24 Disarmers

Magic is so much associated with expressing how clever or “special” you are, that anything you do that undermines that notion is incredibly disarming to people.

It’s like the classic conman move where you give the mark something first (a little money or a small gift). That upfront generosity lowers suspicion, because if someone’s giving you value, your brain resists the idea that they’re trying to take from you.

In magic, I try to do the same thing—except instead of giving away money or favors, I give away the power behind the trick. Sometimes in a way that feels real, sometimes in a way that feels fantastical—but either way, it scrambles expectations. Because the subtext of most magic—whether it’s your seven-year-old nephew or David Copperfield—is basically: “This is a contest. I win if I fool you. And fooling you proves I’m special so you must clap or validate me in some way.” That’s the dynamic people expect.

I want to break that expectation. So in almost every trick I do, I frame it in a way that undermines that model. A framing that downplays my power. That’s very disarming for people who assume the only reason to do magic is to show-off. And it primes them to experience the trick in a different way.

I’ve been writing about this since the beginning of this site, but now I’m formalizing this type of technique with a name: A Dis (plural: Disses)

“Dis” is short for Disarm. But it also plays on the slang “diss” (as in, a diss track). Because in a way, that’s exactly what you’re doing—you’re dissing yourself, undercutting your own power on purpose.

Which brings us here. Below are 24 Disses—broad categories of framings you can use to strip your power when performing

Disses

1. I didn’t do it, someone else did.
   A real or imaginary third party is the one responsible for the magic.

2. I didn’t do it, you did.
   Spectator-as-magician/mindreader.

3. I didn’t do it, some formless power did.
   Fate, luck, coincidence, karma.

4. I didn’t do it, this mystical object did.
   A crystal, charm, cursed relic, haunted object

5. I didn’t do it, this new piece of technology did.
   A futuristic device, app, AI, gadget.

6. I didn’t do it, something paranormal did.
   Ghosts, spirits, ESP, aliens.

7. I didn’t do it. Nothing happened. You’re imagining things.
   Magic as gaslighting (or gaslighting as magic)

8. I didn’t do it, that’s just a weird quirk of mathematics.
   Probability, number patterns, statistics

9. I didn’t do it, that’s just a weird quirk of psychology.
   Suggestion, perception, memory.

10. I did it, but I didn’t mean to.
    Happy accident.

11. I did it, but I was trying to do something else.
    The effect appears as a mistake or failure, not something you’d take credit for.
    “I was trying to make it vanish, but it just shrunk a little. I suck at this.”

12. I did it, but the amount of time I put into this worthless skill is more pathetic than impressive.

    Undermining the impressiveness of what you did by suggesting you invested too much time/energy to make it happen.

    “Yes, I can cut to the aces, but only because I was a loser with no friends who could devote three hours a day for years to learning this skill in high school. You could learn it too if you invested that much time. In fact, you could probably learn it in less time than I did.”

13. I did it, but I don’t know how I did it.
    Performer plays confused or out of control.

14. I didn’t do it, this is just something that always happens.
    An improbability that bizarrely always occurs

15. I didn’t do it, nature did.
    Gravity, magnetism, animal intuition.

16. I didn’t do it, this old custom did.
    Tradition, folklore, rituals.

17. I didn’t do it, science did.
    Framed as physics, chemistry, or other science demo.

18. I didn’t do it, a temporal disruption did.
    Time travel, time loops, multiple universes.

19. I didn’t do it, your perception did.

    Déjà vu, lost memories, Mandela effect.

20. I didn’t do it, it was always going to happen.
    Destiny or inevitability frame.

21. I didn’t do it, the trick does itself.
    Framing something as “self-working” when it’s not.

22. I did it, but only because I cheated.
    Presented as exposure, but really layered deception.

23. I didn’t do it, this is just the way the world works if you pay attention.
    Magic presented as heightened observation

24. I want to do it, but I don’t really know how. Can you help me with this?
    Changes a trick from “Behold, my power!” to a humble, collaborative experience where they’re pulling for you.

Notes:

1. The audience doesn’t have to believe your framing to be disarmed by these things. The simple fact that you’re not explicitly taking credit changes the dynamic. They don’t need to buy that your childhood invisible friend is whispering the card in your ear. Just by framing it that way, you’ve shifted the experience out of “battle of wits” territory into an immersive fiction.

2. You do have to actually invest in the premise, though. If you just toss off, “Do you believe in fate? I believe I’m fated to win every poker hand I play,” before going into your card trick, it will just come off as patter. And they probably won’t even remember you said it.

   But if you build a premise around the frame, you can make it matter to people in a way that hooks them. “I haven’t really played poker in…gosh…over 20 years, I guess. I used to play every week back in college. But one time I was rushing to a card game off campus and I ran over my neighbor’s cat. She was this old woman—everyone called her The Witch. We meant it as a joke, but when I told her what happened, she just held out her hand, twisted her fingers into this awful shape, and muttered something in what sounded like Latin, or maybe something even older. Then she told me I was cursed to never win another poker hand. Ever. No matter what, the cards would always turn against me. I can show you. Let’s make it simple and just use 10 cards…”