House Republicans tripped over their own shoelaces trying to push the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” through the Budget Committee, leaving the Trump administration’s grand plan in a comedic heap. This 1,116-page behemoth, named with a wink to the president’s flair for superlatives, crashed with a 16-21 vote, as some GOP rebels joined Democrats in a bipartisan facepalm moment.
Picture this: a room full of lawmakers, some clutching coffee, others their principles, as the bill—touted as the ultimate fix for America’s wallet—met its match. Hard-right Republicans, led by the likes of Reps. Chip Roy, Ralph Norman, Josh Brecheen, and Andrew Clyde, played the role of stubborn uncles at Thanksgiving, demanding deeper cuts to Medicaid and Biden’s green energy tax breaks before they’d sign off.
Democrats, meanwhile, weren’t laughing. They called the bill unconscionable, warning it would yank health insurance from 7.6 million people and food stamps from 3 million monthly SNAP recipients, all while handing the wealthiest Americans a tax-cut piñata.
The bill’s defeat was a buzzkill for House Speaker Mike Johnson, who had hoped to waltz it through by next week. Undeterred, the Budget Committee scheduled a rare Sunday night encore at 10 p.m., proving that in Washington, even failure gets a sequel.
Before the vote, President Donald Trump took to social media, sounding like a coach rallying a team down by 20 points. “Republicans MUST UNITE behind, ‘THE ONE, BIG BEAUTIFUL BILL!’” he thundered, adding, “We don’t need ‘GRANDSTANDERS’ in the Republican Party!” Alas, the grandstanders had other plans.
This bill is no lightweight—it’s a policy buffet with something for everyone to love or loathe. It promises to triple the state and local tax deduction cap to $30,000 for joint filers earning up to $400,000, a nod to high-tax state residents who’ve been grumbling since 2017.
It also extends Trump’s 2017 tax cuts, sprinkles in new ones like no taxes on tips, overtime pay, or some auto loans, and boosts the child tax credit by $500 to $2,500. For middle-income folks, there’s a beefier $32,000 standard deduction for joint filers, because who doesn’t love a little extra pocket change?
But the bill’s spicier bits stirred the pot. It demands Medicaid recipients clock 80 hours a month of work or community service to keep their healthcare, a rule that had conservatives like Rep. Norman grumbling about its 2029 start date—too far off for their taste.
SNAP’s work requirements would also expand, roping in able-bodied adults up to age 64, while states would have to pony up more for the program. The Congressional Budget Office, ever the party pooper, estimated these changes would leave millions without health coverage or food aid, ballooning deficits faster than a bad sitcom’s budget.
Then there’s the $350 billion cherry on top for Trump’s deportation agenda and Pentagon boosts, because nothing says “beautiful” like a well-funded border wall and shiny new tanks. The bill’s ambition is almost inspiring, if you squint past the chaos.
Rep. Lloyd Smucker, in a move straight out of a political rom-com, switched his vote to “no” at the last minute, but only as a procedural wink to keep the bill alive for Sunday’s do-over. “I’m confident we’ll get this done,” he said, channeling the optimism of a kid who thinks they can rebuild a LEGO tower after a toddler rampage.
Rep. Norman, bless his heart, insisted he wasn’t defying Trump. “This isn’t a grandstand,” he said, as if anyone could grandstand better than a 1,116-page bill named like a Broadway musical.
The Budget Committee, usually a sleepy administrative pit stop, turned into a stage for this Capitol Hill drama. Eleven committees had poured their hearts into crafting this mega-package, only to watch it stall like a car with a deadwatered-down coffee.
What’s inspiring here is the sheer audacity of it all. In a divided Congress, the idea of uniting behind a bill this sprawling feels like trying to herd cats during a thunderstorm. Yet, the Republicans’ determination to try again Sunday shows a tenacity that’s almost heroic, or at least stubbornly optimistic.
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