When the Scales of Justice Need a Tune-Up: Child Support, Vacations, and the Devil’s Expense Report

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When the Scales of Justice Need a Tune-Up: Child Support, Vacations, and the Devil’s Expense Report

Let’s talk about the Scales of Justice. You know them—the blindfolded lady statue you’ve probably seen outside courthouses, balancing her shiny little brass trays as if she’s weighing diamonds instead of human lives. In theory, she’s neutral, calm, impartial. In practice? She’s more like a part-time carnival worker juggling flaming chainsaws after one too many margaritas.

Especially when child support enters the conversation.

Now, I am not saying children shouldn’t be supported. Obviously, tiny humans cost money. They don’t live on air and Capri Suns alone. They need food, shelter, clothes, orthodontics, video game consoles, and, depending on the peer group, sneakers that cost more than your first car. Parenting, in all its wonder, is a financial black hole.

But somewhere between “responsibility” and “ridiculous” there’s a fault line. And standing directly on that crack is our dear friend: the Devil. Not the metaphorical Devil. Not the one that whispers in your ear to eat the last donut. No, I mean the literal red, horned, unemployed devil in flip-flops demanding a raise in child support so she can fund her annual pilgrimage to Paris—because apparently hell doesn’t have the Eiffel Tower.

And, yes, the Scales of Justice are listening to her.

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A Tale of Two Receipts

Imagine, if you will, two piles of receipts.

On one side, we have the receipts from the actual parent—a stack that includes rent, groceries, Wi-Fi (because try explaining to your teenager why they can’t stream Netflix), medical bills, and soccer cleats. It’s a respectable, if depressing, pile. It’s the kind of pile that says: “I’ve given up on retirement, but at least the child has matching socks today.”

On the other side, we have the Devil’s receipts. And what’s on them? Mai Tais. Manicures. Airline tickets. A suspicious amount of charges from Louis Vuitton. Oh, and a mysterious “consulting fee” from someone named “Jean-Pierre” who, if Instagram is to be believed, is very tan and has abs carved by the gods.

The problem? When Lady Justice squints through her blindfold, she tips the scale toward the Devil’s pile. Why? Because the Devil is very persuasive. Also, her lawyer probably owns a yacht.

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Justice Is Supposed to Be Blind, Not Gullible

The theory is that child support ensures a child enjoys the same standard of living in both homes. That sounds reasonable, right? Kids shouldn’t feel like royalty at one house and Dickensian orphans at the other. The law, in its infinite wisdom, tries to smooth that out.

But here’s where the scales start wobbling. The formula doesn’t have an input for “parent is a literal demon who thinks a vacation is a constitutional right.” It doesn’t ask:

Is this money actually being spent on the child, or on a sangria in Paris?

Does the requesting parent have employment, or is their career goal “Professional Spa Tester”?

Is there a second suitcase labeled More Vacations that magically never runs out of space?

Nope. The formula just cranks away, spitting out numbers like a slot machine programmed by Lucifer’s accountant. And you, the unlucky winner, get to finance someone else’s “Eat, Pray, Love” tour through Europe while you’re eating Ramen and praying your Wi-Fi doesn’t get shut off.

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The Devil Is in the Details (Literally)

Here’s the thing: the Devil is a master negotiator. She’s been doing this for centuries. Souls, contracts, fine print—this is her wheelhouse. So when she waltzes into family court with her pitchfork freshly polished and her lawyer in Armani, the rest of us don’t stand a chance.

She’ll say things like:

“The child deserves cultural experiences in Paris!”

“The child should benefit from my yoga retreat in Bali—it makes me a better parent!”

“The child loves macarons. Do you know how much those cost in France?”

Meanwhile, the actual parent is trying to explain that the child also loves pizza, which conveniently costs $12 delivered. But nobody’s listening, because the Devil’s exhibit A is a PowerPoint presentation featuring a sunset over the Seine and a photo of the Eiffel Tower glowing pink for breast cancer awareness. Cue the tears, cue the applause, cue another three zeros added to your support order.

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When the Scales Need a Mechanic

If the Scales of Justice were a car, they’d fail inspection. One wheel’s missing, the transmission slips, and the check-engine light has been on since the Clinton administration. But instead of pulling into the shop for some repairs, we just keep driving it, watching sparks fly from the undercarriage while pretending everything’s fine.

The truth is, these scales need recalibration. They need a new feature: a “vacation filter.” Something that sorts legitimate child expenses (clothes, food, braces) from not-so-legitimate ones (lobster dinners, five-star hotels, spa packages). A filter that recognizes the difference between “parental need” and “parental greed.”

Because, let’s be honest: the Devil doesn’t need a vacation. She’s already on one. She’s unemployed, lounging under an umbrella labeled Child Support, sipping a cocktail, while the rest of us punch the clock and wonder if it’s legal to reuse a teabag for the third time.

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The Economics of Absurdity

Here’s a math problem you’ll never see in a textbook:

If Parent A works 50 hours a week at $20 an hour, and Parent B works 0 hours a week but demands a lifestyle equivalent to a Kardashian on tour, how many years until Parent A collapses from exhaustion?

Answer: Trick question. Parent A doesn’t collapse. Parent A just keeps working, because the system tells them that if they don’t, they’ll end up in contempt of court. Meanwhile, Parent B is uploading selfies in front of the Louvre with captions like “Living my best life #Blessed #SupportGoals.”

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But What About the Children?

Ah yes, the ultimate trump card: “It’s for the children.”

Who’s going to argue with that? Nobody wants to be the monster who denies a child. Except here’s the thing—half the time, the money isn’t for the children. It’s for the Devil’s travel fund. The child’s not getting new shoes; the Devil’s getting new heels. The child’s not eating three balanced meals; the Devil’s sampling Michelin-starred tasting menus.

If anyone dares to ask where the money went, the Devil produces a blurry photo of the child eating a croissant in Paris. “See? She loves it!” Never mind that the croissant cost 7 euros and the child ate two bites before saying, “Do you have pizza?”

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My Own Balancing Act

Now, I’m not above poking fun at myself here. I’ve done the math on my own finances, and let me tell you, the results are grim. If the Devil gets her triple request, I’ll be the first parent in history to declare bankruptcy at Costco. Imagine explaining that to a judge:

“Your Honor, I couldn’t afford bulk toilet paper anymore. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to buy the four-pack instead of the 36-roll tower of dignity?”

But the scales don’t care about my math. They don’t care about my bills, my hours, or the fact that my cat is giving me judgmental stares every time I crack open another can of generic beans. The cat, by the way, is thriving. Probably because he’s not paying child support.

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How to Fix the Scales (Spoiler: We Won’t)

In a perfect world, here’s what the scales would consider when calculating child support:

1. Actual Expenses for the Child. Crazy idea, I know.

2. Income of Both Parents. Including “mysterious unemployment” that magically funds vacations.

3. Evidence of Extravagance. If the requesting parent’s Instagram has more airport selfies than Delta’s official account, maybe that’s relevant.

4. A Reality Check. Literally. Have the parent itemize where every dollar goes. If “Eiffel Tower Souvenirs” appears, the gavel should drop immediately.

But let’s be honest. The scales aren’t going to change. They’re too busy wobbling under the weight of all those Louis Vuitton receipts. So instead, we adapt. We laugh at the absurdity. We survive on coffee, sarcasm, and the faint hope that someday, maybe, someone will realize that justice shouldn’t mean subsidizing the Devil’s vacation photos.

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The Devil’s Vacation Brochure

Just to rub it in, the Devil recently sent me a brochure for her next “family bonding” vacation. It listed:

All-inclusive cruise! (Child not included in price.)

Guided shopping tours of Milan! (For “educational purposes.”)

Yoga on the beach at sunrise! (Child still asleep back home.)

At the bottom, in fine print: “Funded generously by supporters like you.”

I almost sent it back with corrections. Almost. But stamps cost money, and apparently I need to save that for the next round of court fees.

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Closing Arguments (Before the Devil’s Lawyer Interrupts)

So here’s where we land: the Scales of Justice, in their current state, aren’t just unbalanced—they’re actively promoting absurdity. They’ve gone from a noble symbol of fairness to a cheap seesaw at the Devil’s playground.

We need to remember that supporting a child should be about supporting a child—not subsidizing vacations, not funding cocktails by the Seine, not fueling a lifestyle that belongs in a reality show. Until then, we’ll keep grinding away, stacking receipts on one side while the Devil stacks designer luggage on the other.

And Lady Justice? She’ll keep wobbling, pretending her blindfold is working, while we wonder how in the world “fairness” ended up feeling like a full-time job with no vacation days.

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Word Count: ~2,510

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Do you want me to punch this up with some faux “illustrations” described in text (like mini cartoon panels) to make it read even more like your editorial cartoon series, or keep it as a long satirical essay?