Dear Magic 8 Ball Manufacturers,
My name is Jackie and I am a 28-year-old woman working in marketing, currently trying to accumulate followers for a parody Instagram account based on singer-songwriter Jewel memes.
Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to know how my future would pan out. Would I be rich? Would I be famous? Would I be rich and famous? I wanted to know what may happen to me and if I would have to work hard and earn my gratifyingly luxurious lifestyle or if it would just be handed to me…sort of like—well I guess you could say, magic.
I had tried many psychic endeavors, everything from palm readings to tarot cards, to making a blood pact with a demonic spirit who promised me things he definitely has not delivered on.
Recently I decided to try something I hadn’t thought of before—one of your most famous creations. I figured this would be a cheap way to find out where my life would take me, and my roommate said that if I tried any other demon-y tactics she would “call the police again.”
I carefully read the instructions on the packaging of the Magic 8 Ball. While doing this I also noticed that it was made in China. I was happy to discover this because I hear Chinese culture has many powerful and ancient mystical aspects. Kudos to you for hiring people with the knowledge to make this a truly authentic product!
The instructions said to think of your question, ask it out loud and then shake the Magic 8 Ball while concentrating on the query at hand. I did just that. I thought to myself, “Magic 8 Ball, will I be rich, famous, loved like with the looks of Fergie circa 2006? AND will I have to do anything to get that, or can I just sit on my ass and watch the cash flow in?” I concentrated harder than I’ve ever concentrated on anything before in my life and shook that 8 Ball so hard that I popped a blood vessel. Finally I looked down. I looked down to see if I would become someone, someone important and influential, like
I thought of all the mojitos I would be sipping on my Calabasas property by my infinity pool. I thought of all the celebrity friends I’d have and how I’d be patting Angelina’s hand one day telling her it gets better, that Taboo of “The Black Eyed Peas” was a scrub, while laughing raucously with Tori Spelling the next, because somehow our lives weren’t as messy at the moment. I imagined all these things in my mind’s eye and they seemed so real I could reach out and grab them. I shook the Magic 8 Ball. Again, I looked down to see what it said.
Not even, “signs point to no”, or “my indications say not today” but just a cold and simple “No” like someone who’s tired of your shit and can’t even bother arguing with you anymore.
This is when I got angry. I did everything the instructions told me to do and still I got nothing out of the deal. Does your company enjoy crushing people’s dreams? Do they know that most people who play this game are children? Do they know that these children rely on this ball to promise them that their dreams will come true, that they’ll definitely end up hot, and that they won’t end up sad like their parents?
I think you took advantage of the believers out there and that isn’t very fair.

The Magic 8 Ball ruins dreams, it crushes hopes, and it instills the fear into young, impressionable minds that they won’t achieve their dreams very easily. Your company needs to apologize for this sick joke they call a “fun toy” and recall all of the Magic 8 Balls. Every last one. Then they need to burn them all. And finally they need to pay for a celebrity therapist, someone like Taboo, for all those traumatized children and myself. Does it have to be Taboo? No, but he does seem like he’d be a great listener since he never actually sang.

I hope you read this letter to completion. The world’s future depends on it. Oh, and I’d like to return the Magic 8 ball and get my $9.95 back. There is some light wear and tear. I’ll really just be returning shards of glass, a bowl of water, and a disappointing die.
P.S. This is the last time I put the fate of my future into balls.

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