protect what they’ve earned. It’s human nature. People who work hard, innovate, and build don’t willingly hand over the fruits of their labor to subsidize easy government gigs. The 1913 experiment assumed otherwise, and a century of data proves it wrong. 

The book hammers this point with statistical precision. When top rates are low, the rich bring capital out of hiding, invest it, hire workers, and expand the tax base. When rates are high, they shelter, defer, or produce less. The result? Less overall growth, which hurts everyone. Real per-capita GDP growth averaged around 2 percent across eras, but the booms under low-rate policies lifted lower incomes far more effectively. Poverty fell faster, wages rose, and government actually collected more from the top 1 percent—not because of higher rates, but because of a bigger, more dynamic economy. In 2022, the top 1 percent (incomes above roughly $663,000) earned about 21 percent of income but paid 40 percent of all federal income taxes—an effective rate around 26 percent after deductions. That share has risen over the decades as rates have come down and growth has accelerated. The progressive myth that “the rich get richer and everyone else suffers” ignores how the system actually works. Once you have capital, you can leverage it—but you earned that first pile by outworking and out-risking everyone else. Penalizing success doesn’t create fairness; it creates stagnation. 

President Trump understood this during his first term, and especially in the interregnum before his second term. His tax policies—cutting corporate rates, lowering individual brackets, doubling the standard deduction—aligned with everything we’ve learned since 1913. The 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act delivered exactly the results Taxes Have Consequences predicts: strong GDP growth, record-low unemployment (especially for minorities and low-wage workers), and higher revenue from the top brackets. The rich got richer in absolute terms, but so did everyone else, and the government’s slice of the larger pie increased. That’s the opposite of the socialist collective model, which assumes we can perpetually extract from producers to fund a utopia. Centralized banking and progressive taxation were sold as stabilizers, but they became tools for an administrative state that grows regardless of economic reality. The Federal Reserve’s money creation, paired with endless deficit spending, has only amplified the damage—debt now exceeds GDP, and interest payments alone rival major budget items.

I’m not saying there should be no taxes. A consumption-based system—sales taxes on what people actually use, transaction fees tied to real economic activity—would align incentives far better. Fund highways and services through the people who use them. Let growth compound without the drag of income confiscation. The book shows that broad-based, low-rate systems maximize revenue while minimizing distortion. We’ve tried the Marxist-inspired “from each according to ability, to each according to need” approach for over a century, and it has delivered exactly what human psychology predicts: avoidance, resentment, and slower progress. Younger generations especially need to hear this. Stop waiting for the system to hand you enough; the system was never designed to reward complaints or video-game marathons. Get out there, create value, take risks. The engine only accelerates once you’re in motion.

The backlash I get for saying these things proves the point. People whose livelihoods depend on the status quo—government employees, public-sector unions, politicians who promise “free stuff” funded by someone else’s ingenuity—don’t want the conversation. But facts don’t care about feelings. We have a century of statistics now. The 1913 experiment failed. It fed a monster of debt, bureaucracy, and distorted incentives that neither party has fully dismantled. President Trump’s approach pointed the way forward, and the next decade must be about rethinking the entire process. Repeal or radically simplify the income tax. Reconsider the Federal Reserve’s role in enabling endless spending. Align policy with human nature: reward risk, protect what people earn, and stop pretending government workers deserve 30 percent more compensation for half-day effort while the private sector carries the load.

This isn’t some fringe, scandalous idea. It’s an observable reality documented in Taxes Have Consequences across hundreds of pages of data, charts, and historical analysis. The rich don’t pay their “fair share” under high rates because they’re not stupid—they adjust. The economy doesn’t grow when ambition is taxed into oblivion. And society doesn’t thrive when we build it on the backs of parasites who show up at 8 a.m. and vanish by lunch, all paid for by confiscated wealth. At their core, human beings do not want to slave away so others can live easily. That truth has never changed, and no amount of political spin or election-year rhetoric can repeal it.

As we head into the 2030s, the discussion will only intensify. People are done subsidizing inefficiency. The genie is out of the bottle. If you’ve followed my work, you know I’ve been saying this for years. Subscribe to my blog and business updates—I think you’ll love the deeper dives into these ideas and practical ways to protect and grow what you earn in a world that still rewards the ambitious. The progressive tax experiment of 1913 was a gamble based on flawed psychology and socialist dreams. A century later, we have the receipts. It’s time to learn the lesson and move on.

Footnotes

1.  Laffer, Arthur B., Domitrovic, Brian, and Sinquefield, Jeanne Cairns. Taxes Have Consequences: An Income Tax History of the United States. Post Hill Press, 2022.

2.  U.S. National Archives. “16th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.”

3.  Revenue Act of 1913 historical summaries, IRS and congressional records.

4.  Federal Reserve Act of 1913 documentation.

5.  FRED Economic Data, Federal Receipts as Percent of GDP (historical series).

6.  Tax Foundation and IRS Statistics of Income reports on top 1% tax contributions.

7.  IRS migration data 2022-2023, state AGI flows.

8.  Congressional financial disclosures and OpenSecrets analyses on member wealth.

9.  Bureau of Labor Statistics and Federal Salary Council reports on public vs. private compensation.

10.  Laffer Center summaries and book excerpts on specific historical periods.

Bibliography

•  Laffer, Arthur B., et al. Taxes Have Consequences. Post Hill Press, 2022.

•  U.S. Internal Revenue Service. Statistics of Income historical reports (1913-present).

•  Tax Foundation. Various reports on historical tax rates, migration, and economic growth.

•  Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis (FRED). Federal Receipts as % of GDP.

•  Congressional Budget Office and Tax Policy Center data on effective tax rates and income shares.

•  OpenSecrets.org and Quiver Quantitative congressional wealth tracking.

•  Bureau of Economic Analysis and BLS employment and payroll data.

This essay reflects exactly what I’ve been saying and living: free markets, personal responsibility, and an honest look at a century of bad policy. The evidence is overwhelming. Now it’s time to act on it.

Rich Hoffman

More about me

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

About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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

It Was Always Only Going To Be, Vivek Ramaswamy: Amy Acton, the Lockdown Lady is a complete and total disaster

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

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About the Author: Rich Hoffman

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

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

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