Dustings #149
/I’m sure the new daughter-in-law was thrilled.
“How foolish of me to think the focus would be on us and the magic of our love, when your father has a stack of Rubik’s Cube cards set up for the Out to Lunch principle.”
You might say, “Oh, Andy. They probably asked him to perform.”
Nope. He states it pretty clearly: he’s going to perform if he gets the urge.
By the way, this picture is pretty much the exact opposite of the Carefree Philosophy in action. Imagine loading yourself up with SEVEN different packs and stacks of cards to attend your son’s wedding. Surely one deck and a little impromptu material could have been enough to embarrass yourself, yes?
I pray you weren’t the best man.
The priest: “May I have the rings, please?”
You: “Aww… hmm. Shit. They’re here somewhere. Is this it? No, that’s a rubber band. I remember taking them out of my jacket to make room for Cinemental, which many people consider a blockbuster two-phase mentalism routine that will leave your spectators begging for a sequel. They’re here somewhere. If not, they’re in the room. Yeah. They’re probably in the room. I’ll grab them later when I go get my Fart-Toon deck.”
On the Mountebank thread the Magic Cafe we have someone making this point a couple of times:
Here’s a tighter version that keeps the bite but makes the argument flow a little cleaner:
Now, I can’t comment on Mountebank because I don’t own it, although I’ll probably pick it up at some point.
But what I can comment on is putting a business card in your wallet.
Let me put your mind at ease: it isn’t “illogical.” It doesn’t “scream oddness.” There are basically two things people do with business cards, and one of them is put them in their wallet. Only a magician could convince himself that putting a card back where it came from is some glaring breach of normal human behavior.
I spent 500 days testing peek wallets and breaking down every part of the process with spectators. This was never an issue.
Treat writing down the word, putting the card away in the wallet, and then putting the wallet away as nothing more than laying the groundwork for the interesting thing you’re about to get to.
“We’ll get back to that later if we need it.”
You’re simply establishing a target—a word, image, number, whatever—then getting it out of the way so you can move on to the good stuff. That’s all. It’s perfectly reasonable.
This is actually a great book for the beginning ventriloquist. It teaches you how to make… that thing, and then hands you an immediate reason to drill your labials—because the only thing that will make sense coming out of that dummy’s mouth is “Please kill me.”
“Tleaze kill ne.”