Australian Man Shakes His Fist At Instagram Scam

Hello and welcome back to the EX3 Corporation newsroom. Today, I'm gonna be ranting and hollering (and also digging into) a bunch of assholes dropshipping some pure sludge.

I don't go on Instagram much, and especially not on my computer, because their web app is somehow the worst React UI ever despite Meta making literally React, but I decided to take the plunge and scroll some Reels. Among the videos I saw of people being brutally killed and glitchy boomer videos, I came across an ad where they were selling these fridge vinyl magnet thingymajigies. It immediately looked AI-generated out the wazoo.

I doubt anything will happen from this post, I also doubt anyone will even see it, but I kinda don't care. This is some really crazy fuckin' shit. And I will also probably stop using Instagram until the next time I feel masochistic.

Prologue

"Avicii fans x IKEA"

If that didn't look AI to you, then look at this:

ditto

My favourite, "LEIB [R LLEACY". Truly the best musical collection.

Pause. I want to preface this by saying I'm not just swinging my arms around at nothing. Avicii was my childhood hero. When he died in April 2018, I was 10 years old. His death was the first time I experienced the loss of someone I genuinely admired.

So when I see some shit like this, my spidey senses are through the fuckin' roof, going absolute wumbo mode. Uh, I'll get to that later...

Okay! That point hammered home, I checked out their page. And it was the entire profile. Just... random jibberjabber about Avicii.

The profile on Instagram

Clicking about told me some very useful metadata:

About this account: joined August 2026, based in Colombia

Created August 2026. Keep that in mind.

So, I went through their videos and saw a bit of a pattern. It's just a compilation of random people in wholesale stores like Costco or IKEA finding this musical box (we'll get to it soon) on a shelf, freaking out, dropping their beverage on the floor, then it cuts to opening the box, and it in action. Shocking!

Chapter 1: Recycling?

As I scrolled to the bottom of their page, a staggering 161 posts, the first post was on August 27, 2026.

Avicii Vinyl Player at IKEA (not even vinyl but ok)

It's this woman in an IKEA with pants baggy enough to carry a nightstand home in dropping a Monster Energy drink in absolute shock from discovering the music box. And look at the way it spills... I didn't know cans explode like that.

I saw the exact same video 4 more times, with a different on-screen caption.

Still 1: "Avicii fans don't walk RUN to IKEA...". Still 2: "Avicii lovers: this one's for you". Still 3: "Babe stop buying Avicii stuff you're 28". Still 4: "POV: the new Avicii vinyl players just released" (NOT FUCKING VINYL)

They didn't do as well as the first one, but, my god! The same woman, the same massive pants, the same strange Monster can, the same pseudo-pog face recycled ad nauseam with marginally different captions.

Chapter 2: The very strange website and AI imagery

Alright, let's shift gears. Enough regurgitating the posts, we know they're AI-generated and mass uploaded. Let's check the website: vinylmuse.store.

Their website with "Levels & Legacy" (TM)

I quickly determined that this is just another generic Shopify website, but to confirm, I tried opening DevTools to check. I hit F12. Nothing. CTRL+Shift+I. Nothing. Right-click. Nothing! That alone is a pretty strange red flag, because there's something intentionally preventing you from opening DevTools. Nevertheless, I just went Vivaldi > Tools > Toggle Developer Tools.

I was expecting a debugger spam loop to freeze the site, but fortunately, they didn't add one of those. Instead, I found:

        window.addEventListener("contextmenu", (e) => {
          e.preventDefault();
        });
        document.addEventListener("selectstart", (e) => {
          e.preventDefault();
        });
        document.addEventListener('DOMContentLoaded', function() {
          document.querySelectorAll('img').forEach(img => {
            img.addEventListener('dragstart', function(e) {
              e.preventDefault();
            })
          })
        })
        function ctrlShiftKey(e, keyCode) {
          return e.ctrlKey && e.shiftKey && e.keyCode === keyCode.charCodeAt(0);
        }
        document.addEventListener('keydown', function(e) {
          if (
            event.keyCode === 123 ||
            ctrlShiftKey(e, 'I') ||
            ctrlShiftKey(e, 'J') ||
            ctrlShiftKey(e, 'C') ||
            (e.ctrlKey && e.keyCode === 'U'.charCodeAt(0))
          ) {
            e.preventDefault();
          }
        })

Now, immediately a lot to unpack with this. If you have no idea what you just read, don't worry, I'll explain it to you. (I've simplified it, so this is not programming advice, just basics)

window.addEventListener("contextmenu", (e) => { e.preventDefault(); }); prevents the context menu from opening. Pretty clear cut, honestly.

document.addEventListener("selectstart", (e) => { e.preventDefault(); }); prevents text from being selected. This is especially strange, considering the existence of user-select: none in CSS, but I guess they're really bringing the hammer down.

img.addEventListener('dragstart', function(e) { e.preventDefault(); }) prevents images from being dragged. Which again, very odd to see here considering draggable="false" in HTML or user-drag: none in CSS.

function ctrlShiftKey(e, keyCode) { return e.ctrlKey && e.shiftKey && e.keyCode === keyCode.charCodeAt(0); } checks whether you're pressing Ctrl, Shift, and a particular letter simultaneously. For example, Ctrl+Shift+I, which normally opens Developer Tools in Chromium-based browsers. It uses charCodeAt(0) to convert the letter into a number, because the OPSEC level here is fucking huge.

document.addEventListener('keydown', function(e) { if ( /* keys */ ) { e.preventDefault(); } is the pièce de résistance. This last chunk listens for keyboard shortcuts and attempts to block F12, Ctrl+Shift+I, Ctrl+Shift+J, Ctrl+Shift+C, and Ctrl+U. Basically, all the usual ways of opening Developer Tools or viewing the page's source code.

All together, they really, really don't want you inspecting the DOM. But too bad, they forgot to spam debugger. Every guard they put up can also be killed with an equally short script, like document.addEventListener('selectstart', e => e.stopImmediatePropagation(), true);.

EX3 Corporation JavaScript Tutoring over.

I also found:

<img src="//vinylmuse.store/cdn/shop/files/ChatGPT_Image_Aug_22_2026_at_11_26_06_AM.png?v=1787415985&amp;width=1946" width="1946" height="1946" class="image-magnify-none" sizes="(min-width: 1400px) 715px, (min-width: 990px) calc(55.0vw - 10rem), (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 11.5rem) / 2), calc(100vw / 1 - 4rem)">

From that filename, that's an image generated in ChatGPT on the 22nd of August, 2026. That's another date to keep in mind. Just to make sure I wasn't going crazy, I ran it against OpenAI's checker:

Generated with OpenAI tools

Straight from the horse's mouth. I wanted to see how many images on this site were AI, so I did some extremely master haxxor JavaScriptering:

[...document.images].filter(i => /chatgpt/i.test(decodeURIComponent((i.currentSrc || i.src).split('?')[0].split('/').pop()))).length

This is pretty simple and distilled JavaScript; all it does is count how many times the word "ChatGPT" appears in image elements. The result was 20. I didn't even see 20 images on the site.

Convinced this website is just slop, I did one more thing: ran a WHOIS lookup. The results came back:

Registrar WHOIS Server: whois.godaddy.com
Registrar URL: https://godaddy.com
Updated Date: 2026-08-26T21:44:25.161Z
Creation Date: 2026-08-21T21:43:18.264Z
Registry Expiry Date: 2027-08-21T21:43:18.264Z
Registrar: GoDaddy.com, LLC
Registrar IANA ID: 146

Registered 21 August 2026 under GoDaddy. Interesting. I'm sensing a bit of a regularity here...

Chapter 3: Review Forgery?

According to themselves, they have a 4.9/5 star rating from 137 reviews. Reviews that are conveniently not listed in bulk anywhere on the site. From the one I could find, from "Jessica M." in the hero, they said "I got the Arctic Monkeys set and I’m obsessed. Having all my favorite albums as tiny vinyls is such a cool idea!" and gave it a flatout 5 star rating.

Jessica M's 5 star review

Yeah, Jessica. Having a bunch of Happy Meal pucks larp as faux-vinyl records is such a cool idea oh my gosh gurl wow

Questioning the legitimacy of that, I Google Lens'd the profile picture...

"Jessica M" showing up over 6 times on Google Lens

...yeah. I mean, this could absolutely be a bona fide review, and the customer themselves put that image there, until I look at the "100+ orders in the last 24h" tablet.

"100+ orders in the last 24h" "HOT PRODUCT | LOW STOCK", depicting 3 photos of different people

You already know where that went...

Those 3 people all showing up overwhelmingly on Lens

And again, the customers could absolutely be stealing people off Facebook, but... really? Is that really a reasonable explanation I'm supposed to believe, given the AI-generated imagery, recycled Instagram slop, suspicious marketing tactics, and the fact that this entire operation seemingly materialised out of thin air two months ago? How many fucking coincidences am I supposed to entertain before I start questioning the legitimacy of the whole thing?

Chapter 4: The Product Itself

9 Color-Coded NFC Music Discs

What the fuck is this thing?

This is the setup guide they shared, which came back positive as OpenAI generated:

I'm not even typing this utter drivel

This looks so extremely complicated and bizarre. What the fuck is this thing?

So let me get this straight. You spend nearly A$95 on this glorified fridge ornament, plug it into your computer, manually source your own MP3 files, drag them into nine individually numbered folders, and THEN you get to put a tiny plastic disc on it to hear the music you already fucking had on your computer? The fuck?!

WHAT THE FUCK AM I PAYING FOR? This isn't a music player. This is a USB stick with a superiority complex.

And look at the bottom! "You need to upload your own MP3 files". So this Avicii-themed commemorative music collection doesn't even come with any fucking Avicii music! You have to bring the entire discography yourself! They've somehow reinvented the MP3 player, made it less convenient, added nine miniature coasters, and called this quasi-commemorative contraption a tribute to Avicii.

Okay. Simmer down. Deep breaths. I funnily found a pretty similar looking Amazon product:

Amazon item for $71.52

I'm not saying they're the same, but this looks veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrryyy similar to the AI slop above. But if they are, I guess the 32% extra cost is the artist's name on it or whatever.

Zooming out of the Avicii player, their entire store was the same thing with different artists on it:

A list of VinylMuse's items

This is pure lunacy. By their own admission, these are batteries-not-included music players, but the prices range from $87.13 to $94.39, on sale. And I doubt this is a true discount, I'm extremely certain this is that classic snake oil where they put up this discount to grab your attention. But if they're truly on sale right now, that means they were almost doubling the price of that Amazon item. Jesus...

Chapter 5: The Return Policy and The Law

Alright, enough staring at these glorified MP3-playing coasters. What happens if someone actually buys one, realises they've spent nearly a hundred Australian dollars on a music player that doesn't come with any fucking music, and wants their money back?

Well, let's have a look at VinylMuse's refund policy!

At first glance, it's pretty normal. They say you have 30 days from delivery to request a return, the item must be unused and in its original packaging, and you need to email them at vinylmuse@outlook.com for approval before sending anything back. Fair enough. Pretty standard stuff.

But then I got to the Non-returnable items section.

And I quote:

Sale or promotional items (final sale) (sic)

Hang on a minute. Remember that product catalogue I showed you earlier? The one where every single product was supposedly discounted by either 35% or 40%?

Every single product is on sale. The Avicii player? 35% off. Arctic Monkeys? 40% off. Amy Winehouse? 35% off. Dolly Parton? 40% off. The entire collection is covered in discounts.

So, let me get this straight. You advertise a 30-day return window, but you also say sale items are final sale, and then you put every product in your visible catalogue on sale? The fuck is the policy for then?

Is there some secret underground collection of full-price miniature vinyl players that I haven't discovered yet? Do I need to enter the Konami code to unlock the refundable merchandise?

Because as far as I can tell, under their own stated conditions, none of the eight products I inspected would qualify for an ordinary change-of-mind return. And remember, I'm talking about their store policy here, not whatever consumer protection rights might apply under the law. A company can't simply write away statutory rights because it feels like it.

But wait! There's more! Under Return shipping costs, they explain that the customer is responsible for return postage, carrier fees, packaging, and any customs duties, taxes, or handling fees. They also recommend paying for tracking and insurance because they won't accept responsibility for lost return shipments.

And they don't provide prepaid return labels. Now, that's not automatically unusual for change-of-mind returns. But here's something I found interesting: the policy doesn't actually tell you where you're supposed to return the product.

You have to email them first, get approval, and wait for instructions. So if you're an Australian customer, you have absolutely no idea from this policy whether you're returning your A$94.39 music-playing fridge ornament to somewhere in Australia or halfway across the fucking planet.

Wonderful. They do make an exception for defective, damaged, or incorrect products, saying they'll cover return shipping if you contact them within seven days of delivery with photos. That's better, although a seven-day reporting condition doesn't necessarily override your legal rights if the product is faulty.

And then there's this little masterpiece. Under Non-returnable items, they list:

Order cancellations

Immediately followed by:

You may cancel your order for a full refund within 24 hours of purchase, provided it has not yet shipped.

So cancellations are non-refundable, except when they're refundable. Right. Glad we've cleared that up.

To be fair, I can understand what they're trying to say. They apparently allow cancellations within 24 hours if the order hasn't shipped. But putting that directly beneath a list declaring order cancellations non-refundable is certainly a choice.

Finally, their contact section consists of the business name and an Outlook email address. No physical return address, no telephone number, and no identifiable business operator in the policy itself.

Now, none of those things individually proves anything sinister. Plenty of small businesses use ordinary email providers, and not every online store offers free returns. But look at the bigger picture. We've got a newly registered storefront, AI-generated product imagery, suspicious testimonials, recycled Instagram advertisements, an Avicii-themed MP3 player that requires you to supply your own Avicii music, and an entire catalogue supposedly on sale. And now we've got a refund policy that excludes sale items. The discounts attract you to the products, and the very fact that they're discounted apparently disqualifies them from the store's standard return policy.

I don't know whether that's intentional, an oversight, or just somebody copying and pasting a refund policy without thinking about what it actually says. But holy fucking shit, it does not inspire confidence.

And here's where things start getting potentially illegal. Let's start with Australia, because that's where I live. Under the Australian Consumer Law, businesses cannot simply refuse refunds or other legally required remedies for faulty, defective, or misdescribed products because they're on sale. Flatout. The Australian Competition and Consumer Commission specifically warns businesses against blanket statements like "no refunds on sale items", because they can mislead customers about their statutory consumer rights. You can read more about that here and here.

But that's Australian law, right? Well, let's hop across the Pacific and meet the Federal Trade Commission, the American agency responsible for protecting consumers against deceptive business practices.

Under Section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act, unfair or deceptive commercial practices are prohibited. And the FTC has some rather interesting things to say about fake discounts.

According to its Guides Against Deceptive Pricing, a business cannot simply invent a higher original price to make its products appear heavily discounted. The advertised former price must represent a genuine previous offer, made honestly and in good faith. You can read about that here.

Remember how every single product in VinylMuse's catalogue supposedly costs $145.32 before being discounted by either 35% or 40%? Yeah. That.

Now, I haven't established whether these products were ever genuinely offered at that price. Perhaps they were. But considering the domain was only registered on August 21, 2026, I'd be very interested in seeing some evidence of that pricing history. And while we're discussing the FTC, remember those questionable customer reviews from Chapter 3?

Well, the FTC introduced its Rule on the Use of Consumer Reviews and Testimonials, which took effect on October 21, 2024. Among other things, it prohibits businesses from creating or purchasing fake customer reviews and knowingly disseminating certain false testimonials. Read more here. So, if those suspicious reviews turn out to be fabricated, that could present another rather serious legal problem.

Now, American law generally permits businesses to exclude discounted merchandise from voluntary change-of-mind returns. The FTC concerns here are primarily about potentially misleading pricing and testimonials, rather than the final-sale clause itself. And before somebody accuses me of declaring this business guilty of seventeen federal offences, I'm not claiming to have established that VinylMuse has violated either country's laws. I haven't verified their historical prices, confirmed whether their testimonials are fabricated, or established precisely where the business operates. What I have established is that their marketing and refund policy raise questions that are directly relevant to consumer protection laws in both countries.

And all of this is happening on a website selling miniature MP3 players that don't even come with any fucking music.

Chapter 6: Conclusion

Well lads, I think I've seen enough. What started as me stumbling across a bizarre Instagram advertisement featuring Avicii has turned into a rather depressing journey through AI-generated imagery, recycled social media content, questionable customer testimonials, suspicious discounts, and a refund policy that apparently can't decide whether it wants to accept returns. Let's recap what I've found.

The Instagram account behind these advertisements, @levels.legacy, was created in August 2026. Since then, it's been pumping out promotional content, including the same peculiar video of a woman in IKEA dropping a Monster Energy can, reposted multiple times with different captions. The account has accumulated 161 posts in less than two months. Which amounts to about posting three times a day.

The website, vinylmuse.store, was registered on August 21, 2026. Its product catalogue features AI-generated imagery, including files literally named ChatGPT_Image_...png. I found 20 image elements referencing filenames containing ChatGPT, and OpenAI's own provenance tools identified at least some of the imagery as AI-generated.

The website also contains JavaScript intended to interfere with right-clicking, selecting text, dragging images, and opening developer tools through common keyboard shortcuts. Which is frankly puerile, because I got into the developer tools anyway by clicking a fucking menu.

Then there are the reviews. The store advertises a 4.9 star rating from 137 reviews, while some of the photographs associated with its testimonials appear elsewhere on the internet. That doesn't conclusively prove the reviews are fabricated, but it certainly gives me reason to question their authenticity.

And then we get to the actual product.

For approximately A$94.39, VinylMuse will sell you an Avicii-themed miniature music player with tiny NFC-enabled discs.

Does it come with Avicii's music?

NO! You have to provide your own MP3 files and organise them into numbered folders yourself. The central selling point of this supposedly artist-themed product is something the customer has to supply. It's a USB stick with a superiority complex.

And the price? I found a remarkably similar-looking generic music player on Amazon Australia for approximately A$71.52. That doesn't establish that the hardware is identical, but it does make VinylMuse's pricing look rather ambitious. Especially considering every product I inspected was supposedly discounted by either 35% or 40% from the exact same A$145.32 original price.

Then, to complete this magnificent circus, the refund policy declares sale items final sale. Every product I inspected was on sale. I'll let you work that one out.

Now, I want to be absolutely clear about something. I haven't established that VinylMuse is definitively a scam. I haven't proven that its customer reviews are fabricated, that its discounts are fictitious, or that the business has violated any laws. Those are questions that would require further evidence. What I have established is that this storefront has enough questionable practices, inconsistencies, and extraordinary marketing decisions to make me deeply uncomfortable with the idea of giving it my money.

But... Tim. Tim, I lost you when I was 10. You were my childhood hero... I was first exposed to you at like 5. I didn't know shit about the industry, I was pretty oblivious to how pained you were, I had no idea about record labels, licensing agreements, IP, or the machinery behind it all. But you still meant the world to me. And you were my first time experiencing loss. Loss of someone I looked up to. I still remember hearing the bad news. I can't remember if I cried, but I was really never the same.

So perhaps you can understand why I didn't particularly enjoy opening Instagram and seeing his name and likeness being used to advertise what appears to be a generic novelty MP3 player, surrounded by synthetic imagery and dubious marketing. The feeling that somebody looked at an artist who meant so much to millions of people, saw a recognisable name and a marketable aesthetic, and thought "damn, we can sell the shit out of this". Preserving the dignity and legacy of an artist like Tim is paramount. Turning his memory into a marketing gimmick is precisely what makes this whole thing so upsetting.

Maybe I've spent far too much time investigating a silly Instagram advertisement. This has gone so off-the-rails.

Tim, I really don't know who I miss more, my childhood dog or you. I think it would be you. Hell, I'm even tearing up typing this. I really fuckin' miss you, man.

Okay, uhh, that's all. See you guys in the next one...

Levels