The addiction to 'expert' YouTubers: the miracle additive case

The addiction to 'expert' YouTubers: the miracle additive case

The sound of a pssst when opening a Coca-Cola live on air has become the trademark of a YouTuber who claims to be a mechanical engineer despite never having worked a single day in his life. His livestreams attract trinc who devour content about wind energy, international relations and, above all, engine additives. But a channel specializing in motor oils has revealed that his flagship product is nothing more than a rebranding of a generic compound, without the cutting-edge research it promised.

The profile of the snake-oil seller
The man in question describes himself as a multidisciplinary sage: from sociology to parapsychology, via engineering and journalism (never actually practiced). He traveled to Sweden and became an expert on the Nordic country; he skims the flap of an economics book and already knows the plans of the global elite. His channel is a jumble of baseless opinions, but he has built a loyal community that buys his products.

The additive racket
A few months ago he launched a line of engine additives, boasting about his own revolutionary research process. However, a YouTube channel that analyzes motor oils dismantled the product: the additives were nothing more than a rebranded Chinese product, with no innovation whatsoever. His trinc community, however, has not lost interest. The creator, bald with tattooed hair (as some critics describe him), keeps opening his Coca-Cola in every livestream, and the audience keeps listening.

Why do these profiles hook people?
The mix of false authority, marked charisma (even if irritating) and the promise of exclusive knowledge creates a dependence similar to that of a guru. The additive case is just the tip of the iceberg: this YouTuber opines on everything, sells smoke and mirrors, and yet retains an audience that defends him tooth and nail. The final irony: the product was a scam, but the addiction to the personality remains.