$300 Million for a Ballroom? We Can’t Even Afford Food.

Laura Bock , , ,

$300 Million for a Ballroom? We Can’t Even Afford Food.

They love to play the “but Obama put in a basketball court!” card like it’s a moral-equivalence defense. Cute. Nostalgic, even.

“Yeah, but Joe put in a ping-pong table.”

Now let’s be real for two minutes.

A Wing, Not a Wallpaper Change

Small, tasteful touch-ups? Fine. Presidential family renovations that get congressional approval and a lighthearted chuckle on the evening news aren’t the same as quietly gutting the people’s house and rebuilding it into a gold-plated ego temple.

We’re not talking about swapping a rug or installing solar panels. We’re talking about demolishing an entire wing of the White House — without approval — to build a $300 million ballroom the size of a country club.

All while the government is shut down.

All while people can’t afford health insurance, food, or rent.

All while essential programs are being gutted.

“We Don’t Have the Money” — Except for Billionaires

Remember when “we don’t have the money” meant no school supplies, no cancer research, no veteran programs, no CDC staffing?

Those were the real cuts — the ones that hit actual Americans.

But somehow, we’ve always got the cash to:

  • Hand out tax cuts to billionaires
  • Give billions to ICE to terrorize cities
  • Ship billions overseas to authoritarian “friends”
  • Buy private jets for loyal cronies
  • And sue the DOJ for daring to investigate an insurrection

It’s grotesque. It’s obscene. It’s not governance — It’s basically corruption dressed up to look fancy.

If Obama Sneezed, They Screamed

If a Democrat did even one of these things, the right would spontaneously combust.

Obama wore a tan suit once and Faux News lost its collective mind.

Meanwhile, Trump could drown puppies live on TV and certain corners of the right would still find a way to blame “the woke mob” for distracting him.

The silence isn’t restraint. It’s complicity.

A Ballroom for a Man Who Can’t Dance

Three hundred million dollars. For a ballroom.

For a man who can’t dance and won’t walk anywhere without a golf cart. Bone spurs, remember?

We’ve spent a decade watching a man who moves like he’s doing interpretive jazz hands and jacking-off two giraffes to the YMCA — a song about gay men, by the way, which he still hasn’t figured out.

This isn’t just tone-deaf. It’s mockery of everyone struggling to pay for groceries.

Starving the People, Feeding the Ego

Threatening to cut off food benefits for millions of Americans unless Congress, more importantly, Dems, reopens the government? That’s not negotiation. That’s extortion.

And hearing it from someone who’s never skipped a meal in his life — it’s beyond insulting.

Hunger isn’t missing your extra nuggets, Diaper Don. It’s watching your kid cry over an empty fridge.

You don’t get to starve the working class to fund your golden whorehouse of self-importance.

January 6th Should’ve Been the Line

Until my last breath, I’ll never understand how January 6th wasn’t an instant deal-breaker for every American voter.

How do you watch a mob storm the Capitol — waving flags of one man and vandalizing the hallowed halls of the Capitol — and then say, “Yeah, but egg prices”?

That day should have split the country cleanly between those who believe in democracy and those who believe in dictatorship. The fact that it didn’t? That’s the scariest part of all.

Look to Iceland

In October 1975, women in Iceland didn’t have equal pay. They went on general strike — one day only. The country shut down.

Within weeks, Iceland passed equal-pay laws.

Fifteen years later, they elected their first female president.

That’s power. That’s what happens when everyday people stop accepting crumbs.

General strikes work.

Accountability, Not Revenge

So here’s the message, Mr. Ex-President:

You’re old. You’re tired. You’re out of magic tricks. The PR can’t hide the rot forever.

But, I’m not wishing you harm. I’m wishing you accountability.

Real, legal, public-record accountability.

The kind that history books print in boldface.

And when that day comes — when the circus folds its tent — people will celebrate. Not out of cruelty, but relief. Relief that the nightmare finally ended.

We’re Not Powerless

I can’t help but be furious. I can’t help but be scared.
But mostly, I’m determined.

I will:

  • Keep reminding people about January 6th
  • Keep pointing to the cuts to kids, vets, and education
  • Keep calling out the billionaire tax-cut scams
  • Keep saying this is not normal

Because it’s not.

We deserve better than a government run like a con. We deserve better than a country where “leadership” means hoarding and cruelty. We deserve a government that works for all of us — not just the ones with yachts.

Final Thought

Until my last breath, I’ll wonder how we didn’t all draw the line sooner. But I’ll also believe that we still can.

Resist. Vote. Organize. Strike if we must.

That’s how we win back the house — literally and figuratively.