Everybody out of the basement . . .NOW!

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BY BRIAN KAREM

After hearing for the tenth time that the only people who will be adversely affected by the “One Big Beautiful Bill” once it becomes law will be young men hunkered in the basement playing video games, I confess, I overreacted.

“Enough of this shit,” I said as I flung open my basement door. “You get up here right now and get a job so you can get healthcare!” I expected my 28-year-old son to crawl out of his basement dwelling looking like Homer Simpson after a night with Molly and tequila.

To my chagrin, more than two dozen young men climbed out of the cellar, smelling of popcorn, beer and stale sandwiches. “Damn Mr. Karem, you caught us,” one of them said. They all looked like lemurs. “How did you know we were down there?”

I blinked. “You all here for fireworks? Wait a minute. How long have you guys been down there?” I asked. I suddenly realized why I was spending so much on utilities and President Donald Trump was right.

There must be millions of these kids hiding in basements all around the country. All o them unwilling to work and sapping all of our social services along with all the lazy “illegal immigrants” who are taking American jobs.

Yeah. That’s why we just had to have the “One Big Beautiful Bill.” These kids deserve to lose access to all their entitlement programs. When it comes to Medicaid at least, several GOP politicians have told me; it will be adults between the ages of 29 and 35 who choose to live in their mother’s basement—all to avoid working—who will really pay the price.

“You can get a waiter job,” I told the kids. “You don’t even have to pay taxes on tips!” I was furious. These kids are given everything.

“And I don’t have enough fireworks for everyone,” I explained. “So you kids get off my lawn. The Chinese are refusing to sell us our American fireworks because of the tariffs. This a trade war and we will WIN!”

I got angrier as I saw the kids slowly emerging from their cave to face the harsh light of day. Suddenly, I understood why there were so many shoes in my hall closet. I opened it up to start handing out the footwear when I found dozens of migrant workers.

“We’re fleeing from ICE. Help us!” They said.

“Aren’t you violent criminals who need to go back to your home country?” I asked.

“I operate a booth at a farmer’s market,” one said. The others nodded. “I’m a day laborer at Home Depot,” another told me. “I’m the President of the local PTA,” a third man told me. “If you want the real criminals,” he explained “look on the shelves in the closet.”

“Is that a metaphor?” I asked the earnest PTA President.

“No. Literally look on the shelf.” He pointed.

I turned and saw three members of congress; Victoria Spartz of Indiana, Andrew Clyde of Georgia, and Keith Self of Texas. They were all sitting on Senator Lisa Murkowski from Alaska.

“What the Hell are you guys doing in the closet?” I demanded to know.

“We opposed the president on this horrible bill and now he’s after us.” Clyde said.

“Me too,” squeaked Murkowsi. She didn’t look comfortable as they sat on her.

“Can someone let her up?” I asked. The senator was obviously in a great deal of distress.

“No. She said she was voting for the Bill because she got cut outs for Alaska.” Self explained.

“Yeah,” Spartz said as she shifted her weight on Murkowski’s back. “Some patriot. She hates the bill but can’t stand up to Trump. She’s the worst.

“No courage at all,” Clyde complained. “It makes us all look bad.”

I looked at the members of the House flatly. “Wait. Didn’t you all oppose the bill and then vote to pass it? Did you all get cut outs?”

“No. No. No.” The three of them said harmoniously. I swear I could hear piano behind them.

“We’re not sell outs,” Spartz said proudly.

“Yeah,” Clyde explained. “We believe in this President. This is an absolutely horrible bill and it will cost all of our constituents, but it’s far better than anything Biden ever did.”

“Besides,” Self said, “We know the Big Beautiful Bill’s bad but we had to follow our convictions.”

“Felony convictions?” I asked. No one said anything.

“Well whatever. At least the senator got something out of the deal. So, literally get off her back. But none of you are Thomas Massie.” I said.

“Thank God. What an idiot. He’s going to get primaried. I have to think of myself and I wouldn’t ever risk my morality to do what Massie did. I have my standards,” Self said of himself.

I pulled the members of Congress out of the closet, dusted them off and handed the kids their shoes and showed the migrants, kids and members of congress the front door. Tough day. Tough room.

“Wait!” Murkowski said suddenly. Everyone stopped.

“What?” I replied.

Murkowski had a look of terror on her face. “J.D. We forgot J.D!”

“The Vice President?” I asked.

“Yes.” Murkowski said.

“Where is he?” I thought the closet was empty.

“We left him in the living room under the couch.” Spartz explained.

I must’ve had a confused look on my face. Before I could say anything, Self found his voice, “We figured that was the safest place for him.”

We walked back into the living room, but as we did Vance emerged from the guest bathroom.

“Where have you been?” Murkowski demanded. “We were going to leave you!”

“I was busy putting on my eyeliner,” Vance said. “I got bored under the couch.” My dog, sitting on the sofa just looked at Vance. A small string of drool dripped from his lips.

I looked at all of these characters and suddenly couldn’t believe what I saw; Members of Congress and the Vice President didn’t seem like they had a care in the world. They were actually somehow happy that the “One Big Beautiful Bill” had passed.

It was evident in their cherubic smiles, and their playful banter. They all had come back to the fold and would now reap the rewards of being the loyal foot soldiers there to serve Donald Trump The King. Joy. Rapture.

“Aren’t any of you guys worried about blowback in the 2026 election?” I asked.

Vance was the first, but not the only one to laugh out loud. “Election?” His grin got even wider.

“Are you saying there won’t be a midterm election?” I asked incredulously. “You’d be destroying the government. No one would stand for that.”

Vance just snickered. “Thanks for the laugh. Don’t be silly. We won’t get rid of the election. It will be a comfortable election.”

I bit. “Comfortable election?

“Yeah, you know. Be comfortable,” The Vice President assured me. The four members of congress all let out a relaxing sigh. “You won’t have to wait a day or two to see who wins, you’ll know we’ve won going in. You know. comfortable.”

I was sure that would never fly. “Come on man. That would lead to violence if people found that out too. It has to be a free and fair election.”

JD grinned. “Who cares? I got a spot in Peter Thiel’s bunker when the bombs drop.”

“Bombs drop?” One of the migrant workers asked that question.

“Or, you know, the plague hits,” Self explained. The other members of congress nodded their heads.

“We’re still banking on RFK Jr. for that. There’s a reason why we put a worm in his head,” Murkowski explained.

“Right,” I said softly

“. . Or if a meteor strikes, or aliens invade, or a massive solar flare wipes out life on earth. Whatever. We win. You lose,” Vance said.

“What?” I said.

“You know,” Vance smiled. “There’s a bunch a reasons to be in the bunker. But we win.”

“What does that say for humanity?” The kids who were in my basement asked in unison.

“Fuck humanity. We win. We’re rich. You lose. You’re poor. Believe me I know poor. I wrote Hillbilly Elegy. I got mine. You get yours,” Vance barked.

“Hmmm.. . okay. So, what are you going to do in the bunker while you wait it all out?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Play nintendo?” Vance offered.

I look around. “Can you take these guys with you?”

The kids started screaming. “Yeah. We know how to play!”

I quickly hustled them out of the house and I closed the door as fast as I could.

What a Fourth of July.

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