This week on The Out-of-Touch guide, we're looking into how a sale of LEGO sets in Oregon has led to an escalating series of high-stakes legal battles with millions of bystanders, getting a handle on what kids mean when they say the word "tweaking," and taking a look at Lucky Scoops, the gambling trend kids love.
What "tweaking" means on TikTok
The word "tweaking" dates back to the Old English word twicchen: to pluck sharply, like you might a chicken's feathers. It evolved to "tweaking," with a similar meaning, often used to refer to tweaking someone's nose. In the early 20th century, tweaking started to refer to making minute adjustments to a machine. Then it entered the slang lexicon as a verb used to refer to the nervous and erratic actions of someone on drugs, specifically, speed. Such a person could be referred to a tweaker, and meth is sometimes called "tweak." Generations A and Z have expanded the definition to refer to any actions that are erratic, or even just mildly energetic, not necessarily related to drug use. It's frequently used in memes like the following:
Judging by the #tweaker tag on TikTok, "tweaking" may mean innocent excitement, but "tweaker" remains associated with drug-users. (For more Gen Z and Gen A slang, check out Lifehacker's glossary of youth slang terms.)
What are "Lucky Scoops"?
Kids are way into lucky scoop videos—clips where a seller prepares customers' orders on video, scooping brightly colored trinkets or tokens out of a bowl that determine what merchandise the buyer will receive. A lucky customer might get a watch, a handbag, or a plush toy. Accounts like @kk_scoop50 and @lucky.rosia on TikTok and Instagram have hundreds of thousands of followers, and videos like this:
and this:
get millions of views. These clips have a lot in common with ASMR videos, but they also have a strong gambling element—hence the "lucky" part of "lucky scoops."
I'm sure you're adult and cynical enough to figure out the problem here. This TikToker is selling scoops for $99 each, and this one is $94 per scoop—but the "winning" scoops are cheap items you could buy yourself for way less, and even if a scooper does offer the occasional high-priced prize, the cost of trying to get it no doubt is more than just buying it. They're really selling the same thing casinos are selling: the shot of adrenaline that comes with the chance of winning. But casinos have regulatory bodies, and casinos are for adults.
Some youth advocates have started ringing alarm bells, warning that a lucky scoops habit could turn into a gambling addiction. “You will become more comfortable with uncertainty, and you’ll become more comfortable to make repeated [purchases] to chase rare or high-value rewards despite low odds,” Mina Hazar, head of the Youth Gambling Awareness Program at YMCA of Greater Toronto told the CBC.
TikTok's policy on gambling prohibits posting "lucky scoops," "lucky draws," "lucky spins," and "oyster opening" videos, but also says that specially invited, pre-approved sellers are permitted to host lucky scoops on the TikTok Shop, as long as they cap the price at $100 USD and clearly disclose the exact odds/probabilities of what items are in the pool.
Viral video of the week: I tracked down the thief who stole $200,000 of LEGO
If you have a few hours free, check out this investigation of the supposed theft of some LEGO sets. It might not sound compelling, but trust me on this. YouTuber Reckless Ben, real name Ben Schneider, is like the illegitimate child of Jackass and 60 Minutes; he's known for his skill at slacklining and for his without-a-net YouTube infiltrations of controversial organizations like the Church of Scientology and the truly terrifying 12 Tribes cult. You wouldn't think a civil dispute over some LEGO sets would be Ben's most dangerous mission, but it has led to death threats, lawsuits from a multimillion-dollar corporation, the involvement of a seemingly corrupt small-town police department, and an arrest and possible felony charges—of Ben, not the supposed LEGO thief.
As Ben frames it, this is a David vs. Goliath story with an unlikely Goliath: LEGO resale chain Bricks & Minifigs. It started when a man named Bryan Mansell entered into a consignment agreement with a Bricks & Minifigs location in Oregon. Mansell was/is selling the world's largest collection of Star Wars LEGO sets, valued at around $200,000. The B&M franchise changed hands, and its new owner, it seems, refuses to honor the consignment agreement and also refuses to return the LEGOs. Believing that a lawsuit against B&M would be prohibitively expensive, Mansell told his story on social media, drawing the attention of Reckless Ben, and leading to this series of videos and the kind of public relations nightmare that keeps CEOs awake at night—no matter how compelling the corporation's side of the story is. Based on how people are talking about the company online, the damage to Bricks & Minifigs seems like it's worth way more than $200,000.
This elaborate shaggy-dog story is still unfolding in real life and online, with fallout from Ben's videos spilling over from the LEGO fan community to the mainstream media. Follow along for some better-than-TV summertime drama.
Source: Lifehacker