ʇxǝʇdʎɹɔ

Yesterday’s mailbag had me thinking of Cryptext. Before I get to a new idea I had, I want to reiterate a point I’ve made before.

[Taken from an old post…]

There seems to be a fundamental misunderstanding about how to use Cryptext.

Here's Lior Suchard botching it on a recent performance for Kelly Ripa and Ryan Seacrest. You only really need to see one still image from the video to make the point.

That's supposed to be Lior revealing his prediction of a number, 38079. But, of course, it doesn't look like a number. It looks like an upside-down word. And that is, in fact, what Kelly is pointing at right there. Lior has to cover up the number partially and then quickly do the final reveal because it's so obvious what is about to happen. 

"But it gets a good reaction." Well, Kelly and Ryan give a good "tv presenter" reaction as they are paid to do.  But if you look at that video and it looks like a strong human reaction, then you may have a disorder that prevents you from understanding human emotions. (Similarly, pay attention to how much of a dud the pre-show stuff is too. He suggests he's able to get the image of her making-out with a plastic head of Farrah Fawcett and her reaction is, "Hmm... yup.")

Cryptext will always get a good reaction, because it's a fun reveal. But it's a much stronger reveal when the audience doesn't see it coming. 

With that in mind, you want your initial word or number to look as genuine as possible. You need to prioritize the look of the first display. Yes, you want the reveal to be as easy to "see" as possible, but not to the extent that they're ahead of you and the ending is blown.

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Here’s an example. Here are the numbers written normally.

And here it is flipped over. Perfectly understandable as GLOBE (especially in conext). The numbers didn’t have to be written in some weird, janky style.

I would even suggest it’s actually more fun for the participant to “find” the word in the overturned letters, rather than have it be 100% obvious. It’s completely okay if the reveal looks frankensteined together. That’s what makes it enjoyable. No one will say, “Well, I would have liked it if the number formed my word when it was turned over, but only if it had been presented with proper capitalization and fine calligraphy.”

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A reader sent me a spectacularly bad example of Cryptext where the number is essentially indecipherable, and it generated this idea…

This will be great if you’re a guy and you have a long-time girlfriend.

You force an 8-digit number on her via TOXIC or forcing a string of UNO cards or whatever. You have to do it in some manner where you seemingly don’t know what the number is.

Then you say, “I’m going to try and read your mind and figure out the number…. 598… no? Hmm. Okay… uhm… 3303-something-something? That’s not right? Dammit. I guess I screwed that up.”

Then you say, “Oh wait. There’s something I want to show you.” You get down on one knee and pull a hand-made sign out from under the couch. You show it to your long-term girlfriend.

With any luck she will scream with happiness.

You respond: “I’m glad you like the trick.”

She gets confused. You look at her, and then the sign.

“Oh shoot, that’s upside-down…

”Was that your number?” you say, with a big ta-dah gesture,

2-4-1-5-1-1-0-4-1

Then she—likely—beats the shit out of you.

The trick hits harder the longer you’ve been leading her on in this relationship.

Here’s the thing, it’s impossible to surprise someone with “marry me” with that particular font of Cryptext. If you brought that out saying it was numbers, it would just confuse everyone. It’s clearly a word upside down. So instead, go the opposite way and convince your girlfriend/boyfriend you’re proposing.

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If you don’t have a significant other, you could “find” a piece of paper with this written on it at a restaurant or something. Then say to your friend, “Someone must have proposed here or something,” and toss it aside.

Later on, ask your friend to test the math skills you’re working on and have him multiply together three 3-digit numbers and to call them out as he does. You concentrate and start writing down the sum you’re getting (forced via Toxic) on a nearby piece of paper (the “marry me” paper), then you stop yourself and say. “Oh, wait. It’s already on here: 241511041.”

Mailbag #133

Do you have any tips for not coming off as a smug prick when revealing Cryptext in a formal show?

I know when you use it it’s generally something you discover with the audience, but in a show that doesn’t really work. Or does it?—YG

It doesn’t, no.

You’re right—in formal shows, the typical Cryptext reveal often comes off like this:

I predicted you would get that number… aren’t I clever?

Actually, I’m even more cleverly clever than you knew—because if you flip that number over…

So if playing it as something you planned makes you sound like a “smug prick” (as you put it)…

And if playing it as something you didn’t expect feels phony…

Then maybe the route is to play it as something you hoped for.

Not “I knew this would happen,” but “I hoped this would happen.”

That won’t work for every Cryptext routine, but it will work for a lot of them.

Usually, the audience generates a number, you show you predicted it, then you do the Cryptext reveal. But what if, instead of calling it a prediction, you frame it as a kind of “wisdom of crowds” experiment? A moment where the audience is trying—together—to land on the number you wrote down earlier that day.

So when the final number matches, you’re relieved. You’re happy for them that they got it right. “Because if anyone had been even one number off, the result would’ve been totally different.”

Then maybe you say:

But you might be thinking: it has to be a trick. Even working together, how could you have come up with the number I wrote down? None of us is psychic. So how did your number match mine?

Well… maybe because you weren’t matching a number.

Remember when I asked you to focus on why we’re here tonight—at Chris and Kathy’s rehearsal dinner?

There was a thought I wanted you to land on. A thought you don’t have to be psychic to recognize. Something that describes the reason we’re all here—in two words.

Words I hoped you’d arrive at. Even though I only gave you numbers to ‘speak’ with.

The reason we’re here tonight… is True Love.

And then you turn the paper, and the numbers say TRUE LOVE.

Or something like that. I’m just spitballing. Obviously, that example is for a wedding/rehearsal dinner situation. But I think you could find a way to do something similar with many other events or corporate situations.

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Re: The full color-blind test presentation from the video in this post

I find this happens often with some participants. The premise of the effect sends them off on a rambling anecdote and one must either indulge them or impatiently hurry them on. I generally don't mind this happening as it shows engagement and takes some heat of the fact that I'm performing rather than just showing something weird. However, it can be distracting. Do you have any advice on how you might handle that situation —AB

The standard advice when someone interjects with a story during your performance is to engage them—listen, respond, don’t keep your head buried in your cards or coins. And I think that’s generally sound.

But context matters. If I’m going for a casual, conversational vibe, then audience interjections are expected—and often welcomed.

But if the tone I’m setting is more focused—like, “I’ve got this wild thing I want to show you”—and someone cuts in with a tangent about 4th grade gym class, that’s a sign something’s off. Either my presentation didn’t land, or they’re just not that into it.

Imagine someone says, “Hey, I’ve got something cool to show you,” and your immediate response is a personal anecdote that derails the moment. That’s not a great signal.

So my rule of thumb is: if the interjection feels like a natural part of the interaction, I lean into it. But if it cuts across the momentum I’m building, I might take it as a cue to wrap up or disengage. (To be clear, I haven’t actually had this happen.) It’s not about punishing them—it’s just reading the room. If they’re not interested, that’s fine. I just prefer to save it for someone who is.

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I have to laugh when creators on facebook or the Magic Cafe tell critics to “look at the demo and you’ll see how strong the trick is”. I worked with [company withheld] for almost 5 years and was always involved in shooting the demo videos. We’d film multiple performances and always pick the best takes. And before rolling, we’d even coach spectators to amp up their reactions for the camera. And even then, we often had to sweeten those reactions in the edit lol. And these performers know this! So it’s really disingenuous to say “LoOk At ThE dEmO”!

I think that’s why you’re seeing more demo videos with magicians performing for other magicians or. Those guys already know how to fake the reactions we want.

If you use this email, please don’t even us my real initials. I want to continue to work with magicians.—XX

I'm not surprised at all. In fact, what surprises me more is that, despite everything you do to get strong reactions, some of them still end up being so weak.

Sadly, magic demos aren’t great for gauging spectator reactions. YouTube reviewers are almost equally useless because if they perform at all, it’s usually to their full-time spectators, who are nothing like real humans anymore. (Of course, you can’t expect them to go out and find different people to perform a constant stream of new tricks on.)

I’m at the point where I put no weight on the demo video reactions. I put a little weight into my own judgment of the trick. But mainly I just need to get it in front of real people, in the types of scenarios I actually perform, to know if it’s going to work.

Dustings #122

Imagine you worked for years on a trick. Spent a bunch of time polishing the handling. Or a bunch of money on a prototype. You’re super excited to roll out your new effect. Maybe this will be your breakout? You go to Blackpool. Lloyd films your trick. One week later… it’s not in this video.

Do you comfort yourself by saying, “While I didn’t meet his strict 87 trick cut-off, I’m sure I was probably number 88.”

Or do you just throw yourself off the Blackpool Tower?

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“The Philosopher’s ACAAN is brilliant. You undersold it. It’s truly a great way to introduce the idea, lower expectations, give the trick context, and occasionally perform a miracle. I work at a restaurant and will be using this as the intro to any ACAAN I do going forward. I should get a ‘hit’ with it once a week or so.” —MC

Thank you. I got a lot of kind words about this one. Thanks to everyone who wrote in.

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I thought I’d share this with you as finding a wall mounted display cases specifically for playing cards proved more difficult than I expected (TCC used to sell a good looking one but discontinued it years ago). Anyway, the one I found was made by these guys and I’m really pleased with the quality (in case you wanted to share this with your readers) – they’re US based but shipped to me in the UK with no issues at all:—JBP

That does look good. And the price is better than what I’ve seen for similar cases.

I’m not sure how I feel about such a formal “display.” I sort of flip-flop on the idea—sometimes thinking it’s better just to have the decks piled up on the shelf in an unassuming way.

But regardless, these are a good find.

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Excuse me, dipshit, I’m trying to get to the dining car.

Oddly enough, I’m actually in this picture.

There’s me in the back.

What? Joshua Jay is teaching magic up there? Uhm… that’s okay. I have this headrest I want to stare at.

The Philosopher's ACAAN

I promised you an ACAAN earlier this week. This one is not it. This one is…hmm… I’m not sure what this. It’s an idea I had about a week ago. On its own, it’s just an absurdist, jokey moment. But it could also be an introduction to another ACAAN performance. And, very occasionally, it's an amazing trick.

You say:

“Shuffle up the deck. Okay, now I want you to name any card in the deck.”

They name the 5 of Diamonds.

“Okay, now there are 52 cards in a deck. Name any number between 1 and 52.”

They name 19.

“Great. I’m not going to touch anything. I want you to deal down to the 19th card. But, before you do, tell me how you’d feel if that card is the 5 of Diamonds.”

“Amazed,” your friend says. “That would be incredible.”

You smile, knowingly.

“Go ahead. Deal to the 19th card.”

They deal down… 17, 18, 19. You hold out your hand to pause them and build suspense.

“Okay. Turn it over,” you say.

They do.

It’s the 8 of Clubs.

You smile broadly. “Amazing.”

“That’s not the card I said,” your friend remarks.

“Well, right,” you say. “But you said it would be amazing if the 5 of Diamonds was there.”

“Yeah?”

“And the odds of the 8 of Clubs being in that position were the same as the 5 of Diamonds being in that position. So this must be equally amazing, when you think about it,” you say, sagely.

“No, that’s not the same—”

You cut your friend off. "Yes. It’s kind of beautiful, really. Little miracles, happening all around us—if only we choose to see them." (You rub your chin, staring off into the distance, lost in thought.)

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That’s it.

Yes, it’s stupid.

But also weirdly true.

And amusing (at least to the two people I’ve tried it on so far).

It also makes a good lead-in to a real ACAAN, if you want to go that route.

And, 1 out of 52 times, it actually works.

And on that day, you have the cleanest, most direct version of this trick anyone has ever performed.

In fact, I now contend that this is the “ultimate” “definitive” “holy grail” version of ACAAN. And—I mean this seriously—I think ten years from now more people will be doing this

But it doesn’t always work, Andy!

Ah, yes. But it doesn’t ever not work.

The $500 Bet Test

Here’s a lesson that magicians seemingly never learn. You can see it happen in this trick demonstration by Craig Petty.

If you don’t have time (or don’t care enough) to watch the trick, here’s a quick summary: Craig conducts a “color blindness” test with his friend, and at the end, the backs of the cards change colors.

If you just watch the performance, you might think, “That went well. Nice trick. Positive reaction.”

But it’s what happens after the trick that’s most interesting for us.

Craig’s friend, Matt, asks the camera operator…

Matt: Did he actually fan them out to show the backs of all of them? I don’t remember.

Craig: Yeah, I did. Yeah, at the beginning I did.

Camera Person: I think he did, yeah, at the start.

Craig: Because I spread them out and said, “What color are the backs of the cards?”

Matt: Yeah, I don’t know if you just showed me one.

Craig: No, I didn’t. I spread them all out.

And they continue to go back and forth a bit about whether the cards were actually spread out or not.

Guys… this is happening with every trick you perform, all day, every day.

Craig did show him all the backs at the beginning, but the trick requires displaying them in a tight fan, making it easy to overlook. And while Craig flashes multiple gray backs throughout the trick, why would anyone consciously register that?The fact is, even if you spread the cards widely at the beginning, most people wouldn’t retain that information.

Magicians act like they’re performing for fucking Sherlock Holmes or something—someone processing and remembering every tiny detail that enters their field of vision. “Flash the inside of the card box to subtly show it’s empty.” No one registers your subtle “flashes.” That’s not how human memory works.

A lot of magicians forget this because they only perform for other magicians. When you’re a magician who primarily lectures to other magicians, you can say things like, “Casually show your hand empty before removing the card from your pocket.” In that world, it works—because your audience is made up of magicians who actually notice those details. In the real world, laypeople don’t run the calculus on every subtle gesture. They just say, “Oh wow! My card was in his pocket! Hmm… I bet it was in his hand when he reached in there.”

You can’t go back and convince someone of the conditions of what you did. You must beat it into them at the beginning.

My billet peek became five times stronger when I started telling people, “Make sure my eyes never go near what you wrote. I don’t even want the chance to see it.”

Without that sort of caveat, people just think something like, “He must have looked at it when he was putting it in his wallet or something. I don’t remember him looking, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

Try this $500 Bet Test to strengthen your magic.

1. Start by asking: “What is the effect?”

2. Next, ask: 'What’s the most basic condition that must be clearly established for the effect to register?'

3. Finally, ask: “Would I bet $500 that my spectator is absolutely certain of that condition?”

If you wouldn’t take that bet, you need to reinforce the conditions.

Example: Coin In Bottle.

What is the effect? A coin magically penetrates a bottle.

What’s the key condition? The spectator must know—without a doubt—that the coin starts outside the bottle. That’s the foundation of the effect

Would I bet $500 that my spectator knows this? Yes. If I borrow the coin, or they hold the coin, or just see the coin clearly, I’d bet $500 they would remember that it was not in the bottle at the start.

That’s an easy one.

What about the trick in the video above?

What is the effect? Gray cards turn rainbow color.

What condition needs to be established for the effect to register? They have to remember seeing multiple cards being all gray at the start.

Would I bet $500 that they’re sure of that condition? No. At least, not the way it’s performed in the video.

In some cases, due to the method, you simply can’t establish the conditions needed for the trick to ever really fully fool people. I call those Broken Tricks. The definition from that post is:

A broken trick is a trick where the method that is used prevents you from establishing the conditions that are needed for the trick to be seen as truly impossible.

Is the trick in the video above a 'Broken Trick'? I don’t think so. I just think the back color needs to be more clearly established—and that the audience needs to register seeing multiple backs.

How do we do this without spoiling the ending?

I would just tweak what Craig did in this way. I’d do what he does and point around the room asking about colors. Then I’d spread the cards:

“What color are the cards?”

“Gray.”

“Oh no. Poor thing. Yes, that one’s gray. But that one is blue, that one’s green, that one’s yellow…” And I would point along each card in the spread. “No. I’m just messing with you. I wanted to shake your confidence before the real color test.”

Then I’d go through the color test and at the end do the line where I say, “Actually, I wasn’t testing your color vision—I was testing your memory. What was the color of the back of the cards?”

“Gray.”

“Oh no. Poor thing. Don’t you remember? One was gray. But this one is blue, this one’s green, this one’s yellow, this one’s orange.”

This not only strengthens their conviction about the back color—since they’re mentally correcting you as you mislabel them—but also enhances the structure by looping back to the beginning. You get to foreshadow the ending, but not in a way that spoils the surprise.

I Need Your Vote!

Last week, I was surprised to learn that FISM had nominated The Jerx in its newly minted Online Magic category. The winner will be determined by a panel of judges, who will also factor in the results of an online poll.

May I have your vote?

Sorry… I meant to say…

On a completely unrelated note… May I have your vote for my son, Fergus, in Bidiboo’s Cute Baby Contest?

Sweet, beautiful, Fergus could win up to $1500 for his college fund with your help.

As for the FISM award: No thanks. I could not give less of a shit about that. Don’t waste your time voting.

I suppose there’s some universe where I’d be flattered by the nomination. But when the Online Magic category consists of unlistenable podcasts and deserted magic message boards…

…it’s hard to take it too seriously. It doesn’t feel like they were especially discerning.

It’s like if someone said, “Your movie has been nominated for an award!” And you ask, “Oh, what’s it up against?” And they say, “A video your mom took of the inside of her purse when she didn’t realize her phone camera was on. And one of Chuck Berry’s toilet movies.” Probably not the kind of recognition that warrants a get-out-the-vote campaign.

But don’t tell Steve Brooks that. The nomination finally got him off the beanbag chair and active on his own website for the first time in ages, as he begs for your vote.

I hope he wins. I want to be able to say “FISM winner, Steve Brooks.” The real FISM winners would be committing mass suicide just to get the chance to roll over in their grave.

The Magic Café—once a thriving spot to discuss magic, and now a place where the same 6 morons argue all day—winning any kind of award would completely discredit that award. I’m all for it.

I don’t even understand my category.

Are they calling this site a “newsletter”? I do have a newsletter, but they can’t be referring to that. Nobody at FISM is a subscriber.

And they must be referring to Vanishing Inc’s blog too, because their newsletter just talks about what sponge balls were released that week or whatever.

If anything, Best Online Publication or Best Online Writing would have made more sense than "newsletter."

Or better yet—don’t force a bunch of uninspiring nominees into filler categories. Have one category with, like, the three good magic-related things online.

Am I one of those things? Of course. But I still have no interest in these awards. Unless they change the name to:

FISM Presents The Jerx Awards for Excellence in Online Magic.

If I do win this thing, I’m just going to “Sacheen Littlefeather” you all and send someone to lecture you about the treatment of Native Americans in magic demos.

So please—if you’re going to cast a ballot, cast it for someone else.

I’ve already received many other equally prestigious honors for this website—right up there with the FISM Online Magic Award.

Fizzling ACAAN

A recent email asked:

Are you keeping up with the ACAAN Wars? It’s wild. I just can’t seem to find anyone worth rooting for among this bunch of losers.

I’m pretty satisfied with the Atomic Deck in terms of both method and handling, but the reactions could definitely be stronger. I remember you once posted something about reactions following a curve or something like that. This trick gets a nice initial pop, but the excitement fades fast. Is there a way to stretch it out, or is that just the nature of the trick? —MLC

Yeah, I think I called that the “surprise fizzle,” referencing a series of posts I wrote back in 2019.

My issue with ACAAN is that it’s entirely deck-focused. “The playing card you named is at the position in the deck that you also named. This is fun, right guys?”

Your experience is about what I’d expect: a strong initial reaction, followed by a sharp drop in interest. Because the trick is entirely deck-centered, there’s nothing for the spectator to ruminate on. They’re likely to default to “trick deck” or “sleight of hand”—whatever their usual go-to explanation is for this kind of effect.

As you said, that’s just “the nature of the trick.”

The other issue is that it’s just not impossible enough to capture someone’s imagination long-term. If you asked everyone on Earth tonight to name a random card and a position in the deck, 154 million of them would get a match.

Back in 2021, I said that if you wanted to sum up the ethos of this site in the fewest words, it would be this sentence:

The experience of MAGIC is created by the gap between what the spectator knows to be true and what feels real to them in the moment.

That single sentence encapsulates most of what I write about.

The problem with ACAAN, in my opinion, is that it doesn’t create that “gap.” The card is at the position they named. Sure, it’s unlikely—but it doesn’t feel like it violates what they know to be true, especially when it’s the magician’s deck and the magician dealing.

So you have to give them a story to consider that they know can’t be true.

Here’s a thought experiment:

Magician A says: “Name a card. Name a number. Look, as I deal through the cards. Your card is at your number.”

The spectator’s mind thinks: “Huh…that’s crazy. Is that a normal deck. Did he do something funny when he was dealing?”

Magician B brings a goat into the room and says, “Name a card. Name a number. I will slice this goat’s throat* and my dark lord will put that card at your number in the deck.” He kills the goat. Counts the cards. And your card is found there.

Magician B has “created the gap between what the spectator knows to be true” (that killing a goat can’t alter the position of a card in the deck) “and what feels real to them in the moment” (That guy just killed a goat, and now my card is at that position in the deck… it couldn’t be related, right?)

It’s a thought experiment. Please don’t kill a goat. Or anything.

My point is that unless you give them something more impossible to at least consider—even if they ultimately dismiss it—you’re unlikely to get a lasting response to ACAAN (or any other deck-focused trick).

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Regardless of the arguments going on, there is no ultimate ACAAN. What you value in magic generally is likely going to be the deciding factor in what version you like. If you’re a big sleight-of-hand guy, then you’ll like the sleight-of-hand methods. If you’re someone who markets tricks, the best method is probably one you can market. If you’re someone who likes very “do-able” methods, like Sankey’s or Bannon’s style, then you’re going to be drawn towards that style of routine.

I appreciate the trick in a meta way. I like seeing how different people’s minds approach it.

In that spirit, I’ll give you an ACAAN probably later this month. It’s a very “Jerxian” solution to the trick. Borrowed, shuffled deck. 100% free choice of any card and any position in the deck. The card is never named aloud or written down. The number is never named aloud or written down. More or less impromptu. Spectator deals.