Attack Ads: Don’t Let a Billionaire Think for Georgia

Attack Ads: Don’t Let a Billionaire Think for Georgia 

“If You Hear It 20 Times Before Breakfast, It Ain’t News.”

It’s Saturday morning, March 21, 2026, and I’ve had the local TV news running while I work. Somewhere between the weather and the “coming up next” teaser, I realized I’d lost count of how many commercials I’d heard telling me how awful Burt Jones is.

Same dramatic tone. Same urgent music. Same nervous energy like the state of Georgia is balancing on the edge of a butter knife.

And it brought back a memory a lot of folks haven’t forgotten: the endless wave of anti-Trump commercials and coverage before the presidential election. You couldn’t watch a ballgame, the evening news, or a channel you didn’t even mean to click on without somebody trying to scare you into “the correct opinion.”

That’s not information. That’s programming.

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“Repeat the Lie Long Enough and Folks Start Calling It ‘Rumor.’”

Political advertising has a simple trick: say a thing over and over until it feels familiar—then folks start treating “familiar” like it must be true.

The ads don’t always have to prove much. They just have to plant a suspicion. They can imply. They can nudge. They can cherry-pick. They can leave out the parts that don’t fit the story.

And here’s why it works: most hardworking people don’t have time to stop and research every claim between flipping laundry and cooking supper. Attack ads bank on that. They slide in when you’re tired and distracted.

That’s why discernment matters. Because repetition can make nonsense sound like “common knowledge.”

“If He’s Buying Ads Like Candy, He’s Trying to Buy You, Too.”

I’m growing more and more wary of this Rick Jackson person spending what sounds like millions trying to steer Georgia voters with a remote control.

Maybe it’s just my blue-collar instincts talking, but I don’t trust any billionaire who believes the best way to “help” the people is to flood the airwaves with smear ads.

That’s not servant leadership. That’s domination.

When somebody has enough money to shout over everybody else, they can create a world where their version of the story becomes the only one you hear. And if they can buy enough airtime, they can make you feel like you’re the odd one for not believing it.

But Georgians don’t need a billionaire nanny. We need truth, context, and the freedom to make up our own minds.

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“Context Is What Attack Ads Fear Most.”

Some of what I’ve heard hinted at convenience stores, gaming, and COAMs—the kind of topic that’s easy to make sound scandalous if you skip the details.

Here’s the grown-up reality: Georgia has around 2,000 licensed COAM locations, and businesses must hold the proper Georgia Lottery Corporation license to operate legally.

And Jones Petroleum—by their own public history—is a family-owned business with a long footprint in Georgia and around 50 locations across the state.

If someone wants to debate policy—regulation, licensing, enforcement—great. Let’s do it. But attack commercials aren’t built for honest debate. They’re built to leave you with a bad taste and a vague “something ain’t right” feeling… without doing the hard work of proving wrongdoing.

A commercial can imply anything. Context is the part they try to keep you from looking at.

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“Same Playbook, Different Target.”

This style of campaigning feels familiar because it is familiar: pick a target, drown the airwaves, shape the narrative, and count on media repetition to do the rest.

It’s the same kind of strategy we’ve seen from Democrat-aligned machines and modern socialist-minded messaging campaigns: create a villain, stir fear, pressure the public, and label any questions as “dangerous.”

But asking questions isn’t dangerous. It’s American.

And if the message is true, it can survive scrutiny. If it falls apart when you ask for receipts, then it was never about truth—it was about control.

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“Georgia: Don’t Outsource Your Thinking.”

If a commercial makes you angry, pause. Anger is how they bypass your discernment.

If a commercial uses implication instead of proof, be skeptical.

And if one wealthy person is spending millions to ruin one target, ask yourself: what are they afraid you’ll figure out on your own?

I’ve got more faith in Georgia than that. Conservatives around here have seen enough to know the difference between a hard truth and a polished smear. We aren’t perfect, but we’re not helpless either—and we sure aren’t for sale.

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“Don’t Let Paid Fear Steal Your Peace.”

And here’s where I’ll land this plane, because this is bigger than politics—it’s about the health of our hearts.

Before you repeat something you heard in a commercial, pray. Ask God for wisdom, not heat. Ask for discernment, not drama. Ask Him to guard your mouth from becoming a weapon and your mind from becoming a billboard.

Scripture teaches us to be “quick to hear, slow to speak,” and Lord knows that’s good advice in election season. Let’s be people who seek truth, love our neighbors, and refuse to let paid propaganda turn fellow Georgians into enemies. If a message can’t survive honest questions, it isn’t truth—it’s marketing.

So take a breath, Georgia. Pray for our leaders, pray for our state, and don’t let any billionaire—left, right, or sideways—rent space in your soul.

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