To some, he's a blustering blowhard, an easy target for mocking. To others, he's a courageous crusader, gathering believers along the way. Those who know him best say he tends to act on impulse rather than following a plan. Lindell says he has premonitions, or 'whispers from God.' But his election-fraud campaign has mystified friends, worried some MyPillow workers and led at least one director to quit his company's board. The company suing Lindell, Dominion Voting Systems, portrays his criticism of voting machines as the extension of a strategy begun years ago to lift MyPillow's sales by aligning it on one side of America's culture war. Lindell calls his fight an effort to preserve the integrity of voting, describing it as another 'divine appointment.' He says he can't go back to just being a businessman. 'That ship has sailed,' he said.įor years he has called himself an 'open book,' and since 2019 has pointed to his actual book - called 'What Are The Odds?' - where he describes overcoming drugs, gambling and other personal upheaval. 'He talks in his book about how he was always striving for acceptance,' said Jim Furlong, a longtime friend who is president of MyPillow.

What greater validation is there than that?' 'He was accepted by the most powerful man in the world. In more than seven hours of interviews with the Star Tribune since Lindell began his election-fraud campaign four months ago, he never wavered in his certainty. And he almost always maintained the affable intensity of his commercials.

Lindell says he has spent more than $3 million trying to sell that idea, some of it to sponsor postelection protests that culminated in the deadly Jan. Lindell sat nearby that day at a rally where Trump delivered a speech largely seen as inciting the mob. About a week later, he returned to the White House with what he claimed was new evidence of election hacking. That evidence, and his notes suggesting martial law, gained no traction.

Mike lindell martial law