Voices: Chet Walker, Escondido, California

My son is all into politics. Campaigned for Obama, plastered his Toyota with bumper stickers, the whole bit. I’m getting old and cynical. I tell him not to waste his time trying to make the country better. The only way to clean a cesspool is to drain it, know what I mean? Jeff complains that the whole system is corrupted by money, well, no kidding, Sherlock! I’ve been a plumbing contractor for 38 years, never spent a minute in a college classroom, and I know that money talks – and big money talks really loud. Jeff seems surprised that congressmen and senators and judges are bought every day. It’s like he believes these people get into politics for pure motives or something, or that once they get elected or appointed they become saints. Jeff’s educated, but he’s not smart, know what I mean? Understand the difference? Brains, yes, smarts, no. Jeff wants me to call my congressman about this, my senator about that, as if those people give a rat’s behind for my opinion. I tell him to put himself in their place. Are you going to listen to some schmuck back home or the corporate lobbyist who pays for your TV ads? No brainer, right? Might as well vote for Donald Duck. Rich people own this country, always have and always will. Don’t get me wrong, though – Jeff’s heart is in the right place – it’s just that his head is buried in the sand. You want to know what politics does? I’ll tell you. When you get right down to it all it does is make robbery legal. What the hell do I need it for? Like I don’t have enough aggravation in my daily life? What I care about is whether or not my Mexican crew will show up tomorrow, on time, sober, prepared to do a day’s work. Dumb as posts, some of these Mexicans, but in the plumbing business that’s what you work with. Jeff says I’m racist, but it’s not true. I could pay my guys less, squeeze them a little more, but I don’t and never have. Give me the choice between a Mexican and a white redneck, I take the Mexican every single time. I care about customers who don’t pay my invoices on time and don’t seem concerned about it, like I’m some sort of charitable organization. I care about sub-contractors who cut corners and make me look bad. Yeah, I got plenty to worry about without taking on politics. My son’s a bleeding heart, just like his mother, my first wife, who slept with my partner and screwed me but good in the divorce. Don’t get me started. Politics, OK, that’s one thing, my ex-wife’s a whole different story. I’d rather spend a day digging a trench in hell than talk about her. Know what I mean?