Creep Updates

A couple months ago I received a number of emails asking if I was going to be kicking some magician named Reza out of the GLOMM because he was accused of breach of contract of a sexual misconduct settlement.

I don’t think so. The rule is you need to be convicted of a crime. I genuinely can’t figure out what is going on with that story, but from what I can tell, there’s been no conviction.

I’ll be honest, the story certainly makes him sound like a creep. But not—as of yet—a criminal one.

Plus, hasn’t he been punished enough? Judging from his pictures, he saw Justin Bieber 15 years ago, developed a big-time crush on him, shellacked his hair into a knockoff Biebs cosplay, and then got cursed by a gypsy to keep it that way for life. That’s the only explanation, right? Certainly, he still wouldn’t be wearing that hairstyle unless some hex had shackled him to it.

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Jason McCully has been kicked out of the GLOMM.

As Jason notes in his Facebook bio, his interests include “mayhem” and “photography.” These interests are perhaps best exemplified by his primary hobby: taking videos of women and underage girls while they went to the bathroom.

Whenever I’m notified by someone of a magician that needs to be kicked out of the GLOMM, I always search my email and pray that I won’t find some email from that magician that’s like, “Hey, big fan.”

Fortunately, that hasn’t happened yet, but I did find this:

This dunce thought he’d send me a penny via paypal and get a receipt like, “You sent $0.01 to Chester Dupree.” And then he was going to “bust” me by revealing my name.

Guys, I know how the internet works. I knew I couldn’t A) remain anonymous and B) set up a bunch of stuff under my own name. I kinda cracked the code on that long before I set up even my first magic blog back in 2003.

If you want to know who runs the Jerx PayPal, who registered the site’s URL, or even whose name the phone I use for magic apps is under, I’ll gladly tell you—it isn’t me, and none of it brings you any closer to me. Covering myself that way was the easy part of remaining anonymous.

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But, Andy, you don’t understand. I want to do what I can to support my local sex criminals.

Well, then you’ll appreciate my new feature here at The Jerx.

Catch A Predator

Here I’ll inform you where you can catch your local sex criminal performing.

According to the email below, Jeff Carson aka, Jeffrey Leach, Ron Geoffries (see here and here) will be lecturing on the Nest of Boxes for the Society of American Magicians #4 (Philadelphia) at the House of Magic.

What this email makes clear (beyond the fact that SAM #4 is struggling for cash—really guys? you’re not going to chip in for the Christmas party?), is that if you want to go to the lecture and call Jeff out for molesting 10-year-olds you can do that.

It’s only the following month’s lecture (the Fun Mix) that is a “no judgement [sic] zone.” On September 18th you are free to judge all you like.

Invitations

There are certain sentences no one wants to hear:

“Have you heard the good news about our Lord and Savior…”

“I’m looking for a few motivated individuals to join my team. If you’re tired of your 9-to-5 and ready to be your own boss, this could be exactly what you’ve been waiting for.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. Has anyone ever told you that you look like a female Craig Petty?”

Right up there with those, I’d put the sentence: “Do you want to see a magic trick?”

Sure, there are people who light up when they hear that—but in my experience, they’re usually the exact people I’d least want to perform for.

For everyone else, that phrase can carry some baggage. Most peoples’ only experience of live magic is bad magic: tricks that bored them, tricks so obvious they had to fake surprise to protect the ego of the child (or man-child) showing it, or tricks that genuinely fooled them but felt so hollow the only takeaway was, “Well, I guess I’m stupid.”

Very few people are ever actually charmed by a trick.

Which is why dropping that question—“Want to see a trick?”—was one of the best decisions I ever made when it came to getting people on board to watch a trick.

The words you use at that moment matter. They’re the Invitation into the experience.

Instead of “Want to see a trick?” Consider Invitations like these:

• “This has been bugging me all day. Can you make any sense of it?”

• “I learned this thing the other day and I’m wondering if it works on everyone. Will you be my guinea pig?”

• “Okay, this is going to sound dumb, but I swear it’s true…”

• “I read this article that had a little exercise to test intuition, want to try it?”

• “Someone showed me this thing at a party last week, and it’s been stuck in my head ever since.”

• “Want to see a weird little glitch in the way your brain processes stuff?”

• “This was our road-trip game growing up. I got kind of good at it.”

• “I picked this up from a friend who claimed it was a way to tell if someone was lying.”

• “Supposedly this says a lot about how your brain is wired, let’s try it.”

• “Do you mind holding onto this for a second? You’ll see why.”

• “I never paid for a drink in college doing this. Want to see?”

Not all of these Invitations are perfect for every audience, trick, or situation, but almost any one of them is better than, “Let’s play make-believe that I have magic powers.”

If you only remember a couple, remember the ones I’ve used most often in my writing (and in my real life):

1. “Can I show you something weird?”

2. “Can I get your help with something?”

These play directly to two instincts people almost always say yes to: curiosity, and the desire to be helpful.

You’re not aiming for something clever, just something intriguing and human. And “Want to see a magic trick?”—the same line you used when you were nine—is neither.

Out of the Minds of Babes

Imagine

“Oh, my God, she’s so beautiful,” I say. “And you can tell, there’s a lot going on behind the eyes, you know? She’s going to be a smart one.”

I’m holding an eight-month-old named Cara, chatting with her parents, friends of mine from college.

“Did you ever do… like, one of those psychic tests with her? To see if she has anything… you know… ‘extra’ going on?”

“What?” her mother says, giving me a look that carries an unspoken “…the fuck are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard of that? Oh, it’s fun, let’s try it.”

I pick up my phone, look something up, then set it back face-down on the table.

“Okay, I’ve locked something in. Let’s see if she can pick up on it.”

I pick Cara up and look her straight in the eyes then hand her over to her mother.

I have her mother bring her daughter over to the bookshelf and hold her out towards the books.

“Move her back and forth and see if there’s a book she grabs for or makes a move for in some way.”

We identify a book the baby seemed to reach toward.

I take the book and riffle through the pages. “We’ll see if she makes a move for me to stop somewhere.” As I gently flutter the pages near her face, the baby extends her hand out to touch them and I stop riffling.

With a page identified, I open the book on the floor at that page. We place Cara on her belly in front of the book. Her mom wiggles her fingers over the text until Cara plops her hand down on the page.

“Look for a word near her fingertips,” I say. “We’re looking for a noun. An object. Something you can touch. Do you see anything like that?”

“Hmmm,” her mom says, “well, the closest word I can see like that is luggage.”

“I’ll be honest,” I say, “luggage is pretty close.”

I pick up my phone and show her parents the word I searched for was suitcase.

“Not bad. Not perfect. But not bad,” I say, shrugging it off a little.

Her parents stare at each other, speechless.

Method

The method for this particular execution of the idea was S.A.M. by Christian Grace.

But this general premise is something I’ve used a few times in the past with any trick that uses a genuinely freely chosen word (or a number—I’ve done similar things with number blocks).

I love doing tricks for new parents that make their kid the star. I find it fairly easy to come up with ways of framing magic so that the baby is the focus of the miracle.

Mailbag #147

This just popped up in my feed:
https://youtu.be/2Pbzz3uzrGU?si=uzj-xYQhbksxJEBl

It’s a layperson explaining all the tricks Oz Pearlman did in public and on tape. I’m about halfway through where he gets into the chalkboard routine. Oz used Yves Domergue’s blackboard with the e-ink display, but this guy thinks it’s the Lynx Blackboard from Mr. Miranda.

According to his “Grok” searches, he explains that the spectator needs to say the number/word out loud and then wait a few seconds until it appears. Honestly, I’m stunned—this person (as far as I know) has zero background in magic, yet he’s piecing things together just by using Grok.

Here’s my question to you: how would you approach performing as a semi-professional or professional magician in light of things like this?

My gut says it’s better to lean more into the Ben Seidman latest book style—mixing methods, adding layers, and thinking laterally instead of linearly. So rather than one effect leading straight to the reveal, you’ve got two or three things happening at once that eventually converge into something stronger.

What do you think?—MB

You have a few options:

1. Don’t give a shit. If people are online trying to expose your tricks, you’ve probably made it.

2. Don’t let what you do be filmed. Nobody can break down the game film if there’s no game film.

3. I’m not familiar with Ben’s book you mention, but that approach makes sense—build effects that are more structurally intricate in presentation and harder to unravel. Allow your methods to be a collage rather than a straight line.

   That said, it might not stop people from landing on an explanation that satisfies them, even if it’s wrong.

   And still, I don’t know if that holds up under multiple rewatches on video.

4. Do magic so dull, obvious, or skill-exhibition-y (stage manipulation) that nobody cares enough to “expose” it.

Personally, I would go with #2. I would only allow things to be viewed live. How would I market myself given that? Beats me. I don’t need to know because it’s not going to happen.

But, as discussed recently, I think “magic” as we imagine the art to have always been, is now just a live phenomenon.

When performing live (especially one-on-one) we can put things in place that prevent or dissuade people from trying to figure out the effect.

But you can’t do that performing broadly to anyone watching you on YouTube, on social media, or on a podcast. And the better your magic or mentalism is, the more people will be out there trying to explain it. In those environments, you can’t create an enduring sense of magic and mystery—only more attractive fodder for people to devour and dissect until they convince themselves they’ve solved it.

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This video showing Craig Petty performing Chroma gave me a small idea. What if the performer doesn't present this as mind-reading or prediction, but does a more "distracted artist" style thing? Something like this: the performer says they're working on a trick that involves colors and is in the preliminary process of learning how people perceive them. They ask the spectator to think of a color, go through the process, and at the end pull out a notebook or something and start noting "OK. Adding this to my notes--[spectator's name], August 27th, color chosen Orange, 23 seconds". Then (hopefully) the spectator says something like, "wait, how did you know which color I chose?" and the performer acts confused. "Huh? Didn't you tell me? ... no, I guess you didn't. But it really feels like you did. Maybe I've just been working with colors for too long".

IDK, something like that. Have you written about anything similar in the past? Where the revelation of a mind-reading trick isn't presented with any fanfare?

*shrug* As to why I'm watching year-old Craig Petty videos, never you mind.—JH

I think that’s an interesting concept, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t quite land. I’ve really only ever used the Distracted Artist style for visual pieces—a vanish, a levitation, a production, a transformation. Those are so direct that even if someone catches them on the periphery, from a distance, or with no preamble, the impossibility is still clear.

With mindreading, I think the primary reaction would be confusion at first. And it’s hard to turn confusion into awe and wonder.

That said, it’s always worth experimenting. Sometimes ideas like this play better in the real world than they do in theory

I could see it working as part of a long-term presentation where you occasionally seem to pick up on what someone’s thinking. “Oh, sorry—did you not say that out loud? Huh. Yeah, it’s some weird low-grade telepathy thing. I forget what the doctor called it… Certain times of the month I can sometimes pick up on stuff. But it’s mostly useless.”

That way you could sprinkle in low-key mindreading here and there, but within a context the audience can latch onto

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Do you have a better justification for Paul Harris's OOTW, Galaxy? One that doesn't involve saving time or getting one card "wrong"? —LS

Not really. Like a lot of people, I switched to Galaxy from the traditional handling of Out of This World because it felt like an improvement at the time. But that was decades ago. These days I’m more comfortable with versions that use a packet switch.

As I mentioned in a recent newsletter, nobody is looking for a switch in that context—or even has a sense of how switching the packets would help you—so it’s an easy move to get away with.

The only time I still use Paul’s Galaxy handling is with this version. That routine does involve a “wrong card,” but it’s framed as proof of something larger. That’s the closest I’ve come to making the moment of combining the packets and spreading them feel at least somewhat earned.

Until September...

This is the final post until September. Regular posting resumes Monday, September 1st. The next issue of the newsletter comes out Sunday, August 31st. If you are a supporter with an ad for the newsletter, try to get it to me in a week from today.

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Someone asked me who the Jacob was in the “Jacob Holdout” from yesterday and I fucking have no clue. I wrote that post up over a month ago and it was late at night and I completely forgot what I was thinking when I named it.

The only thing I can think of is that because it was an alternative to the Ron Edwards Holdout, I was thinking Jacob and Edward… like a Twilight thing? But I can’t see myself actually doing that. But, I guess apparently I did.

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Kane F. writes:

I’ve seen several bullshit facebook posts recently about brains emitting electromagnetic waves that travel vast distances. If you google it you get flooded with facebook, instagram and linkedin post about it (no actual evidence of course):

Seems like a great setup for some sort of mind reading effect. “Do you want to try out some of the tests they did in the study? It’s totally harmless as far as I know” etc could set up mind reading over the phone/video call as well with the “long distances” bit.

Remember when we thought the internet would make us smarter?

There is so much goofball shit on Facebook (and everywhere else) that you could really make your whole performing persona, “I believe every dumb thing I see on facebook. And, in fact, I can demonstrate these things to you.”

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I won’t say this trick is bad…

but can you convince me it’s good?

Remember the Green Grass Test.

What about this trick would you say is good compared to other tricks where coins (or chips) go from hand to hand? Other than the fact that it’s new and we tend to value new releases over tricks that have been around for a while? Especially given the fact that most of the displays in this trick are of the edge of the coin?

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SPOOX movie recommendation. I think Weapons lives up to the hype. If you’re a horror fan, check it out.

Not only that, but in the opening title, there is a triangle in the O in Weapons. So you could do the circle/triangle psychological force. As the movie starts, just say to the audience, “Think of a simple shape, like a square. And then place another simple shape around it.” Then just notice the astounded response from the audience as they say, “I can’t believe this! Sit the fuck down, we’re trying to watch a movie.”

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See you back here on the first!

Spex Mix: The Jacob Holdout

Spex Mix is my series of posts on ways for the spectator to mix the cards while retaining a partial stack, based on my theory that letting the spectator mix the cards is far stronger than any false shuffle you might do yourself. Ctrl+F and look for Spex for other posts in this series.

This is a new technique I’ve been defaulting to recently. There’s nothing revolutionary here, it’s just a combination of beats that I’ve found works particularly well together.

It’s best when you’re maintaining a stack of up to six cards, I would say. You could get away with one or two more maybe, but six is about where I cap it.

Your stack starts out on the bottom of the deck.

1. Start by giving it a few riffle shuffles, protecting the bottom stack.

2. Cut off about 15 cards and give them to your friend to shuffle. The number, doesn’t exactly matter. Ideally we’re shooting for a little less than 1/3rd of the deck though.

3. When they’re done, have them set their pile on the table. Point to a place roughly aligned with your right shoulder.

4. Cut off another 15 or so cards and hand them to the spectator to mix.

5. As they do this, spread the remaining cards between your hands, as if to gauge about how many are left. Close the spread and obtain a pinky break above your stack.

6. At this point, I say something almost to myself like, “We’ll do one more.” As if to say, “We’re not going to split the remaining cards any further. We’ll just shuffle one more packet.”

7. Take the packet in your right-hand Biddle-grip. Taking over the break with your right thumb.

8. As they shuffle, or as you point to a place on the table for them to place their packet, allow your right hand to hang over the first packet shuffled and drop the cards below the break on top of that packet.

9. After they’ve set down the second packet, give them the third packet to shuffle. Have them replace it on the table when they’re done.

10. You now have three apparently fully shuffled packets on the table. Have them reassembled as in the Jerx Ose False(ish) Cut.

The benefits of this is that there’s a true sense that they shuffled all the cards and reassembled the deck in a random manner.

I’ve been using this as an alternative to the Ron Edwards Holdout mentioned in this post, which I’ve always loved, but which I think is less convincing because the cards are shuffled and being returned to your hands. That is a little cozier and less clean than this method.

Addressing the Weakness

All methods have a trade-off. The trade-off with this technique is that the spectator doesn’t shuffle the full deck together.

The good news is that most people won’t conceptualize this as a weakness. It won’t even occur to them.

But still, I’ve built in some ways to address it.

First, I start by shuffling the full deck myself. This semi-satisfies the impulse to see the full deck shuffled. But still, it’s in my hands, so there’s only so much they can trust in it.

So now, when I cut a portion off and ask them to shuffle, it feels like this is more fair than what I was just doing.

But what if they ask why they’re not shuffling the full deck at the same time?

“Oh, we will,” you say, “but this is the way they do it in casinos to make sure things are perfectly mixed. Shuffle in small packets. Then shuffle those small packet together.”

Then, while they shuffle the third packet, you shuffle the first two packets together, leaving your stack on top. Then you have them push their packet into yours (like they’re Faro’ing the cards into yours). Because your packet is more than twice the size of theirs, you can protect the top stack just by adjusting it so they’re pushing their cards lower down into the stack.

But what if they still say, “Okay, but I want to shuffle all the cards, any way I want, all by myself.”

In this case, you have someone who is too hyperfocused on the shuffling. Give them the deck to shuffle however they want, a move into your Failsafe Trick.

Sample Usage

Here’s a simple, somewhat generic usage, for this.

The four aces start on the bottom of the deck. You go through this procedure and they end up on top.

“Pick up the deck and deal the cards onto the table.”

After they’ve dealt four, you say, “As you go, discard some of the cards by dealing them into the center of the table.”

So they’re dealing through the deck, dealing some to themselves, and discarding others.

Push the discards aside.

Have them deal the cards they kept into four piles. Back and forth, like dealing a card game.

The four Aces will end up one on top of each pile.

“You cut the cards, you shuffled the cards, you decided which cards to keep and which to discard. I haven’t even touched the deck since the beginning. Turn over the top card of each pile.”

Again, this is just a sample usage. I wouldn't necessarily use it to produce the four aces. But you can do a similar process to produce any small group of cards that has some greater meaning in the premise of your trick.

Hard Truths About My Saxophone Playing

Guys, can you help me out with something? Every time I play my saxophone for my friend, he tells me I screwed up the song—even when I know I didn’t. Or he says it wasn’t as good as the original. Do you know a saxophone tune I could play that would shut him up with how good it is, how cool it sounds?

Now… that’s a dumb fucking question, right?

And yet magicians ask versions of it all the time. “What’s a trick I can do that will shut up a heckler?” “What’s a trick I can do for my friend Todd? He always has some criticism or tries to expose me.” “What’s a trick I can do that will really wow my friends? I’ve shown them some stuff, but they don’t always seem interested.”

It’s time for some hard truths.

If your friends are paying attention to your magic and honest enough to tell you when they think they’ve caught the method—that’s a gift. That’s the quickest way you’ll ever improve.

But… if the only reason they engage is to try and bust you, then your friend is corny. Stop performing for them. They don’t want to share the experience; they just want to make you look stupid.

But, Andy, all my friends are like that. If I don’t perform for people like that, I wouldn’t perform for anyone.

Okay—let’s go back to the saxophone for a second.

If I said, “Everyone I know talks shit about my saxophone playing,” there are only two possible explanations:

1. Everyone I know is trash.

2. I’m terrible at playing the saxophone.

(Or, possibly, both.)

And here’s the point: neither of those problems gets solved by me hunting down a “better” song. Just like your issue isn’t fixed by finding a “better” trick.

Now, if you find yourself in this situation, it’s tempting to pin the blame on your audience. “Yes, everyone I know is just some unsupportive piece of shit who can’t stand me bringing joy into their lives with magic. That’s the problem!”

Sorry, that doesn’t let you off the hook. Sure, it stings to realize you might just be bad at magic. But telling yourself “I only attract jerks into my life” should actually feel worse, given what it says about you.

So now it’s time for an honest assessment.

If the people in your life suck, it’s time to douche out your contact list and get some new friends.

I’ve written about that here.

If you know your friends are good people, and it’s more likely that you’re just bad at magic, then this is what I would do…

Take some time off. Maybe a year. If people aren’t reacting, something in your approach is broken. Do you lack confidence? Are you making it too much about yourself? Are you pouring all your energy into fussy sleight-of-hand while never actually connecting with your audience? Are all your tricks obvious little trinkets and unexaminable gaffed items that the audience just dismisses as your little magic toys?

During this break, don’t buy new magic. Instead, pick up Scarne on Card Tricks for a few dollars. Work through every trick on your own. Identify your five favorites. Master them. Build presentations you genuinely find compelling.

After your hiatus, go up to someone you used to perform for a lot and say, “You’ve probably noticed I haven’t been doing magic for a while. I just sort of lost interest in it. But the other day I learned something genuinely fascinating. It’s not magic exactly. It’s… I’m not sure what you’d call it. Here, can I show you?”

Try this out a few times. Are you getting better reactions? If not—and you’re sure your friends aren’t dicks—then you just might not have the instincts to perform magic. It’s okay. Not everyone is good at the things they’d like to be good at.

Does that mean you should stop performing?

No. Not in my opinion. Keep going. You suck. Your audiences aren’t happy. You’re unfulfilled. But it’s just magic.

A lot of people think bad magic is bad for magic. I disagree. Your shitty magic helps set a low bar for what audiences expect. That’s actually a service to anyone who’s figured out how to get good reactions. You’re not “harming the art.” I mean that sincerely. It’s fine to be bad at something you enjoy—so long as it’s not something that eats you alive.

“I enjoy this. I’m not great at it. My friends mostly don’t care. But certainly they’d rather sit through 45 seconds of bad magic than three minutes of me singing poorly. So all in all, they’re making out okay.”

If that’s where you land, that’s fine. Just don’t spend a fortune chasing the trick that’s going to turn it all around. It doesn’t exist.

It’s okay if your hobby doesn’t fill your soul. Just don’t let it drain your bank account at the same time.