The mainstream press is, yet again, fundamentally misunderstanding the American voter. For the past week, political observers and left-wing editorial boards have been breathlessly circulating photos of Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton pressing the flesh on the campaign trail. Their grievance is not his policy record, nor his ongoing legal battles, but rather the heavy, glittering, obscenely expensive piece of Swiss engineering fastened to his left wrist.
According to these self-appointed ethics monitors, a politician wearing a timepiece valued somewhere in the neighborhood of one hundred thousand dollars is bad optics. They argue that flashing a luxury complication while asking for the votes of ranchers, oilfield roughnecks, and diner waitresses reveals a profound disconnect with the common man. They insist it alienates the very base he relies upon to maintain his grip on the state's legal apparatus.
I could not disagree more forcefully. If we truly care about the working class, we should be begging every elected official in this country to wear a six-figure watch to every single town hall.
Let's be honest, the most insulting thing a politician can do to a blue-collar worker is pretend to be one. We have all suffered through the indignity of election season, watching men who possess generational wealth suddenly emerge from their gated communities wearing stiff, freshly purchased flannel shirts from Tractor Supply. We have seen them roll up their sleeves to expose wrists adorned with thirty-dollar Timex digital watches, as if a plastic strap somehow proves they understand the price of milk.
It is patronizing. It is a cynical, focus-grouped lie. When a man whose net worth is entirely tied up in shell companies and dark-money PACs puts on a Casio, he is looking the American voter in the eye and treating them like an idiot.
Ken Paxton, to his immense credit, respects the voters of Texas far too much to lie to them about his access to unexplainable capital.
By striding into a barbecue joint in Midland wearing a timepiece that costs more than the restaurant itself, Paxton is engaging in radical, unprecedented transparency. He is not hiding his success in an offshore trust or a blind portfolio. He is strapping it directly to his radial artery for everyone to see. He is telling the voter exactly who he is, exactly what circles he moves in, and exactly how lucrative it can be to serve the public interest.
I was discussing this very phenomenon last week at a closed-door meeting in Dallas with several energy executives who are intimately familiar with the burdens of immense wealth. Over a four-hundred-dollar bone-in ribeye, one of the state's top political bundlers explained to me that the left fundamentally misunderstands the psychology of the conservative base.
The working class does not want to elect a man who is struggling to make payments on a Honda Civic. They want a winner. They want a man who has conquered the system so thoroughly that he can afford a watch forged from proprietary rose-gold alloys and sapphire crystal. When a mechanic in Lubbock sees that watch catching the harsh Texas sun, he does not feel envy. He feels secure, knowing his Attorney General has the personal liquidity to fend off whatever the federal government throws at him.
And we must remember exactly what Ken Paxton has been fighting. This is a man who recently survived a grueling impeachment trial led by his own party, fighting off sustained accusations of bribery and abuse of office. He was acquitted on all articles. Do you know what kind of toll that takes on a man's schedule?
When you are staring down the barrel of endless federal probes and internal state investigations, you cannot rely on the battery life of a smartwatch. You need the kinetic movement of a mastercraft caliber, hand-assembled by a blind monk in Geneva. A cheap quartz movement loses fractions of a second over time. Ken Paxton does not have fractions of a second to lose when ensuring he is never late for another court appearance.
The voters want to know their top law enforcement officer is successful enough to afford the finer things in life, regardless of whether his official state salary can mathematically explain those things.
Montgomery is entirely correct. Contrast Paxton's refreshing honesty with the behavior of the coastal elites. A liberal politician will wear an Apple Watch and pretend they are just tracking their daily steps like a regular citizen. It is a disgusting ploy. They want you to think they are concerned with cardiovascular health, when in reality they are just checking their notifications to see if a tech billionaire has returned their text.
Ken Paxton is not tracking his steps. He does not care about his resting heart rate. He is tracking the passage of time through an intricate tourbillon complication, because gravity affects the movement of a balance wheel much like the gravity of a politicized Department of Justice affects the rule of law. It is a deeply philosophical choice of jewelry.
I, for one, am exhausted by the endless apologizing for success in this country. Just last month, I wore my own modest Vacheron Constantin to a diner in rural Ohio to talk to real Americans about the ballooning federal deficit. Did they resent my success? Not at all. In fact, the waitress was so overwhelmed by the sheer presence of my horological masterpiece that she trembled while pouring my coffee, spilling a significant amount of it onto the linoleum.
That is the kind of awe our leaders should inspire. The working class does not want a mirror; they want a beacon.
So let Ken Paxton wear the watch. Let him wear two, if the mood strikes him. In fact, if we truly want to heal the partisan divide and restore faith in our institutions, we should take this a step further. Every elected official in Washington and every state capital should be legally required to wear a timepiece precisely equal in value to the total amount of undisclosed gifts they have received from their wealthiest donors.
It is the only way we will ever know, at a glance, exactly who we are dealing with.