NASCAR’s Danica Patrick Blasts ‘Dishonest’ Harris Campaign Ad Showing Wives Deceiving Husbands

Former NASCAR driver Danica Patrick publicly criticized a campaign advertisement for Vice President Kamala Harris, asserting that it “encourages lying” among female voters during an interview on Thursday with Fox News host Laura Ingraham.

The pair discussed the 30-second ad released by Vote Common Good and voiced by actress Julia Roberts, which shows a husband and wife interacting before she goes to the poll to vote. The wife then locks eyes with another woman, and as each of them give a ‘knowing’ look, they both mark their ballots for Harris as Roberts intones: “In the one place in America where women still have a right to choose, you can vote any way you want. Remember, what happens in the booth stays in the booth.”

Afterward, the woman’s husband asks, “Did you do the right thing, honey?” She replies, “I sure did!”

Ingraham argued that its message is encouraging women to lie to their partners.

“Alright, Democrats have a really cool new strategy to win over women. When it comes to time to vote, lie to your husbands and your boyfriends,” she said. “Someone actually got paid to write that script for Julia Roberts. Is it any wonder that male voters can’t stand Kamala with messaging like this?

“That men are somehow bullying or threatening the women in their lives who vote for Kamala Harris? Now, I don’t get offended by much anymore. I’ve been in Washington for too long, but that even offends me,” Ingraham said before bringing in Patrick.

“You know, obviously, that’s about lying,” she said. “On the other side, JD Vance said something beautiful. He said, ‘You shouldn’t be losing close relationships with people based on who you vote for and this election.’ So, I think that, really, if this is the truth about how you feel, and that you can’t tell your significant other about how you voted, it might reflect a little bit more on the depth of your relationship, because this is a core value.

“Voting is a core value that really builds relationships. And I think it’s really disappointing that they’re encouraging lying,” the former pro racecar driver added.

Later in the segment, Patrick, who mentioned that she voted for Trump, acknowledged that women may be less inclined to vote for the former U.S. President because of his character. But she qualified that by noting that he wrongly gets a great deal of negative attention, mostly from the media.

“The women vote is definitely something that’s very important, and I know that women can be very triggered by Donald Trump’s personality to some degree,” she said. “But I also think that the propaganda and the fake news that has come out time and time again about him has painted a bad picture. And I think it really leads to the fact that we as Americans, as human beings, need to think for ourselves, do our own research, and realize that so many of these things are just not true.”

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Meanwhile, as Democrats push the issue of abortion, which is now left to the individual states following the U.S. Supreme Court’s 2022 decision to overturn Roe v. Wade, most Americans are concerned about their pocketbooks and financial prospects following years of inflation under the Biden-Harris regime.

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To that point, the number of new jobs in the U.S. slowed down in October, with companies creating far fewer than experts had expected.

On Friday, the Labor Department said that businesses added only 12,000 jobs in October, which is far fewer than the 113,000 jobs that economists thought would be added.

In August, job creation decreased by 81,000, from a gain of 159,000 to 78,000, and in September, it decreased by 31,000, from a gain of 254,000 to 223,000.

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My Grandfather Died, — When I Opened His Hidden Attic, I Learned He Had Lied to Me My Whole Life ===== After my grandfather’s funeral, a letter appeared on my doorstep. Inside was a small key and a note from Grandpa, saying it would unlock a hidden compartment in the attic. What I found there revealed a truth he had hidden from me my entire life. My name is Sloane. I’m twenty-seven years old, and a few weeks ago, I buried the only family I ever had — my grandfather, Edgar. He raised me from the time I was two. My parents were killed in a car accident, and I grew up knowing them only through a handful of photographs he kept tucked away in a drawer. The one that stayed with me the most showed my mother holding me on her hip while my father stood beside her, one arm resting lightly on her shoulder. Those photos were all I had of them, and Grandpa made sure they never felt like distant ghosts hanging over my childhood. He took me in and raised me in his small house on the edge of town — a modest place with peeling paint, a lemon tree in the backyard, and a porch swing that creaked louder than the cicadas on summer nights. But it was home, and with him, I never once felt abandoned. Every morning, he made me breakfast and insisted on packing my lunch himself, always slipping a handwritten note inside. He held my tiny hand as he walked me to preschool, stopping every few steps so I could point out rocks and flowers as if they were priceless treasures, and every night he read to me until I fell asleep. It wasn’t easy — I understand that now — but Grandpa made sure I never saw how much he struggled. He worked whatever jobs he could until he turned seventy: handyman, grocery stocker, bus driver, anything that kept the lights on and my backpack full. I didn’t understand those sacrifices back then. I only knew that whenever I needed something, he somehow made it appear. He gave me love, safety, and a life filled with warmth. Grandpa filled every corner of my world. I never once suspected he was hiding something that would eventually turn my entire life upside down. When he died, my world collapsed. But the real shock came the very next day. I was inside the house, sorting Grandpa’s belongings into boxes, when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it and froze — there was no one there, just a small sealed envelope resting on the doorstep. Written across the front in careful handwriting were the words: For my granddaughter, Sloane. Grandpa was gone, so how could he have sent me a letter? Of course, he hadn’t — not directly. It must have been delivered by the courier handling his estate. They had warned me that some final documents might arrive over the next few days. I just never expected anything like this. Realizing it was something Grandpa wanted me to receive after his death, I grabbed the envelope and opened it immediately. Inside was a letter — and a small brass key I had never seen before, old-fashioned and worn, the kind that looked like it belonged to a jewelry box or a locked diary. I unfolded the letter, and what I read sent a chill straight through me. My dear Sloane, This key opens my secret compartment hidden beneath the rug in the attic. There you will find the truth I have kept from you your entire life. Please forgive me — I had no other choice. The truth? What truth? I looked up toward the ceiling, suddenly aware that Grandpa had hidden something above my head all these years, waiting until now for me to uncover it. I rushed upstairs, my footsteps echoing along the narrow staircase. The attic air was thick with dust, carrying the sharp smell of old cardboard and mothballs. I’d been up there countless times as a child, playing hide-and-seek and digging through boxes of holiday decorations, but now the space felt tense, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. In the corner, exactly where it had always been, lay the old Persian rug Grandpa never moved. It was faded and worn, its patterns once looking like magic carpets to my five-year-old imagination. I pulled it aside, and there, cut neatly into the floorboards, was a small compartment sealed with a brass lock. I slid the key into place. It turned with a loud, final click. When I lifted the wooden lid, my breath caught. I had expected old photographs or childhood keepsakes — maybe letters from my mother that Grandpa had hidden for reasons I could only guess at. Instead, I found a stack of legal folders, thick and worn, stamped with dates going back more than twenty years. My hands shook as I opened the top one, and that was when I uncovered the first lie Grandpa had ever told me. Inside were my parents’ divorce papers. They had been filed months before the accident. Grandpa had never mentioned a divorce. I had always believed my parents were happily married right up until the day they died, but the truth…Relevant Comments Option to All Comments.

My name is Sloane, I am twenty seven years old, and I recently buried my grandfather Edgar who raised me. I always believed both of my parents passed away in…

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