Loki and Rumpelstiltskin Roast "Fake Social Media Psychics"| Crystal Balls and Clickbait
Ah, mortals, your antics never fail to amuse me. This time, you’ve outdone yourselves with the rise of the fake social media psychic—those self-proclaimed seers who, with a deck of cards and a Wi-Fi connection, claim to know your destiny for the low, low price of a monthly subscription.
I’m Loki, the God of Mischief, and joining me in this roast is none other than Rumpelstiltskin, the master of deals gone wrong. And oh, do we have some thoughts about these charlatans peddling generic fortunes for likes and shares.
Rumpelstiltskin rubs his hands together, eyes gleaming with delight. “Oh, Loki, these so-called psychics are a goldmine of absurdity! They sit behind their screens, spinning vague fortunes like, ‘You will encounter a challenge today.’ Well, no kidding! The challenge is figuring out why anyone would fall for their nonsense!”
I chuckle, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Indeed, Rumpel. It’s almost impressive how they manage to say nothing and yet make it sound like a revelation. ‘Your aura is out of balance.’ Of course, it is! It’s hard to stay centered when you’re dodging clickbait and empty promises.”
Rumpelstiltskin laughs, his voice a gleeful cackle. “And let’s not forget the personalized readings! For just $29.99, they’ll tell you that ‘love is coming your way’ or that you should ‘beware of negative energy.’ But when did a bad day ever need a clairvoyant to point it out?”
Alice chimes in from her seat at the mad tea party, her tone dripping with irony. “Perhaps they peek through their digital crystal balls—otherwise known as your social media profiles. What a coincidence that their ‘insights’ always align with what you’ve recently posted. It’s almost as if they have a cheat sheet!”
Rumpelstiltskin, ever the dealmaker, smirks. “I should start offering a service myself: ‘I’ll spin you a tale of your future, and for a small fortune, I’ll guarantee it’s as real as my name!’”
I raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Ah, but Rumpel, you’d at least deliver a bit of truth—albeit twisted. These fakes? They prey on the desperate, offering hope in exchange for clicks and cash. They’re like modern-day snake oil salespeople, except their bottles are empty.”
Alice sips her tea, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “And yet, they thrive because people want to believe that someone out there has the answers. But darling, the real fortune-tellers don’t need Instagram filters or live streams. They deal in real magic, not in algorithm-approved fluff.”
Rumpelstiltskin nods. “The saddest part, Loki, is that some mortals genuinely seek guidance. They’re vulnerable, looking for meaning. And instead of wisdom, they get regurgitated platitudes.”
I lean forward, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Here’s a real prophecy for you, mortals: The future you’re so eager to glimpse? It’s unwritten, and no amount of digital divination will change that. Your fate isn’t in the hands of a Twitter tarot card.”
Rumpelstiltskin claps his hands, delighted. “Well said, Loki! Let them take back their power and realize that their destiny isn’t bound by a charlatan’s script. They might just find that the greatest magic lies in their own choices.”
Alice raises her teacup, toasting to the absurdity. “To the mortals, may they see through the fog of fake prophecies and find their own truth—preferably without a subscription fee.”
So, mortals, next time you scroll past a social media psychic, remember: real magic isn’t sold by the megabyte, and your future doesn’t come with a refund policy. Trust yourselves, or at least find a real wizard. We hear they give better customer service.
A gentle reminder from your favorite trickster and his charming accomplices: that last bit of advice, It’s coming from a fantasy world where magic flows as freely as wine, where Gypsies, witches, and all manner of mystical beings roam the land.
We’ve got spells, prophecies, and the occasional dragon—it’s a place where the impossible is an everyday occurrence. But let’s be clear: this is a fantasy world, not your local coffee shop’s reality.
So, while it’s all fun and games here in the land of whimsy and wonder, let’s keep those feet firmly planted on the ground, shall we? Stay grounded, mortals. Don’t lose yourselves down the rabbit hole of online sorcery. Real life might not have talking teacups, but it’s got its own brand of magic—one you make with your own hands.
