Why Feed Families When You Can Fund Another Gulfstream?

In a political moment defined by branding-as-bludgeon, the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” might be the most Orwellian word salad since “Freedom Fries.”

Pitched as a lifeline for working Americans, it’s actually a platinum-plated crowbar—used to pry open the last remnants of the social safety net while whispering sweet nothings about “growth.” If Congress were subject to truth-in-labeling laws, this would be filed under The Billionaires Before Basics Bill—subtitled Austerity for Thee, Avocado Toast for Me.

The Philosophy of the Damned

Strip away the star-spangled sales pitch, and what remains is a policy platform so morally vacant it could run for office in Florida.

At its core is a single principle:
The rich are entitled to expansion. Everyone else is expected to shrink.

This bill surgically dismantles Medicaid, force-transfers the logistical chaos of food aid onto underfunded state bureaucracies, and slashes the supports that let working families breathe—just so C-suite executives can write off jet fuel and seaside wine caves.

The SNAP Trap

Let’s talk about food. Or rather, who gets to have it.

The bill’s “restructuring” of SNAP doesn’t just tighten eligibility. It weaponizes red tape—shoveling enforcement responsibility to states already too broke to fix their potholes, much less feed their populations.

Meanwhile, yachts get depreciation tax breaks.

Let me repeat that for clarity: The government is making it harder to feed children than to write off your fifth boat.

Tax “Reform” as Golden Calf Worship

Ah yes, “reform.” In the same way a wrecking ball “reforms” a building.

Tip income? Untaxed.
Overtime? Exempt.
Car loan interest? Suddenly deductible.

Sounds generous—until you follow the math and realize it’s all revenue-neutral by design. Translation: The top 1% harvest the gains. The rest of us inherit the invoice.

Couple that with a warmed-over revival of Trump-era tax cuts and a “generous” hike to SALT deductions, and what you’ve got isn’t policy—it’s a shrine to inherited wealth, built from the bones of public services.

Defense Contracts and Distraction Theater

“Investment” in this bill reads like a Pentagon Christmas list. Billions funneled into private surveillance firms and border wall contractors who’ve already been caught overcharging for concrete and dreams.

Meanwhile:

  • No increased funding for public education
  • No expansion of mental health services
  • No infrastructure projects unless they also double as luxury condos for real estate donors

What we have is public funds laundered into private profit under the camouflage of patriotism.

The Moral Ledger

The “debate” now moves to the Senate, which is about as reassuring as handing a toddler a grenade with a Sharpie that says “Compromise.”

Make no mistake:
A vote for this bill is a vote to codify inequality as strategy—to rob the public pantry while posting a TikTok about fiscal responsibility.

This isn’t fiscal conservatism. It’s ethical bankruptcy in a bespoke suit.

The consequences?

  • More evictions.
  • More emergency room GoFundMes.
  • More kids eating ketchup packets and pretending it’s a meal.

All while the ultra-wealthy reupholster their Gulfstreams in endangered species leather and thank Congress for “supporting small businesses.”

This bill is not policy. It’s a confession.

And the question every lawmaker should be forced to answer is this:
Who do you serve—your constituents or your campaign donors’ investment portfolios?

Because the rest of us?
We’re already paying the price.