Rand Paul Blasts 'Shocking' $1.6 Trillion in Washington Waste

Paul Riverbank, 12/24/2025Rand Paul's Festivus Report spotlights $1.6 trillion in eyebrow-raising government waste and fiscal excess.

Let’s begin, as Paul does, with the items that jar the most. Among them: a $1.5 million federal outlay for “TikTok therapy,” wherein celebrities try to steer Latino communities away from drugs—not exactly a stale PSA, but not universally embraced as a budget priority either. Then, file under “taste for adventure,” the $2.5 million supplied by the National Science Foundation to convince Americans to sample insects as food. That alone could make anyone push their Brussels sprouts around in nervous anticipation.

Animal studies remain a staple on Paul’s list, reliably raising hackles. This year, the Department of Veterans Affairs is reported to have spent over a million dollars watching adolescent ferrets imbibe alcohol, their short, tipsy lives ending in the name of science—a detail that’s less punchline, more head-scratcher.

Paul’s written preamble is peppered with the sort of frustration that’s become his hallmark. “No matter how much taxpayer money Washington burns through, politicians can’t help but demand more,” he writes—though, by now, it might as well be set to music in the Senate rotunda. For Paul, these expense lines aren’t merely numbers; they’re symptoms of institutional drift, a world where the notion of “priorities” seems to have evaporated somewhere in the Beltway fog.

Yet the truly formidable figure lurking in the report isn’t an experiment gone awry or a publicity campaign. It’s a dry, relentless statistic: $1.22 trillion—just in interest payments on the national debt. What the public may not grasp is that this solitary number eclipses the rest of the “waste” combined. Paul, leaning on a knack for the dramatic, compiles it: every hour, Washington racks up $272 million in borrowing, more than $75,000 per second. It’s the invisible engine, humming ever louder, behind the holiday season’s annual list of excess.

The festival of questionable spending doesn’t end with furred subjects or unconventional bug pitches. Another slice: the government’s $40 million influencer push encouraging minorities to receive COVID-19 vaccines—even though, at the time, strict restrictions had already eased. This, interspersed with a $7.5 billion line-item intended for electric vehicle charging stations, has resulted, after two years, in just 68 built—a number that barely moves the needle, let alone sparks an EV revolution. Elsewhere, the report spotlights $22.6 billion channelled into support for migrants, covering everything from home repairs to car purchases and new furnishings.

Northwestern University, despite its robust endowment, makes the cut—a beneficiary of $3.3 million for so-called “safe space ambassadors” and related diversity initiatives. These kinds of grants perennially make critics wonder why well-resourced universities require more taxpayer aid for programs of questionable public benefit.

Animals aren’t spared in biomedical research, a predictable if macabre annual feature. The National Institutes of Health funneled $5.2 million towards dosing dogs with cocaine—remarkably, not a new entry, but a perennial favorite, resurfacing under various guises. Add another $13.8 million for beagle trials during Dr. Fauci’s tenure, while $14.6 million transported us into stranger pastures: monkeys, their skulls affixed with metal posts, earning rewards in a Price Is Right–style video game.

Quite far afield—geographically and otherwise—the State Department signed off on a $244,000 grant supporting cartoon-based climate lessons for Pakistani children. Meanwhile, $1.5 million paid to promote American movies and video games overseas was likewise deemed not quite self-explanatory in its purpose to U.S. taxpayers.

Paul’s tone throughout is both exasperated and resigned, a familiar duet. “Fiscal responsibility may not be the most crowded road, but it’s a path I’ve walked year after year—and this holiday season will be no different,” he asserts. Though the tone could imply a stubborn crusade, in reality, the auditor’s lamp never fully brightens the shadows. Even the budget belt-tightening and modest cuts of recent administrations made, as Paul himself admits, only the smallest dent; the machine rumbles on.

There’s a ritual predictability to all this: Spend recklessly. Publish a report. Go through the motions of public outrage and oversight hearings. Start spending—again. This year’s Festivus grievances are unlikely to deter next year’s report; it’s a cycle that endures because the underlying patterns never truly shift. The Congressional Budget Office, not given to hyperbole, projects nearly $24 trillion to be added to U.S. debt annually in the coming decade—a forecast as chilling as any winter’s gust.

So while Senator Paul’s Festivus Report is, on the surface, an annual spectacle—part political tradition, part accountability exercise—it’s also an unflagging reminder of the American government’s very expensive habits and the seemingly inexhaustible patience of its citizens. And barring a change in course, it’s safe to wager the grievances list will be as long, or longer, come next December.

Every December, while twinkling lights go up and most people tune out politics in favor of holiday cheer, Senator Rand Paul’s Festivus Report drops with all the subtlety of a skidding freight train. Inspired by the cantankerous Seinfeld holiday devoted to “airing grievances,” Paul’s annual showcase is less a stocking stuffer than a sackful of fiscal coal, and this year’s version doesn’t particularly stray from tradition—except, perhaps, in the scale of its tally: $1.63 trillion in what he calls eye-watering, often eyebrow-raising, federal expenditures.Let’s begin, as Paul does, with the items that jar the most. Among them: a $1.5 million federal outlay for “TikTok therapy,” wherein celebrities try to steer Latino communities away from drugs—not exactly a stale PSA, but not universally embraced as a budget priority either. Then, file under “taste for adventure,” the $2.5 million supplied by the National Science Foundation to convince Americans to sample insects as food. That alone could make anyone push their Brussels sprouts around in nervous anticipation.Animal studies remain a staple on Paul’s list, reliably raising hackles. This year, the Department of Veterans Affairs is reported to have spent over a million dollars watching adolescent ferrets imbibe alcohol, their short, tipsy lives ending in the name of science—a detail that’s less punchline, more head-scratcher.Paul’s written preamble is peppered with the sort of frustration that’s become his hallmark. “No matter how much taxpayer money Washington burns through, politicians can’t help but demand more,” he writes—though, by now, it might as well be set to music in the Senate rotunda. For Paul, these expense lines aren’t merely numbers; they’re symptoms of institutional drift, a world where the notion of “priorities” seems to have evaporated somewhere in the Beltway fog.Yet the truly formidable figure lurking in the report isn’t an experiment gone awry or a publicity campaign. It’s a dry, relentless statistic: $1.22 trillion—just in interest payments on the national debt. What the public may not grasp is that this solitary number eclipses the rest of the “waste” combined. Paul, leaning on a knack for the dramatic, compiles it: every hour, Washington racks up $272 million in borrowing, more than $75,000 per second. It’s the invisible engine, humming ever louder, behind the holiday season’s annual list of excess.The festival of questionable spending doesn’t end with furred subjects or unconventional bug pitches. Another slice: the government’s $40 million influencer push encouraging minorities to receive COVID-19 vaccines—even though, at the time, strict restrictions had already eased. This, interspersed with a $7.5 billion line-item intended for electric vehicle charging stations, has resulted, after two years, in just 68 built—a number that barely moves the needle, let alone sparks an EV revolution. Elsewhere, the report spotlights $22.6 billion channelled into support for migrants, covering everything from home repairs to car purchases and new furnishings.Northwestern University, despite its robust endowment, makes the cut—a beneficiary of $3.3 million for so-called “safe space ambassadors” and related diversity initiatives. These kinds of grants perennially make critics wonder why well-resourced universities require more taxpayer aid for programs of questionable public benefit.Animals aren’t spared in biomedical research, a predictable if macabre annual feature. The National Institutes of Health funneled $5.2 million towards dosing dogs with cocaine—remarkably, not a new entry, but a perennial favorite, resurfacing under various guises. Add another $13.8 million for beagle trials during Dr. Fauci’s tenure, while $14.6 million transported us into stranger pastures: monkeys, their skulls affixed with metal posts, earning rewards in a Price Is Right–style video game.Quite far afield—geographically and otherwise—the State Department signed off on a $244,000 grant supporting cartoon-based climate lessons for Pakistani children. Meanwhile, $1.5 million paid to promote American movies and video games overseas was likewise deemed not quite self-explanatory in its purpose to U.S. taxpayers.Paul’s tone throughout is both exasperated and resigned, a familiar duet. “Fiscal responsibility may not be the most crowded road, but it’s a path I’ve walked year after year—and this holiday season will be no different,” he asserts. Though the tone could imply a stubborn crusade, in reality, the auditor’s lamp never fully brightens the shadows. Even the budget belt-tightening and modest cuts of recent administrations made, as Paul himself admits, only the smallest dent; the machine rumbles on.There’s a ritual predictability to all this: Spend recklessly. Publish a report. Go through the motions of public outrage and oversight hearings. Start spending—again. This year’s Festivus grievances are unlikely to deter next year’s report; it’s a cycle that endures because the underlying patterns never truly shift. The Congressional Budget Office, not given to hyperbole, projects nearly $24 trillion to be added to U.S. debt annually in the coming decade—a forecast as chilling as any winter’s gust.So while Senator Paul’s Festivus Report is, on the surface, an annual spectacle—part political tradition, part accountability exercise—it’s also an unflagging reminder of the American government’s very expensive habits and the seemingly inexhaustible patience of its citizens. And barring a change in course, it’s safe to wager the grievances list will be as long, or longer, come next December.