Tweak-End: Paul Harris' Son of Stunner

If, as discussed in the previous post, Paul Harris’ magic is “mental rape to the highest order,” the ideas discussed in this post may elevate this particular effect to a “mental gang rape” which I’m guessing is even a finer “compliment.”

From the True Astonishments Box Set, Paul Harris’ Son of Stunner is really a wonder of construction. You have three big moments: a prediction, a Triumph effect, and a color changing deck and it’s really just one technique used that accomplishes all of this.

If you’re unfamiliar with the trick, here it is performed by Bro Gilbert.

I performed this for a while after the release of True Astonishments. The reactions I got were good, but I felt they should have been better.

The prediction was well received, but the Triumph and color change phases weren’t as strong. And certainly not as strong as those effects had they been performed on their own.

And I realized that while the construction of the trick was clever methodologically, it could be better in performance.

In the True Astonishments DVD, Paul and/or Bro Gilbert kind of acknowledge this, making the point that the prediction effect often overshadows the Triumph that follows it. And they’re 100% right. The prediction takes people’s focus so much off the deck that when the cards right themselves, then change color, it’s easy for them to think maybe you switched the deck or did something while they were distracted by the first part of the trick. (Watch the demo video at 3:38 and you’ll see the woman going on about the prediction part of the effect. This is before the other two phases. Obviously no one is paying very keen attention to the deck at that moment.)

This is compounded by the fact that the patter Bro uses (and I used at the time) is that he did the switch the deck. The problem with that presentation is that it would actually be quite possible to switch the deck for real while the audience is distracted with the first part of the effect. And I think this is clear to laypeople as well. So the reaction I was getting was a “wow” for the prediction, followed by and “oh, neat” for the two latter phases. If they genuinely believe it’s possible you switched the deck, then obviously the fact that it’s a different color or the cards have been reoriented isn’t that impressive. And beyond that, the impact of the prediction can diminish because they might think, “Oh, maybe in the first deck, all the face-down cards were the 10 of Spades.” (Or whatever the prediction card was.)

My friend, AC, is a big fan of this effect and has come up with some tweaks to the presentation that I think account for these issues and strengthen the effect and he’s allowed me to share them with you.

A Celebration of Specialness

This first presentation changes the order of the phases, putting the Triumph first.

The revelation in a Triumph effect hits hardest the closer it comes to the audience seeing the deck (apparently) mixed up. In the original SOS, that revelation comes after the prediction, and is weakened because of that time delay. Here it happens immediately.

Here’s how my friend perform is.

He writes a prediction then gives it to the spectator to hold. He talks about one of the cards in the deck being “special.” What does this mean exactly? He doesn’t say. He shuffles the deck face-up into face-down. Then he says, “The special card is one of the face-down cards. Try to stop at the one that feels special. It won’t look different. It will look just like all the others, so you’ll just have to go by feel.” This reinforces that all the backs look the same.

The spectator stops him and he sets that card face-down right in front of them.

“Do you know why it’s special,” he asks. They say no, and he says, “because it’s the only face-down card.” Then he does a big wide ribbon spread of the face-up deck.

Now he brings up the prediction. “What also makes it special is that it’s the one card I wrote down before we even started.” He turns over the card and the spectator opens the prediction. Boom. Second big moment.

Then he turns very corny and says softly, “But you know…it’s not the only special thing here. You’re special. I’m special. That lamp is special. And each and every one of these cards is special. They’re all unique in their own way.” And with that he starts turning over the cards one at a time, and then en masse, to show they all have different backs (Joshua Jay’s Prism Deck).

The triumph portion hits harder than the original because it’s the first moment of magic, and it’s not following a stronger moment. So it’s not anti-climactic. And because it happens right after they see the deck mixed face-up and face-down.

The color change is stronger as well because they have no reasonable explanation for how it happened. You’re not talking about deck switches, and that won’t occur to spectators either because the deck is spread wide across the table making it impossible to switch.

The presentation is more fun as well. Find the “special” card. And then it becomes like a cheesy commercial from the ad council about how everyone is special and unique in their own way. It’s not intended to be a deep or meaningful presentation, but it’s a cohesive one. The original presentation is kind of a mish-mash of ideas. “I predicted the card. And the cards are marked. And also I switched the deck.” Huh? It doesn’t make a whole ton of sense. Here the consistent thematic presentation of “specialness” justifies doing them all together.

The Ackerman Home Invasion

This is a presentation I worked on with AC. It follows the same structure as the original trick: Prediction. Triumph. Color Change. But here we’re going to take some steps to make “he switched the deck” seem to be a truly fantastic explanation, rather than a rational one.

The name is a nod to a past presentation I wrote up here that mined similar territory.

You write the prediction on a piece of paper and have someone put it in their pocket.

You go through the trick up until the point the selection is made. You turn over their selection and note what it is. Then you place it at the back of the deck, oriented with the rest of the cards and immediately hand the deck to the spectator to hold.

You say, “Just a second,” and grab the table edge and grimace like you’re exerting a lot of effort.

“Ok,” you say. “I think that worked. Can I see the prediction I made?”

The prediction is removed and opened and you show that you accurately predicted the card they’d stop at.

“Do you want to know how that’s done?” you ask. “Simple. I didn’t actually write anything on this paper before I gave it to you. Then… after you selected the card, I froze time. Then, while everything in the world was paused, except for me, I went in your pocket removed the blank paper, wrote the prediction, and put it back in your pocket.

“You don’t believe me. I knew you wouldn’t believe me. That’s why, while time was frozen, I also fixed the deck so every card faces the same way.”

You take the deck from them and spread it face up.

“You’re still skeptical. Wow. Why do I even bother teaching you something if you’re not going to believe me. Well, I knew you’d be like this, so I did one other thing to prove I stopped time.” You pick up the random card on the end of the face-up spread. “You see this 3 of Diamonds? I actually went next door and grabbed a 3 of Diamonds from a deck in their house and swapped it with the one in the deck you were holding.”

You turn the single card over to show a different back.

Obviously this one card with a different back doesn’t feel like it’s proof of much of anything.

You pick up the next card, “And this 4 of Spades? I got this from the house on the other side. And this 8 of Diamonds from across the street.” You turn over the cards to reveal completely different back designs.

“In fact, I went to 52 different houses in the neighborhood and grabbed a single card from whatever deck they happened to have, making an entirely new deck of random cards,” you say as you turn over all the cards to show 52 different backs.

The benefits of this variation are:

• Handing the deck to the person directly following the selection greatly strengthens the Triumph and the color change phases as the deck is clearly out of your hands even when their attention is diverted to the prediction.

• The second and third phases are connected presentationally to the first. It’s not just a random mashing together of effects based on method.

• I particularly like the idea of a rainbow deck being composed of a card stolen from 52 houses in the neighborhood while time was paused.

As mentioned, Son of Stunner can be found in the True Astonishments set or as an individual download. Use promo code JERX52 and you’ll save 20% and help support the site. Just kidding. You ain’t saving shit, and nobody is giving me any kickback for damn sure. But it’s a trick worth knowing so track it down if you don’t already own it.

[Edit: It seems that promo code actually works now. Do I have the power to manifest Vanishing Inc promo codes into existence? If I’d known that I would have conjured up a larger savings on a product that most everyone reading this didn’t already own. Hmmm… Well… let’s see what happens. Did you know you can get Joshua Jay’s Balance buy one get one free? Just use promo code: WHATAMIGOINGTODOWITHTWOOFTHEESE2019 ]

Dustings of Woofle #13

So imagine this. I have a bag and in the bag are 100 slips of paper. On each piece of paper is a different animal. You pull out a slip of paper and it says, “Tiger.” I reveal my prediction and it reads, “Tiger.”

Okay, next scenario. There are 100 animal names on a list in front of you. I ask you to name any animal you see there. You say, “Tiger.” I open my prediction and it reads, “Tiger.”

Which is stronger?

I think most of us would agree that the second version is stronger, where the spectator is making a free (open) choice rather than the first one where the spectator is making a random (blind) selection.

Now let’s change the second scenario. Now they’re making a free choice between just two animals. Is that still more impressive than the random selection of 1 in 100 animals? Probably not.

So let’s start with that premise…

1 in 100 free choice vs 1 in 100 random selection
Free choice is more impressive.

1 in 2 free choice vs 1 in 100 random selection
Random selection is more impressive.

The question is, when do these cross over? How many objects need to be in play before the free choice is as impressive as the random selection? 50? 25? Even less?

We’ve been focus group testing this in multiple sessions all year and the results will be in the October X-Communication newsletter.

By looking at the results of the testing we at least have a starting point in understanding a number of things:

1. To what extent do spectator’s value a free choice over a blind choice/random selection? (This can give you some sense on what to focus on when creating an effect.)

2. What is the point of diminishing returns when it comes to potential choices in a free selection? I think we all understand that a 1 in 50 prediction is significantly stronger than a 1 in 2 prediction. But it’s also probably fair to say that a 1 in a million selection is not quantifiably more impossible to lay people than a 1 in 1000 free selection. So how many objects have to be in play before the impossibility of an effect starts to level off?

3. How much more impossible does an effect with a free selection seem if you’re making the selection vs. someone else?

Just some questions to consider for now. The full write-up will come in the next newsletter.

---

I’m positive I mentioned this before, but it might have been in a draft post that ended up not being published, because I can’t find it anywhere. The consulting service experiment that I launched about a month ago is ending in October which is when I will have processed all the current orders. (So no new ones after this point.)

The reason is that it was just too time consuming. My theory, that I could squeeze in thinking about people’s questions/projects in a short period of time, once a day for a week, didn’t end up working well. Either I’d hit upon an interesting idea which I’d then spend a bunch of time working on, or I wouldn’t hit on a good idea, so I’d spend more time on the project in hopes that I would. So what was supposed to be a cumulative two hours of time ended up being much more.

I will continue on with the consulting for those who already have a session booked. But after that I’m taking my ideas, putting them in a bag, and going home.

---

Since this post appeared I’ve received a few emails from people saying that they’ve been spotting tipped over traffic cones around where they live.

No, this is not a coordinated effort from me. And no, I don’t believe it’s some sort of sign. I think it’s just the case that traffic cones get knocked over pretty regularly and you never had any reason to pay attention to that fact before reading that post.

But now it’s infected your mind and you won’t be able to see one without thinking of this site. You can consider it me saying hello. Give it a wave when you see one.

Your wife: “Honey, why did you wave at that knocked over traffic cone.”

You: “Because it’s my magic blogging friend!”

She’s like…

And maybe you’ll get committed. In fact, if all of us do that, we might be locked up together in a psychiatric ward to study our mass delusion.

This is my convoluted way of organizing the first Jerx Magic Convention.

---

I found this in Paul Harris’ book, A Close Up Kinda Guy. It’s an oddly intense description of what most people would consider a fairly whimsical style of magic.

The fuck?

I wish I could have been there when they were crafting this charming description.

“Can I say Paul Harris’ magic is a real mindfuck?”

“No.”

“Why not? Because it uses the F-word?”

“No. Because it suggests it’s consensual.”

“Oh, good point. How about I call it ‘mental rape’?”

“Bleh. Too bland. Then people will think it’s just ordinary, everyday mental rape type stuff.”

“Mental rape to the highest power?”

“Bingo! Now that’s the exact perfect phrasing we should use to start off Paul’s new book!”

---

The Sally Andy Trick

Joe Mckay sent me an email that mentioned a test that is done to assess a child’s “Theory of Mind.” That is, their ability to understand that other people have a perspective that is different than their own.

Here is a description of the test…

---

I think it’s interesting that a test that’s so simple might be able to tell us something so profound about what is or isn’t going on in someone’s head.

I thought there might be some sort of interesting premise for a trick to be found in this test. And, if so, I assumed that trick would have a psychological aspect to it. A trick that would perhaps enlighten and educate the audience in regards to their abilities of perception.

But then after ruminating on the idea for a week or so I thought, “Oh. Actually, that would be a funny presentation for the vanishing coke bottle.”

I didn’t get a chance to try it out for a while because I don’t have a vanishing bottle of any type, but this weekend I was visiting a friend who des and I got to try it out for someone.

You need two small paper bags, a marker, a vanishing bottle, and a real bottle that looks close enough to the gimmick.

I was showing the trick to my friend’s brother, Rich. I mentioned the Sally Anne test but not by name. I just asked him if he remembered taking that test in school that they use to assess your “theory of mind.” Of course, he didn’t, because I don’t think this is actually a common thing. So I went on to describe the test, but not too clearly. This gave me an excuse to get some props and give him a proper demonstration.

I went to the other room and grabbed everything. The vanishing Coke bottle was compressed in one of the folded bags. I set the real Coke bottle on the table. I wrote Sally on the bag with the gimmick in it, and Anne on the other bag. Unfolded and opened both and set them on the table.

I grabbed a couple stuffed animals from his daughter’s room to represent Sally and Anne.

I put the real bottle in Sally’s bag (next to the gimmick). I then told the “story” of the test. Sally leaves (I knock her off the table). Anne goes over and steals the Coke from Sally’s bag and puts it in her own (the gimmick). Sally returns (I pick her up and waddle her along the table).

“Where will Sally look for the Coke?” I asked.

“In her own bag,” Rich said.

“Right. Exactly. So you passed the Sally Anne test. And that shows you have a Theory of Mind. But in actuality, where is the Coke?”

“In Anne’s bag,” he said.

“Oh, noooooo,” I said, with over-the-top fake concern. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

He gave me a confused look.

“I’m so sorry. But you failed the Andy Test.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that test?” he asked.

“That’s the test I give to see if you’re a fucking braindead idiot,” I said, while tapping my finger repeatedly against my temple.

I pulled the bottle out of Sally’s bag and crumpled up Anne’s.

---

I might not use that exact closing line if I was performing for a stranger, but it’s fine when performing for friends. Unless your friends suck and get all worked up over stupid shit. No, you don’t want to come off as a prick when you do magic. But if your asshole-ness is way over the top, then it loops around again and it just becomes funny, not legitimately mean or condescending.

Dear Jerxy: The Google Conundrum

Dear Jerxy: I was with a group in Vegas last week and a magician performed Michel Huot’s Sock trick for us. The trick was a success by any standard and got a great reaction, but after he left, two people in my group googled socks magic trick and there in the first link was where you could buy the product. (At least it wasn’t an explanation on youtube…yet).

In today’s post you said that a “benign mystery” is as positive thing in people’s life. How do you reconcile that with the idea that more and more people are trying to destroy the mystery by searching for explanations online?

Signed,
Searching for Answers About Searching for Answers in SeaTac

Dear Searching: Ok. A couple things here. Magicians, admittedly, had a nice system until about the mid-90s. Secrets were fairly well hidden. Anyone with an interest in magic and a library card could find out the fundamentals of the art, but it took some work to get to the “good stuff.” It was a simpler time. Magicians would write strongly worded letters to the editor in Genii magazine if Mac King taught a magic trick going into the commercial break on a TV special. It was quaint. I can only hope, for their sake, those people died before a time—just 15 years later—when every layperson would have the secret to every magic trick in their pocket.

It’s a completely different world now in magic. That’s easy to forget because everything has changed in that time. Not just magic.

I grew up in the early 90s, jacking off to Redbook magazine because that’s what was in the house. Or searching the scrambled porn channel in hopes of finding a stray titty. Kids today don’t even know what the concept of “scrambled” porn is. They can see any type of porn, any time of day, whenever they want.

We have easy access to everything now. It feels good. But we’re like the guy in the Twilight Zone who thinks having everything he wants is heaven, until he realizes he’s actually in “the other place.”

Okay, I’m working my way around to your question. I just want us firmly rooted in the world we live in. There are those people who say, “If someone tries to figure out your trick it’s because you’re not good/entertaining enough,” or some horsehshit like that. That’s ridiculous. If people in the 1960s had a book in their pocket with all of magic’s secrets in it, they would watch Dai Vernon, they’d ooh and ahh, then they’d think, “I can’t wait to look that up in my book!” This is human nature.

So you show someone a trick and then they google it. This seems to suggest they don’t want to be fooled or they aren’t looking for the feeling of long-term mystery. If so, what’s the point of performing for people?

I’m going to help you reframe this.

There are a couple parts to this…

Part One

The first thing to recognize is that the feeling of mystery is, at first, uncomfortable for people. For someone seeing a trick that offers no Easy Answers, their initial reaction is going to be to try and “figure it out” no matter how charming and delightful you, the trick, and the presentation may be.

What I’ve found is some people don’t realize they want “mystery” until they’ve experienced it. They think the game is: He shows me a trick and I do whatever I can to come up with an explanation for how the trick was done. It’s only once they experience something that feels “truly impossible” that they understand the positives of that.

I have a number of people in my life now who will come to me asking to see a trick and just take the whole thing in like they’re taking a drug. Like they’re mainlining mystery. But they didn’t start off that way. They were just as skeptical and stand-offish about being taken in with a trick as your average audience member. With repeated exposure to strong magic, they saw the benefit of just giving themselves over to the experience and not fighting it. The biggest reason for that is because I became better at making it clear that it was a safe environment. The trick wasn’t meant to be a challenge. So many magicians seem to be getting off on fooling their audience, and then they wonder why people fight being fooled.

There are certainly some people who just can’t stand the feeling of not knowing how something is done and will never give themselves over to a truly mysterious interaction. That’s fine. I may still show them the occasional trick from time to time if they want, I just won’t waste a big immersive presentation on them. I’ll show them some clever card tricks or a quick visual thing. Something they can have their guard up for but still appreciate.

(In the Fall issue of the newsletter for supporters of the site, I will give you some things to say that I’ve found to be strongly coercive in getting people to embrace mystery rather than fight it. I have a few different approaches I take and I’ll write them each out in a way you can adapt for your own use, if you’re so inclined.)

Part Two

The second thing to understand is that a trick doesn’t become a real mystery until people have exhausted their resources to figure it out. And Google is the primary resource people use to figure stuff out. So googling something doesn’t mean they’re anti-mystery. It just means they’re processing the trick. For a trick to have any meaning, people need to process it critically.

Think of it like this: Imagine a guy finds a big diamond just sitting on the street. At least, it looks like a diamond. But if it’s real it must be worth a fortune. So what does he do? He takes it to a jeweler or gemologist to find out if it’s real. That seems logical, right? You wouldn’t say, “Hey, if he wants it to be a real diamond, why is he testing it?” That would be a ridiculous statement. Putting it through the process to see if it’s real is how you assess its value.

Similarly, people will test an impossibility in the same way. If they google bill lemon magic trick they’ll get, literally, eight million results. It doesn’t matter which version of bill in lemon you did. They don’t care about the specific method, they just want to know if what they saw is common and explainable or if it’s something stranger.

In life, I always resort to the idea of turning your weaknesses into strengths. The internet has made what were once closely guarded secrets fairly easily available. And if you pick up a trendy effect from Ellusionist, your trick may be fun and fooling, but it will not withstand 15 seconds of research by a seriously interested spectator.

But you can work around that. You can create your own material. You can search for obscure effects in books and magazines. You can reframe tricks and put them in new contexts. Among other techniques to make your magic less googleable.

Because what happens if they google a trick and find… nothing? Then you’ve turned the power of this machine that has all the answers against them. Now they have to process this, “Not only do I not know how he did that, but I can’t find any evidence that such a thing can even be done. Wait… what exactly did I just see?”

A Parable

The other day, I parked my car in front of one of the cafes I regularly visit and work out of.

About 20 feet in front of me, I noticed something at the base of a street sign. It was a clear, lucite box, that looked to be about 18 inches in length. Inside the box was a glowing, orange sphere, the size of a basketball, floating in the middle of the box. It looked amazing. More amazing than I'm describing. The orange sphere glowed in an unreal way; it almost looked molten. It seemed computer-generated. It reminded me of something you'd see in a movie. Some sort of "alien substance" that had been captured in a clear box.

I sat in my car and looked at it for a full minute, trying to fathom what it could be.

What made it extra strange is that the people who walked by paid it no attention. I'm not saying they noticed it and then quickly dismissed it, I'm saying they didn't even seem to notice this box on the ground, with a glowing, floating, orange ball. Even if there was a logical explanation for the box, and the glow, and the floating orb—if it was some weird discarded lamp or something—you would still think it would draw a second glance from people, but they literally ignored it completely.

For a moment I thought, "Am I the only one that sees this? Am I hallucinating this?" That's how impossible it all felt.

So I got out of my car and approached the glowing orb. As I walked toward it, the perspective I expected didn't match up with what I saw and I knew something was strange. In a couple steps the mystery would be solved. And it was. But I'm going to make you wait a few seconds for the answer.

when i catch sight of your face
and the late light falling on it
i feel scared and i scope the area out for a good place to hide
when i feel the way your fingers
wiggle in my palm
i feel warm and i feel good inside

and i know that you're wearing a wire
but as the sun becomes a blazing orange ball of fire
i lose interest in this and other such inconsequential questions

when you kick off your shoes
and i see the wet grass give way underneath your feet
and the sunset rears up once more to its burial ground
well, you look so sweet

and i know you'll be turning me in
but i also know your real name's not amy lynn
and as the orange globe rears up to swallow us, too,
i see you look at me and figure out what i know about you
well, i'm not telling
i'm not telling you anything

I made my way toward the molten, floating ball of mystery and realized what it was.

A traffic cone knocked on its side.

What I thought was a clear, lucite three dimensional box—through which I could see the shadowed grass around the trees—was actually just the opaque, flat black bottom of the traffic cone. What I perceived as a perfect sphere was the inside of a cone. The "molten" look was a combination of the way the sunlight hit it and the dirty inside of the cone. Everything that seemed incredible had a perfectly dumb explanation. It was so stupid. I laughed thinking how amazing it had looked.

This picture was taken the next day, and the sun and the shadows were a little different, but you still may be able to get a sense for what I saw and how I interpreted it.

It had a bit of that optical illusion going on where you're looking inward at something, but your brain perceives it as coming outward.

So I was looking into a cone, but seeing a sphere.

I took this incident as a sign from the universe. The universe had shown me a magic trick and then exposed it to me.

I imagined another scenario. One where—before I could get out of my car—a van had driven up between me and the object and had pulled it inside and then left. I never would have had my answer. I would have remembered that mysterious glowing ball in the back of my mind somewhere for forever. Who were the men in that van? Some sort of secret government agency? And what did they do with that ball! I can only hope they're harnessing its awesome power for good and not evil.

Finding out it was just a traffic cone satisfied one part of my brain. The rational, “everything has an explanation” part. But I wish I could be telling you the story of the impossible glowing orb, rather than the story of the overturned traffic cone.

In life there is the shit we understand. Then there is the stuff most of us don't really understand because it's too complicated like computers and quantum physics. And then there are big, daunting mysteries that are overwhelming and potentially scary, like what happens after we die or what is the true nature of the universe.

What we don’t have enough of in life are little benign mysteries. I think it's a good thing for people to have experiences that are unexplainable without being unsettling. What magic tricks can do—presented expertly and engagingly without ego—is give people something they can find almost nowhere else: a pleasant enigma.

The Law of First Introduction

This is a pretty simple concept in execution, but I'm going to have a hard time explaining it, I think.

The basic idea in one sentence is this:

For the social magician, instead of offering to show someone a trick, and then going into the presentation, you should instead go into the presentation and then, at some point, offer to show them a trick.

This is something I call The Law of First Introduction.

Whatever is introduced first—the premise or the trick—is what the audience will see as most important. And what the audiences sees as most important will define the potential impact of the interaction.

If I offer to show you a trick, then I've already put a ceiling on your expectations for the interaction. This interaction is now about a magic trick. And any presentation I lay on after that is really just there as an excuse to show you that trick. So you're not going to get too caught up in any of that. In fact, you might have the feeling of "let's just get to the trick," because you realize the presentation is nothing more than window dressing.

It would be similar to if I said, "Do you want to hear a joke?" You wouldn't get too wrapped up in the particulars of anything I said after that, because you would be putting it in the context of a joke.

For most people, a magic trick isn't a super consequential thing. It's something of a "minor wonder." So if a magic trick forms the boundaries of their experience, it might be fun and impressive, but it's probably not going to be very profound.

However, magic premises are often deep wonders. They may be things like: fate, luck, the power of belief, mind-control, etc. The space these concepts can take up in someone's imagination can be vast as long as they're not seen as just an excuse to show them a magic trick.

I have a feeling I'm not explaining this well. The concept is kind of ethereal, even though the suggestion I'm making is purely practical.

Let me try and phrase it another way.

---

Imagine these two scenarios.

Scenario One

We meet up and I have a deck of cards in my hand. I ask you if you'd like to see a trick. You say, "Sure." I have you shuffle the deck and I ask you if you think coincidences are meaningful. Have you experienced a big coincidence? “Well... get ready for another one,” I tell you.

You would correctly interpret this as a card trick with a coincidence theme. And that's going to fit in the "card trick" sized space in your imagination. Let's imagine that space as being the size of a baseball.

Scenario Two

We're hanging out and I tell you I've been reading up on coincidences. I ask you the biggest coincidence you can remember from your life and I share a couple too. Then I say, “I was actually reading an article that said some people attract coincidences. Like there are coincidence-prone people, apparently.” You suggest it’s probably not true. It’s probably just that certain people have their radar up for coincidences and others don’t. The ones that do would tend to see more coincidences. “Yeah, good point," I say. "The article had an experiment you could try that would supposedly tell you if you were a coincidence-attractor. It uses a deck of cards or a handful of change… or… actually, hold on a minute.” I step out of the room for a couple minutes and come back with a deck of cards. “Here… we’ll try it out on you.”

Now, because I've introduced the premise first, the interaction is not limited to being just "patter" for a card trick. Instead, the limits of the experience are defined by this bigger concept of "coincidences"—what they are, if they have meaning, when does something go beyond coincidence, etc. Let's say this concept takes up a basketball-sized piece of your imagination. Then, at some point during the interaction, when I show you a trick related to coincidence (whether I call it a trick or a demonstration, test, experiment, or whatever), that baseball-sized chunk of mystery is just part of the larger basketball sized concept.

Is that just more confusing? Shit.

---

I'll tell you when this concept really solidified for me. There is a trick in The JAMM #8 called The Deja Vu Method. I was performing the trick for a while and getting great reactions, but then I made a change to the presentation and really dialed the responses up a notch.

Initially I would just ask someone if they wanted to see a trick and then go into the effect. In that case it's just a card trick with a deja vu theme.

Then I changed how I would get into it. I'd walk into a room and be like, "Oh... weird. I'm getting super strong deja vu." This would spark a short conversation on the subject. And then—as an afterthought—I would mention this trick or "psychological game" about inducing deja vu and I'd go off to grab a deck of cards so I could show them. And the reactions were consistently much stronger this way.

The key is we had a genuine interaction about the subject first.

There's a big difference between, "I'm talking about this so I can show you this trick," and, "Since we were talking about this, I'm going to show you this trick."

I started doing something similar whenever I had a trick with a naturally intriguing premise and I found that it worked really well. I wouldn't "subtly" guide the conversation to the subject. I would openly mention I was reading up on a certain subject, or I'd have a book about it on the table. We'd have a real conversation about it. Then, as if it just occurred to me, "Oh... can I show you something related to what we're talking about?"

The connection between the trick and the premise at that point is incredibly strong. The presentation is clearly not just lip-service. If we just had a 15 minute conversation about intuition and then I say, "This reminds me of this thing with cards I read in a book once that I've always wanted to try." Then you are really going to see this "thing with cards" as being related to the topic we discussed.

Certainly much more so than if the extent of my presentation is "Do you believe in intuition? I thought you'd say that! This is about intuition. Deal 10-20 cards."

---

Obviously this is a concept I’m still piecing together, but I’m confident in the main point, that introducing the premise first and eventually working your way to the trick, is much stronger than asking them if they want to see a trick and then bringing up the premise.

Dustings of Woofle #12 ft. The Violence Force

A couple people wrote to ask why I didn’t just use the George Sands’ “Prime Number Principle” (PNP) to force an item from a circle as in Monday’s post, The Wrath Force.

First, let me describe a simple demonstration of that principle for those who are unfamiliar with it. Put five cards in a circle. Designate one of those cards your force card. Now start with the card one card clockwise from the force cards. That card will be the count of “one.” Count any number less than five around the circle starting with the “one” card. When you land on a card, turn it over, it’s been eliminated, but keep it in the circle. Continue counting that number again starting with the next card in the circle. Eliminated cards are still counted. What will happen is that you’ll eliminate every card except your force card. This is similar to the force I described Monday, just much simpler since you don’t need to remember a bunch of rules.

So why didn’t I just use that? Well, for a few reasons.

Reason #1 - I was set on using five objects (as I had Quinta in mind). And with 5 objects, using that principle as a force isn’t great (at least not in a circle formation). You can’t use the number 5. The number 1 looks stupid. 4 doesn’t look great either—you just end up eliminating cards in order around the circle. So only two numbers work and/or look any good.

Reason #2 - I misunderstood something about the PNP which I’ll get to in a second.

Reason #3 - I liked the idea of using dice to choose the number. My theory was that if I used the PNP and they picked 3, they’d think “Well, probably everyone picks three. There aren’t that many numbers between 1 and 5.” And they’d be close to right. The force I described on Monday allows them to use any number between 1 and 12.

Reason #4 - The PNP just wouldn’t work with the effect I created the force for.

But, now I’ve come around on all those reasons. I’ll tell you why.

1. With the PNP you don’t need to use 5 objects. You can use any prime number of objects. So if I used 7, I would had twice as many numbers that worked and looked like a random elimination (2, 3, 4, and 5). 6 works too, it just doesn’t look as random because the objects get eliminated linearly.

2. The thing I misunderstood about the PNP is as follows… you’ll see in the write-up I linked above (and in most of the other write-ups I’ve seen) that it says the principle works with any number less than the prime number you start with. But unless I’m mistaken (which is possible, I’m dumb), it works with any number at all, as long as it’s not a multiple of the number of items you start with. So if you start with 7 items, every number will work except for 7, 14, 21, etc.

3. So… that means with 7 cards, we can still use a couple real or imaginary dice. And the force will work as long as they don’t choose/roll a 7. If they do roll a 7, it’s easy enough to get around that. Just say, “Okay 7, great. Oh wait… we have seven items here. We’ll just keep counting around to the same object. Pick any number other than seven.” And you’re good to go.

4. The reason I created the Wrath Force as written up Monday was for something in the next book that wouldn’t work with the PNP. Because it’s for supporters, I can’t give too much away. But I’ll say this, it’s not a card force and it doesn’t involve any counting at all. And it perfectly mimics a method of selection almost everyone has done in their lives at some point. Originally I needed the more complicated version of the force to make my idea work, but I think I have a simplified version that will work. I just haven’t had a chance to try it out yet. If it ends up working, you’ll see it in the book.

---

So using the Prime Number Principle is really the way to go. It’s so much simpler. Here’s how I would use it in the context of a card force.

The Violence Force

(Because the cards are in a circle, I’ve been naming these forces after Dante’s circles of hell. Look at me, I’m a smarty-pants!)

This combines methods to make a really impenetrable force. It’s not going to be your everyday force, because it’s very process-heavy. You might think a lot of process would weaken a force. In some circumstances it can. But I don’t think that’s an issue with this force as I’ll explain later.

Procedure

It will be easier if the force card has a mark you can identify on the back, but it’s not necessary. Having a joker in the deck is good too, but also not 100% necessary.

You hand the cards to the spectator to shuffle.

You take them back and remove the joker. In the process you cull or cut the force card to the top.

You tell the spectator to cut the cards into “a bunch” of small packets. You want about seven or eight packets. Keep track of the packet that was formerly the top of the deck.

“We’re going to eliminate the entire deck down to one card. To do that, we’ll eliminate seven of these eight packets. Give me one packet to eliminate.”

The packets are given to you one at a time. You flash them to show the cards that are being eliminated. As the packets are handed to you, you’re reassembling the deck in your hands. If the packet with the force card on top is eliminated, just make sure that it ends up back on top of the cards in your hands. Simple.

You’re down to one packet, either it already has the force card on top or it will when you palm the force card off the cards in your hand and push the remaining packet towards the spectator.

If necessary, have them add or subtract cards to that packet to get to seven (you don’t mention the number seven to the spectator because you don’t want that number to seem important). Here’s the easiest way to do it.

• If there are more than seven cards—for example, 9—spread them between your hands face-up, but with the last one held as a double, hiding the force card. “You eliminated those piles randomly, not knowing what was in them. Now I’ll let you make an intentional choice and just name a couple of the cards here and they’ll be eliminated as well.” The card(s) they name are removed.

• If there are less than seven cards—for example, 5—flip over the eliminated cards and swirl them on the table. “You eliminated these piles randomly. Now you have the chance to give a couple cards a second chance. Which ones do you want to add back in?”

Arrange the seven cards in a circle. Place their finger or a marker of some sort on the card one card clockwise from the force card. Now you can tell them what’s going to happen and be very direct. “You’re going to choose any number you want. We’ll start with the card you’re on as one and count clockwise. Whatever card we end up on will be the eliminated card. And we’ll continue like that until we’re down to one card.”

You can go the dice route, the invisible dice route, or just “name a number that’s not too large, because we’re going to be counting up to it at least 6 times.”

Thinking of it now, I might disqualify 7 before they have a chance to choose it or roll it. “Name any number. Just not 7 because we have 7 cards and we’d end up just counting around and around to the same card.”

Follow the process and eliminate all the cards until you’re left with one, the force card.

There are so many layers to this: mathematics, sleight-of-hand, and genuinely free choices, that it will be very difficult for them to understand how this could be a force.

I know a lot of you are thinking, “I wouldn’t use that. I want something more direct. ‘Point to a card.’ ‘Touch a card.’ ‘Name a card.’”

I fully get that instinct. But the truth is, a direct and “quick” force can often be dismissed with an “Easy Answer.” Did he make me touch that card? Does everyone name that card? Etc.

Layering methods helps eliminate some of those Easy Answers.

Yes, but isn’t it obviously a force? If it wasn’t, why would you go through this whole process? Why not just have them name a card?

That’s a good point, and it’s a problem with many process-heavy forces. Think of the 10-20 force where you’re asking for a number, counting down to that number, then adding the digits and counting down again. That’s a very bizarre process.

But in this force, all of the process is for the same reason: to eliminate cards. First we’re eliminating packets, then once we’re down to a handful of cards we’re eliminating them one at time. It all feels like one type of process continuing throughout the force.

And there is a logical reason to do it this way rather than have them just name or touch a card. That reason is drama.

“I’m going to have you select a card. Actually I’m going to have you eliminate 51 cards. Usually a magician will just have you pick one and you never really know if you picked it freely or if maybe he forced it on you somehow. That won’t be the case here. You will watch 51 different options fall away based on your decisions and chance. So you’ll actually see the consequences of your actions every step of the way. Here, shuffle up the deck.”

And you can make a big deal every step of the way as you show them the ramifications of their decisions. In the right situation, this type of “slow motion” force can be incredibly strong.

---

Let’s take a quick break from this discussion to look at the…

Questionable Cafe Claim of the Day

Later in the same post…

Hmmmm…

“These tricks are PERFECT for TV! (Also, you can’t do these on TV.)”

This is reminiscent of my Tinder profile where I talk about how great I am at eating pussy and then tacked onto the end it says, “Oral sex not included in our date. Contact SansMinds for cunnilingus.”

---

Damn, guys. So, I just had a chance to perform The Violence Force, as written up above. (I wrote part of the post a couple days ago, it’s now Thursday evening as I write this.) That thing is super strong. Stronger than I expected. Yes, it’s process-y, but it feels like a cohesive process. We’re whittling down the deck to one card in ways that involve choice and chance.

When I want to test out a force I always choose an effect where “force” should be the obvious answer. If a force is the easiest answer for an effect and they still don’t offer that as a potential explanation, then you’ve got a good force.

I also like to use an effect that doesn’t have an inherently exciting revelation. I don’t want to mistake their excitement for seeing fireworks in the sky spelling out their card to color my impression of how the force went over.

Here’s what I did. There were two decks on the table. One happened to be marked. I told my friend Mike to shuffle that deck while I looked through the other deck. I acted like I was considering something, but really I was just waiting for him to finish shuffling. When he was done, I noted the marks on the top card and removed the matching card from my deck, gave it to Mike, and told him to sit on it without looking at it.

I then went through the force as written above. Once the cards were in a circle I was pushed back well away from the table.

When the remaining card matched the card under his ass he said, “What the good heavens? You indubitably never ostensibly touched the blessed cards!”

(Actually, what he really said was, “What the fuck? You fucking never fucking touched the fucking cards!” But my critics have informed me that smart people don’t need to use bad words to make their point. So I wanted to make my friend seem smarter. But I don’t like lying to you readers. Sorry, Mike.)

He was wrong though. I had touched the packet when I pushed it towards him, loading in the palmed card, and when I spread through to see how many cards we had. He had ten, and rather than eliminate three, I had him add in one “second chance card.” The nice thing about the Prime Number Principle is that it works with any prime number so you have some flexibility. (It just doesn’t work with 280,859, for some reason. Seriously. I swear. Try it out.)

I think the reason he didn’t remember me touching the cards is that there is a very hands-off feeling when anything of importance is happening (when cards are being eliminated) that I think carries over for the whole force.

I really like this combination of principles. And adding a marked deck to it just makes it that much more impossible to figure out. This is likely going to be one of my go-to forces when I want a more drawn out procedure.

---

He’s no longer with us, but thanks to George Sands for the Prime Number Principle. I’ve never taken a deep dive into his work, but his Sandsational Rope routine was something I bought on one of my first visits to a magic store when I was young.

Also, that picture looks like it was taken in front of the same blue background my school pictures were taken against when I was a kid.

He couldn’t have possibly been in elementary school in the 1980s, could he?

Wait… no… hold on…

I just found this picture. He was clearly in high school in the 1980s.

---

We’re about a month away from the rise of the Full Harvest Moon, and this will be the third year where I will take that time to make some decisions about the future of the site. I think I know what my plans are. They’re similar to the plans I had last year to take things more underground, but I didn’t follow-thru on that like I wanted.

I’d like to get an idea of how you read the site so I can decide if what I’m thinking makes sense. If you read this site with any regularity, please fill out the form below.