Details of the Not-So-Obvious

Har! Har!

Office 2007

I just installed Office 2007 Ultimate. Neat programs like the following:

Word
Excel
PowerPoint
Access
Groove
InfoPath
OneNote
Outlook
Publisher
& all the tools, etc. associated with the package.

I waited as long as I could with 2003, and then I could wait no more. So, out with the old and in with the new.

Oh, yeah. I also found a slew of pdf's about how to use all this new-fangled stuff.

But, please. Don't ask me how much I paid for it all. Then I'd have to lie to you.

The Art of Advice

Most people talk too much when they're giving advice.
On and on and round and round they go.
Back to the beginning and then
Right down the same fool path.
Again.

Advice is an off-beat matter.
Those who need it won't listen.
Those who listen don't need it.
Give advice that matters, and do it in one sentence.
Then STFU.

Details of the Not-So-Obvious

This is a picture that one of my best students sent me. I love this one.

new kitchen knife

The picture above really puts the knife's size in perspective. It's about 17 1/2" long from butt to tip.

This is how it looks in my kitchen.

German steel. Sharp as a sonofabitch. Cuts meat so thin my inlaws will never come back! ( I like that one still!)

I got it for about $30 at the local horse and bull show. I really like it. It does the job.

Obama Slammer

Smiles for everyone. A new day has dawned.

Liston

Singular, "liston". Plural, "listones". The best translation is "ribbon."

Recently Sighted

Monse. At the ranch. Looking sly as ever.

How's the weather? Not baa-aa-aad. And please don't eat me.

Art hanging at the hotel. One of my favorites.

Looks a bit like Vegas, eh?

These little buggers will burn your tongue off. And they have a nice flavor, too, once you get used to them burning your tongue off.

Details of the Not-So-Obvious

Where the magic comes from is what it is.

The character of the Dubious Bastard has always been a trickster as far back as is remembered by anyone. He has always been here to show us that everything we believe to be true about nature, our belief system, the universe, and even the trickster himself is not to be trusted. He has always shown and said that we can't nor shouldn't really believe reality in general because it is all "jest a trick, pal." We search for truth and meaning when there is only chaos. We should stop trying to figure it all out because we know that no one ever has and we know that no one ever will.

Then one rainy day, the DB trickster was stuck trying to drive a car in a mind-numbing traffic jam, and he was again thinking about how Magic doesn't really exist anymore in the heart of man, nor even in his own. "There is no such thing as Magic anymore, pal, it's all jest a trick," he said to himself. "Jest a trick, pal"... no wonder he was disappointed with the time he had spent with "jest tricks..."

In the old days, when Man relied on the Earth for her kindness and bounty, in the days before the advance of the Industrialists' Rape Machines, Magic itself was strong in the heart of man and it Guided him and Protected him. Magic freed him from fear. Magic provided bountiful harvests. Magic provided freedom from want. Magic destroyed his enemies. Magic made magnificent order out of utter chaos. Magic foretold his future.

But on that day... that rainy day, as the Industrialists were flailing through their last miserable death throes and the Informationalists were struggling to take over their positions in what was left of this world's economy, as the car horns squealed and blared at each other to no avail, as the world spun through the chaos we think is our universe, as the rain fell on this rainy day... Magic let itself stand on the very edge of extinction. It looked down, and thought about its future.

And finally, after some contemplation, Magic decided to reveal itself that day as still very much alive and still very much in power.

The Trickster was relieved of his duties on that rainy day and evicted from the premises. No more would he be allowed to confuse the world with his "jest tricks." No more would he be able to cast doubts on every aspect of life. No more would he politely be permitted to challenge or undermine gentle people's belief systems.

As the truth was told, it turned out that nobody wanted him around anyway, and were really glad to see him go. Upon the trickster's eviction, he just walked away, muttering something that was never ever really understood by anyone. And that's probably just as well for all.

And there in his place, stood a Magician. And the Magician understood his powers. And he understood his position. And he understood his place. And he went forth into the new age.

Which is a good thing... or there would have been nobody to drive the car.

Carson City, Nevada

If you ever get the chance to go to Carson City, Nevada, then go to the state museum. It's just a few blocks north of the Capitol building.

All the Carson City Mint stuff is there and they have a complete collection of every coin (gold and silver) ever minted in ol' CC. The coins are in a safe and behind bars, but you can still see them. Neat stuff.

It amazed me how such a little town held such a wealth of history. One might think that the big cities hold that ace, but the older I get, the more I realize that the real work is done in the little towns.

Virginia City and the silver mine are next. I'll drag my kids along with me for that one. Road trip!!

The "Magician in Trouble" Plot

I have eliminated all "Gee, I can't tell. Is the Magician in Trouble?" plots from my working sets. They just don't work for my character.

What does work for me is when I tell them in advance, with a wink and a smile, that I "always mess up this trick." That way they can develop a reasonable expectation of what's about to happen. That way they're aren't going to feel "tricked" when I magically save my own sorry butt. That way I can act out the piece assuredly, elaborating on the facets of the "magician in trouble" (yeah, right!) plot.

I figured out how this works for me by actually messing up a trick that I "always mess up." Does this sound familiar? Does this sound ironic? It sure didn't feel either of those ways when I messed it up.... but I digress...

I was doing the Spectator Spells to His Own Card After the Magician Couldn't Find Water Even If His Ass Fell Out of a Boat trick. I was using a break and just a break to keep track of the whole thing, and while during the shuffle, I lost the darn break! The break vanished into thin air. I knew I was in deep doo-doo.

I remember the wave of emotions that washed over me. I remember the heat. I remember the sweat on the back of my neck and palms of my hands. I remember the speechlessness and my eyes wandering, flicking around the layout while my mind raced for a solution that was nowhere in sight. I remember the tunnel-vision. I kept saying, "Really, guys, I goofed this one. It's gone. I goofed. It's gone." We sat there a good two minutes (a lifetime!) with nothing to say or do.

And then, as fortune would have it, the stars lined up, the clouds opened and the sun shone down on the deck still in my hand. The deck split open in my hand and I was able to look at one card. That one card told me instantly where the other card was, and I was able to bring the trick to a successful conclusion, flying by the seat of my pants. I can attest that it was the strongest trick I did that night. They talked about that one, not the others, for the rest of the night. They said, "I really thought you messed that trick up!" I told them, "I did! I did!" We laughed about it until sun-up.

That experience taught me how I should do this MIT plot. It is the only way I'll do it. Ever. Nothing else works for me.

What's this got to do with the price of Bicycle decks at Wal-Mart? I'll tell you. The Magician in Trouble plot is a strong plot. It is a powerful plot. It is a plot that will get people talking for a long time. The only problem with it, (and it's a doozy..) is that there are infinitely more ways to mess it up than there are ways to get it right. When it's right, it's a KO. When it's wrong, it's, at best, contemptuous, and at worst, downright insulting.

Guess which card I saw.

That Dumb Dog

A picture of the culprit. He has trash all over the floor and guilt written all over his face.

That Dog

My daughter's dog is very talented. He knows all his vowels; a, e, i, o, and u. And his pronounciation isn't half-bad either. Some people think he's pretty smart.

So, to test his lingual limits, I asked him a few questions.

"Hey, Chato!" I said. (Chato is my daughter's dog's name. It means "flat-nosed.") "What is the nickname of the arbritrator in an American Footbal game?" "Ref!" replied Chato. "That's right!" I said. "Good dog!" Chato wagged his tail and got a pat on his head from me.

"Hey, Chato!" I said. "What do you call the part of the song that the lead guitarist plays over and over? It's the part of the song we all remember." "Riff!" replied Chato. "That's right, too!" I said. "Good dog!" Chato wagged his tail and got another pat on his head from me.

"Hey, Chato!" I said. "How does sandpaper feel?" "Ruff!" replied Chato. "That's right again!" I said. "Good dog!" Chato wagged his tail and got another pat on his head from me.

"Hey, Chato!" I said. "What is the slang name for those funny cigarettes that Patrick used to smoke?" "Reef!" replied Chato. "That's right again!" I said. "Good dog!" Chato wagged his tail and got another pat on his head from me.

"Hey, Chato!" I said. "When I'm in my bedroom, and I look up, what do I see?" "Roof!" replied Chato. That's when I kicked Chato right square in his butt-hole. "No, Chato, you dumb dog. It's not a roof. It's a ceiling."

Local Art Show

Collection of images that struck my fancy from a local art show.

Manifest 2008

The first mistake of Art is to assume that it's serious.

In fact, there is not a single shred of evidence existing in favor of the idea that life itself is serious.

I have yet to see any problem, however complicated, which, when looked at in the right way, did not become still more complicated.

One of the soundest rules for me to remember when trying to figure this stuff out is that whatever is about to happen is happening already.

So I'm cashing out my cleverness and buying into bewilderment.

And I've noticed that what the world REALLY needs is more people who specialize in the impossible.

Now It's not Skinner

Last I heard, the Oil and Water routine mentioned (a lot) earlier may or may not belong to Skinner, regardless what he published in "Classic Samplers."

Word has it belongs to Aldo Colombini. Yeah, that Italian guy.

How does that grab you? By the short hairs?

Machines

The machines we looked at today were touchscreen racebook machines. The machine shows a dog or a horse race every 5 minutes and the player can bet a few different combinations on the outcome of the race.

The information is fed through an internet connection that originates in Austria. They collect races from around the world and shuffle them together and broadcast them to account holders. One of their sites is http://www.global-dogbet.com/.

The machines are pretty austere and the screenshots are pretty complicated. It would take a lot of well-written signage or an actual person being there to explain to these people how to use the machine to make a bet or two. I didn't like that at all.

Also, there are no other machines like these in Guadalajara. We would have "exclusive rights" on them, which means we would be the guinea pigs. I don't like that either. I have a hard time justifying the real estate when I know that we are going to have to put in a helluva lot of extra work to get the things to fly.

And finally, the killer, each machine costs 2,500 Euros. That's about $42,000 Mexican Pesos. And yes, that is what each machine costs. My opinion is that they could provide the machines for free, or for the cost of the installation, and then take a bit bigger cut of the handle.

Overall, if we are the first group to have these machines in the entire country of Mexico, I want them for free. It ain't my job to prove that these games will make money here. It's thier job.

Simple Transposition cont.

I have come to find out that the simple transposition is (heavily) based on the Gemini Count. This is a Bro. John Hammon sleight and was published in Richard's Almanac in 1983. Look for it on page 125, or thereabouts.
The publication gives an in-depth explanation of the Gemini Count and its four phases. The count is pretty spiffy, but I will say that kicking the top card up and diagonally to the left hasn't really been necessary for me. All I've needed is the buckle on the bottom and then my right thumb and middle finger pull out the one in the middle.
Bro. Hammon's The Signed Card, as written up in the Almanac, is the next big work. It reads great and the irony of "I won't touch that card again" is right up my alley. I find it very easy to work along those kinds of lines.

The Donkey in the Hole

People don’t believe what they see, they see what they want to believe.

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey. He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down. A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!

Simple Tansposition

Simple is good. I like simple. I have been getting very good responses with this simple little item. When I show them the cards in my hand, they tend to grab for the other cards. No gaffs, no fuss, no muss, no worries. Fun stuff.

Stone Temple Drinking Establishment

This is the front of a bar down the road a ways from where I live. I think it is pretty cool.

Video Link

Here's a link to some very cool magic videos. Membership is free, so sign up.

www.magicvideodepot.com

A couple of my others are there too. Look for Patrick Differ.

I'll be shooting a couple more videos soon. I already have their names.

"Hey, Dumbass. Y'ought Not Drive through Flooded Areas"
(subtitled "Darwin Only Blinks Once")

and

"Cops Doing Aerobics."

Oil and Water Rides Again

Way back here

http://magic-fridays.blogspot.com/2008/04/locations_29.html

I talked about Oil and Water and the surprise ending. Here's the video to go with it.

Comments are appreciated. Any and all.

Silent Movie

OK, maybe not completely silent. WHOGAF.

One Ghost Card. From "The Collected Works of Alex Elmsley, Vol. 1"

My Hero

Heros are people we admire, we respect, we emulate. We find them. We follow them. We learn everything we can about them so that we can mold and reshape our lives to better be like them.

We have our heros and our idols, our athletes, our scientists, our billionaires, our religious icons, our rock stars, and our parents. Their pictures grace our humble abodes so that we can see them and absorb their essence every day of our mediocre lives. Their images act like our lucky charms, like our talismans, like the things that produce the magical and miraculous effect of making us more like them.

Do you have a hero? Who is this person? Why do you admire them? Why do you want to be like them? Are they skilled? Are they graceful? Are they rich? Are they famous for the accomplishments? Are they infamous for their escapades? Are they who you wish you were?

I have a hero. My hero supplies the necessaries of life to me and my family. My hero is someone that gives us support, endurance, and strength. My hero lays his life on the line every single day to provide this to me and my family. He takes great risks and dodges great perils to get to where he has to go. People tend to impede my hero's progress to his manfest, either intentional or not. Some people have inflicted great bodily harm on my hero, but that doesn't stop him, nor even slow him down.

My hero is a nomad, a wanderer, a traveler who knows every nook and passageway of our city. His travels are legendary in the annals of voyage. In his travels, he earns for meager compensation from his organization. He relies heavily on our contributions to sustain his livelihood. But does that deter him? Oh, no!

He rides an motorcycle with great strength, skill, endurance, grace, wisdom, and velocity through all climates, through all traffic jams, and over every sidewalk and island if the needs be. His brakes often go unused until he screeches to a stop in front of my house.

He is weatherproof, and so is the thermal insulating hot-box that is bolted to the back seat of his bike. He keeps my family's sustenance in that box, double insulated in a thermal bag, to keep our product fresh and warm all the way to our door in 30 minutes or less, or it's free.

My hero is the Pizza Delivery Guy. I tip him well.

A Bit of Knowledge

Never let money get in the way of your friendships.
Never let friendship get in the way of your money.

Keep them separate. Keep them apart.
One has a way of messing up the other.

Spectator Cuts the Aces

I shot this a couple of years ago. I still do this one exactly the same way. In real time, a spectator cuts the deck into the four piles, but I do it myself in the video. Expect miracles.

More vids as soon as I find my darn camera.

Money Tends to Fly Away

Money tends to fly away.

I have it in my hand,
Then it's gone.
So I have to get some more.
(two-handed toss-up)

Money tends to fly away.

I hold on to it tighter,
But it isn't really there.
Good thing I can get some more.
(ROV)

Money tends to fly away.

I make a grab,
And it's only thin air.
Luckily, there's more.
(French)

Money tends to fly away.

Now I'm sure I have it.
Nothing is sure these days.
Now I wonder myself.
(two-handed drop-off)

Money tends to fly away.

I wish I could double it.
But we all know
That's impossible.
(]]

Or is it?

Sheldon's Story

Part I

Dying is easy. It’s the “living” part that’s hard.

Everybody knows about death and dying, even if they don’t know exactly when or where they’re going to die. Maybe they’ll be old, maybe they’ll be young. Maybe they’ll die accidentally, maybe on purpose. Maybe they’ll die quickly, maybe not.

Not everybody knows about life and living, even if they have their dreams and prayers. What we want isn’t always what we get. Other things like Karma, Fate, Destiny, and Luck keep getting in the way of our thinking and our planning. We simply cannot predict the future, no matter how hard we try. And we keep trying.

Sheldon was one of those guys that rode passenger through life, looking for the good driver to trust, lucky charms in his pocket and around his neck, hoping for the best ride of his life. He let the steer him until he was in his mid-thirties. He let his lucky charms guide his opportunities. And Sheldon kept hoping for the best to somehow happen in his life.

When I met him, I considered him the best story teller I had ever heard. I still do. His winding words held his audiences captive and on the very edge of their seats. He spun tales that poked at our hearts and imaginations. His stories were obscene and hairy; they were hot and wet; they went straight up and they were bright red. He amazed us. He entertained us. He enlightened us and he thrilled us. The girls... they adored him. And the boys..., well, we respected him. All within earshot thought of the world differently because of him. We couldn’t take our eyes off of him. Sheldon was cool.

Unknown to most people, including himself, Sheldon became one of the best engine builders and mechanics of his time. He came up building motors, putting them in cars, and making them work. His engines were built from parts and pieces. He started by boring the block cylinders and then he went from there. Part by part, piece by piece, slowly and patiently, painstakingly, precisely, and naturally, he built those babies like they were his own flesh and blood. By the time he was done, and the engine was fitted into the car, his craft had become an art form. His motors spun like tops, and his cars went real, real fast. They howled like the wind. They were scary, and they were fucking beautiful.

Wasted Smiles

I guess when three million people live on top of each other, and not a single one of them has faith in their own system, some things get lost in the shuffle and fall into the cracks. Things like please and thank you, holding the door for someone, coming to a full stop to allow a really old lady cross the street, waiting in line... things like that... they get lost. People forget about them. Or, better yet, their values shift. What they once thought was important no longer is.

There really isn't enough time to practice classroom values when three million people who have no faith in their own system are breathing down your back. You should hurry up, pal, and get out of their way, pal. You should quit wasting their time, pal. You should just take care of your business, pal.

Even surrounded by that negative energy for the last four years, I can still spot an American a mile away in this clusterfuck of three million whose values have shifted away from their teaching and preaching. Heck, I was in a supermarket near my house just last week and two walked by me and I knew who they were, and how far away from home they were. Wanna know how? I'll tell you how I can tell. I can tell by the way they walk. I can tell by the looks in their eyes. They act differently. They have different auras.

Now I shared something with them that they also shared with me. We shared it together, even if it was for a fleeting moment. This little something we shared bonded us immediately and we both knew who we were. Nothing needed to be said, we both just knew. We shared a common courtesy that we both grew up with and decided to keep well into our adulthood.

It still amazes me after these years just how far this common courtesy will go. It still amazes me how good I felt after giving it and then receiving it with those Americans in the supermarket by my house.

I will share it with you when we meet because we both still think it is important. Sadly, I don't share it with those who won't do anything to build their own faith in their own system, because they don't think it is important. I quit sharing this important-to-me courtesy with them. I got tired of realizing that with them, they were just wasted smiles.

Dialog

"I have something to tell you that you aren't going to like."
"Hmmm. OK. Tell me."
"No, I don't think I should."
"I think you should, and I think you should right now."
"No, I think I'll tell you later."
"Please don't play this game with me. You know I don't like it. Just tell me."
"Promise you won't get mad?"
"No."
"Then I better not tell you."
"Why are you screwing around with me like that?"
"Don't get mad. You always get mad when I try to talk to you."
"I'm not mad. I'm frustrated by this game."
"What game?"

"Just tell me, ok?"
"OK. I am going to work with my dad at night, from 8:00 p.m. until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning."
"Why do you want to do that? You know how he is."
"What do you mean 'how he is'? Besides, we need the money."
"Do we? I didn't know that. I thought we were doing all right. Isn't the hotel doing well?"
"The hotel is doing fine. We are selling a lot of rooms. It's just that I think we need the money."
"I'm making good money at the school and you're doing all right at the hotel. Why do we need the money?"
"OK. We don't need the money. I just want the money."
"How much is he going to pay you? What do you have to do?"
"I go there and stop the stealing and make sure everybody is doing their job. He's going to pay me $200 a week."
"How many nights a week?"
"Every night."
"Every night for six or seven hours for $200 a week? As soon as you walk in there, you'll save him $200 a night. He can pay you better than that."
"No, it's OK. It really isn't about the money. He needs my help."


"I understand he needs help. He's surrounded himself with drug addicts, hookers, beggars, and thieves. And he pays them jack shit. Hell, even his own sons fall into one or more of those categories. I bet he needs help."
"So you're not mad?"
"I'm not mad. I'm worried."
"Oh, don't worry. I'll be safe."
"I'm not worried about you being safe. I know you're going to be safe."

"I'm worried that you and I already don't spend enough time together, and now you are going to start working nights, too. You'll be asleep when I get up, and I'll be asleep when you get home. We won't ever see each other."
"Oh, don't worry about that."
"I am worried. I don't want that to happen. I want us to spend more time together. We don't already and if you start working there, it won't be good for us."
"You can come with me. We can spend time there."
"That's not what I mean. We won't be spending time together. You'll be working with drunks and hookers, and I'll just be watching. It's just not the same."
"So you don't want me to help my father, that's what you're saying..."
"I'm saying that we won't ever see each other if you do."
"Are you telling me I can't?"
"No, I'm not. I don't like the idea at all and I'm asking you not to do it."
"Well, I'm going to do it anyway. We need the money."
"I wish you wouldn't."
"Awww. Don't be that way! You worry too much about stupid things."
"No, I don't."

10 Things I want know about you

You asked me for 10 things I would want to do, and that got me thinking along these lines. These are ten I meant to find out about you before we left each other. I know it's a little late now, but if you could find a way to tell me, I would still love to know.

1. What's the longest time you've ever gone without sleep?
2. What's your favorite school supply?
3. What's your favorite tree? Your favorite bird? Your favorite flower?
4. Can you describe something that happened to you that you can't explain?
5. Who do you ask for advice?
6. What did you do on your 13th birthday?
7. If you could have a super-power, what would it be?
8. What is the best costume you've ever worn?
9. Where do you go when you want absolute peace and quiet?
10. What is the most memorable class you've ever taken?

Inner Dialog

I beleive that people don't do things because they need to, instead they do things because they want to. My inner dialog runs along the lines of "What does this person want?"

In the beginning, I could clearly identify their superficial wants... meaning those on the surface and readily apparent. I want a glass of water. I want to go to the movies. I want to go to Paris and eat snails.

After a while, I started wondering why they wanted these things. I steered conversations to get past their superficial wants and desires and get deeper into their motivations behind them. Direct questions don't work as well because people's defenses go up as soon as they figure out I am prying. I have learned to be subtle and let them talk more.

When I feel I know what a person wants, I sort them into two groups. These two groups are hard for me to define, but something Albert Einstein is said to have said comes pretty darn close.
Quote:

The ideals which have lighted me on my way and time after time given me new
courage to face life cheerfully, have been Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. . . .
The ordinary objects of human endeavour -- property, outward success, luxury --
have always seemed to me contemptible.

I like the people in the first group. I don't like the people in the second group. That's my inner dialog.

Notes on Novelty

My first year working in the Nevada casinos taught me that "you get out of it what you put into it." And this I have carried forward with me ever since. Despite this note of positiveness, working in a casino can be DEADLY BORING. For the guests, it is exciting, uplifting, and inspiring. For employees, it is the same old thing day after day.

During my first year, everything was new to me. As an employee I was riding the same waves as all the guests. Wow! This is fun! I wonder what is going to happen next! Right near the end of that year, I started noticing that it was the same old thing over and over again. What a drag.

Then I heard a couple of old-timers (with a combined total of 70 years in the business...) talking about things they'd seen in said years. They were swapping stories to see if the other guy had ever seen what they'd seen.

"Have you ever seen someone barf on a blackjack table?" "Oh, yeah. More than once."
"Have you ever seen one of the dice from the craps table bounce right into a buxom woman's cleavage?" "Sure, sure. Happens all the time."
"Have you ever seen the stickman get the stick caught on his sleeve between himself and the rail, sending the stick so high in the air that it took a full 10 seconds for the stick to go all the way up and then fall two feet away from a little old lady?"
"Woah... nope. Never seen that before. Have you?"
"Yep. At the Pioneer Club in 1989. We were working day shift..."

Nope, never seen that before.

That response has stayed with me ever since then. I had never heard of such an approach to any business. After that I was alert and alive for things I had never seen before. I walked in fresh every day ready to get out of it exactly what I put into it.... something new, something rare, something fresh.

This doesn't run as an "active" inner dialog for me. It is more secondary, perhaps subconscious. But when I see something rare, unique, and certainly unusual, the first thing that pops into my mind is...

Nope, never seen that before.

Extreme

Don't you just hate it when the safest thing for you and your buddy to do right now is JUMP OVER THE SIDE OF THE CLIFF?? Fuck. I know I just hate it.

No, that's not me... I promise. But it sure the hell does look a lot like Mexico to me.

One of my most favorite pictures of all time.

Long shot of the open market

More to follow.

Smile!

Dialog

"Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"Why are you laughing like that? It's not that funny."

"Actually, I think it is kinda funny if you think about it."

"No it isn't. How could you possibly think that?"

"I guess I don't take some things as seriously as you do. I think it's funny."

"Well, you're just dumb. I don't know why you don't take this more seriously."

"I know."

"You know what?"

"I learned a long time ago that most things aren't really that serious so I quit worrying about them and started laughing at them."

"Are you crazy? Everything is serious!"

"No it's not."

"Life is serious. Work is serious. Money is serious."

"Only if you look at it that way."

"Well, I do."

"I know."

"You think you know, but you don't know anything."

"You might be right."

"Oh, and you think you're right?"

"It isn't really as important to me as it is to you to be right about this."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not taking you seriously."

Starlight

The lyrics of the song "Starlight", by a band called Muse.

Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die

Starlight
I will be chasing the starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore

Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold
You in my arms

My life
You electrify my life
Let's conspire to re-ignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive

But I'll never let you go
If you promised not to fade away
Never fade away

Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations

Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold
You in my arms

Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die

And I'll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away

Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations

Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold
You in my arms
I just wanted to hold

Reprinted without permission, you can bet on that.

Connections

I saw those people who sat in a cheap pisshole and paid $5 for a $1 bottle of beer to look 25¢ ass and I said, "Hey mentos, save your breath, save your spunk, and save me the time of hearing your sorry-ass story. I got news for you. Nobody gives a shit how much money you've earned, how much you have or what you do with it. They only care about themselves."

It came as no surprise to me when my words went unheeded. No surprise at all.

The Clan

If you know, you don't need to ask.

If you need to ask, you don't need to know.

Locations

Lopez de Legaspi #2420

Oil and Water is a card trick. Its effect is pretty well known amongst magicians, and perhaps even a few laymen. The premise is simple enough to understand. The magician has a few red cards and a few black cards. The black cards are interwoven into the red cards, Red, Black, Red, Black, etc. and then the entire packet is broken into two piles. In the blink of an eye, the cards are magically separated into their respective colors, red cards in one packet, and black cards in the other. This is similar to how oil and water separate themselves when mixed.

Oil and Water presentations hold a special interest because they have bugged and bothered me for ages. Most, if not all, of the presentations I've ever seen all just seem too "magiciany" to me. The presentations lack conflict and climax, both vital elements of good theater. Sure they all have a good beginning, a strong middle, but none of them have a decent climax, meaning no ending in sight. Wait a minitue. Did I just say, "No climax?" WTF? That's not magic!

Instead, they all reek of “Hey, lookee what Mr. Magician can do! (until the end of frickin time...)” They lack substance and form. And after the first magical separation, the effect repeats itself ad nausea, making the further separations predictable, therefore anti-climactic. And how can I make people feel comfortable if I can't offer them a climax? Boggles the mind.

In all the years I have played with the trick and its different presentations, I haven't been able to figure a decent presentation. I can do the darned trick. But I don’t like to do it because I haven’t been able to figure out how I want to do it. I have played with many of the straight-up "Oil and Water" and "Oil and Vinegar" plots but, while the audiences "enjoyed" them, I could tell that there was no climax. I have thought about the Democrats vs. Republicans, Communists vs. Capitalists, royalty and peons, rich and poor, racial segregation, cats and dogs: we could list every popular (or not so popular) yin and yang and I bet that I have considered them all for presentation of Oil and Water. Heck man, I even played around with the "Reality vs. BS" plot last year and finally decided that it still didn’t have what I wanted, even though it came pretty darn close.

However.

Lately I have been real keen on Skinner’s “Oil and Water Ride Again” as described in his book Classic Sampler. I really, really like the routine because after showing the red and black cards magically separating a couple of times, it kicks your ass in the end when all the cards are found to be just one color and the other color has flat-out disappeared. No shit, man. All the cards are shown and the other color is nowhere to be found. This ending is soooo much better because it punches out a solution that all the other routines lack, thus giving the routine a clear-cut, KO ending. Tied in with a brief physics lesson; it has all the makings of a classic.

This makes me think that all those omnipresent, dichotomy-based presentations in the initial stages of Oil and Water have been all wrong, all wrong, all wrong. The key to the whole darn thing, the presentational aspect that makes it all work is the heart-stopping and powerful kicker ending. The climax.

Life's Little Lessons, My Son

Many, many years ago, my father gave me some worldly advice. These items follow:

• Never play cards with a man named "Doc."
• Never eat at a place called "Mom's."
• And never, but never, marry a woman who has more problems than you do.

To these invaluable tidbits of father-to-son advice, I would like to make comments on and contribute additional insights that I have acquired in my own travels.

First item... amend it to read Never play cards with a man named "Doc", nor with anybody named after a cities, counties, or states. "Amarillo" Slim can and will take your money faster than you can fart. So will the "Cincinnati Kid." And playing cards with anybody with the words "Reno" or "Vegas" or "New Jersey" or "Nevada" anywhere in their names, on their tattoos, or on their clothing is what I consider a very bad risk. You might be better off just writing them a check for the money.

Second item... amend it to read Never eat at a place called "Mom's", nor any place called "Eat", nor "Tacos Mexico." These greasy-spoons' specialties consist of flies and double-diarrhaea. You will never have been so sick in your whole life. It is a painful lesson to learn the hard way. Heed my warnings now. Enough said.

Third item... no changes. Not even one.

Add to this list one of my own. Never swing on a 3-0 pitch. This one came to me while watching a baseball game. I watched the pitcher throw three straight balls and thought to myself, "Hey batter, you don't even have to swing." If someone is that bad, all you have to do is wait. There is never a need to prove your own strength when the other person is falling.

There you have it folks. Heed these words wisely. Avoid the embarrassment and pain of having to learn things the hard way. And remember...

Don't squat with your spurs on.

Personality Templates

Alfred's comments on the previous posts have reminded me of some other stuff I learned while working in the casinos. The training involved personality types, or templates, understanding them, identifying them, and using them as predictive models to increase cohesiveness and teamwork in the work environment.

I was able to use these predictive models very successfully. The models (or templates) started with a four-way split of personality types.

• A-type personalities.


• B-type personalities.


• C-type, and


• D-type.
  

A-types are what most people call "Alphas." They comprise about 10% of the work population. They are the leaders, the can-do's, the ever-positive, ever-energetic types. They are outgoing, gregarious, and usually non-stop talkers. They believe that anything can be done, especially by themselves. Picture in your mind the greatest used-car salesman you ever saw. They are A-types. They are stimulated by positiveness and the can-do spirit. They are discouraged by nay-sayers, bummers, and people that say, "It can't be done that way."

B-types, "Walking Encyclopaedeas," as I like to call them, are the information hounds. They comprise another 10% of the population. They want to know everything that is going on. They have vast knowledge of current events, trivia, and can usually recall events that happened long after most others have forgotten. In the casino, they're the ones that can tell you the house advantages of every bet in the joint. They can tell you what your advantage is in Blackjack if your first card is an Ace. (52%) They are stimulated by knowledge and information and, most of all, the truth. They are discouraged by falsehoods, closed-door meetings (they want to know what is going on), and all other missrepresentations.

C-types, the "Security Guards", comprise a massive 70% of the population. I call them Security Guards because their main concern is security, namely their own security. They like to feel safe and unthreatened in their work environment. They like the feeling that they've done a good job because it makes them feel good about themselves and they know that they'll have a job tomorrow. They don't respond well to threats or reprimands because it makes them worry about their mortgages and car payments. 7 of every 10 people fit into this category.

D-types are the "Accountants." They are the ducks-in-a-row types. They can quote procedures as if they wrote them themselves. They know where everything belongs and are the ones to put them there. They plan their day and follow handwritten schedules. They are stimulated by orderliness, scheduling, and rank-and-file organization. They are discouraged by chaotic behavior, any lack of planning, and people who do things without thinking first.

Now we know the types, this is how to use them. Please consider the diagram at the top. The models are placed so that A is diagonally opposite from D, and B is opposite from C. These diagonals (as indicated by the arrows) indicate a high probability of naturally-occuring personality conflicts between the two personality types.

A naturally conflicts with D because the can-do people conflict with the bean-counters.

• A says, "Hey, let's give away $10,000 in a slot tournament!"
• D says, "Whoa! Do you have any idea how much money that is?"

A + D = Conflict

B-types naturally conflict with C-types. One is only interested in the truth, the other is only interested in survival.

• B says, "Hey, cool! I read that by the year 200x, all table games will be electronic."
• C says, "What's so cool about that?"

B + C = Conflict

Contrarily, lateral personality models, such as A + B, B + D, D + C, and C + A, tend to augment each other in the work environment. An example of this is when A feeds off of B's information to do the things he wants to do, and B feeds off of A's enthusiam because he feels like his knowledge is being put to good use. Other examples occur often, and I found that the actions/reactions between the A's and C's were the most interesting. I always chuckled at their game of "Follow the Leader."

Of course, these aren't hard and fast rules. Most people don't fall into just one category. In fact, most of the time, people exhibit characteristics of two or three templates. The trick is to find the one that they display most of the time, as it is usually the best bet.

And another note before I wrap this up. During our training, we were asked where we would place ourselves on the grid. Often people would place themselves into one category and were very surprised when they found out that everybody else placed them into a different one. The hard lesson there was that we rarely see ourselves as others see us.

Quote of the Day

The best index to a person's character is (a) how he treats people who can't do him any good, and (b) how he treats people who can't fight back.

Abigail Van Buren

I always used to think that the best index to a person's character was how they responded after being nudged out of their "comfort zone." I amassed lots of evidence to support my conclusions while working in the casinos. In that business, we were constantly being nudged out of our zones, either by large-money bets, obnoxious and drunken losers, or untrustworthy employees.

I learned in the very early stages of my career that the best way to handle these types of situations was to "never let them see you sweat." And that bit of advice worked wonders for me. As a dealer, it paid off hundreds of times. Dice could, and often would be flying through the air when the big money hit the layout. One cannot buckle in those situations because it could mean everybody's job. Stay calm, stay cool, stay collected.... stay employed.

Later, as a manager, customers and staff would come running to me with their umpteenth dilemma of the day, one for which they had no solution, nor clue as to what to do. Stressed, befuddled, confused, often on the verge of panic, desperate for guidance, these humans came to me for solutions. Often I would think, "Yeah, I've seen/heard this one before", and I would provide the fix they craved. And off they would go, happy as kittens with their recovered sense of security.

But sometimes, some new and oddball dilemma would arise, one with which I was not familiar, and I would find myself in new territory, and slightly out of my own comfort zone. When it did happen that way, I was often found chuckling to myself! A nervous reaction? Flippancy? Anarchy? Nah. I just had to laugh because the epinephrine and adrenaline rush. The chuckling was a healthy stress response. I would think to myself, "Nope, never seen that one before! Wait'll I tell the others! I can't wait to see their faces when I tell them." After that thought-process, I would formulate a viable solution and present it to whomever was requesting it. And off they went again, happy as kittens, with me chuckling to myself.

My solutions, often as oddball as the problems themselves, were what made me successfull in the business. I had a skill that not too many others possessed, specifically being able to be creative. I noticed that most people don't have very strong creative skills and I always thought I knew why. I thought that people weren't creative because they couldn't react very well to stress.

I have since found this to be false. People don't lack creativity because they're stressed out. People are not creative because they've never been taught to be creative. It doesn't matter as much their emotional state as does their actual ability and experience being creative.

That revelation got me thinking about my original premise; that the best index of a person's character is how well they respond to stressful situations. I figured out that I wasn't getting enough information to make a decent evaluation. So I kept looking.

After reading Ms. Van Buren's quote, a lot of it fell into place. I have seen people act perfectly calm, cool, and collected while visciously berating a waiter for an overdone steak. I have experienced Napoleanic policemen abusing their powers with tourists regarding simple parking infractions. I have seen and heard many insults slung from open car windows aimed at harmless, poor people begging for change in the street. And every time I have seen these vulgar displays of contempt, I have wondered how people could commit them so calmly.

Comfort zone has a bit to do with how to index a person's character. But not as much as how a person treats those who can't help and those who can't fight back. People that treat the helpless with contempt don't do so because they're stressed. They do so because they lack character. They are bullies and they are mean people.

That a damn good index of character.

The Not-So-Simple Matter of Magical Perception

I should say that I want to be perceived as a magician rather than being perrceived as a person merely skillful.

I don’t want audience members arriving at the conclusion that I am skillful before any part of an effect is complete. If, when I am done, their perceptions include those of great and magnificent skill, I would prefer they arrive there long after the fact.

Every person on this planet has their own way of filling in the "holes" that magic creates. I believe that how individuals fill them in depends on the accumulation of their entire life's experiences being brought into focus at the very instant the magical hole presents itself.

And this is where the rubber meets the road. Tricks done that require a great deal of skill telegraph this said requirement unless the magician puts in considerable amounts of time and effort to erase all their evidences. If there are evidences of skill, then audiences tend to fill in the holes by saying to themselves, “Oh, well, this person is very skillful” right in the middle of the performance.

This is not magic.

Please fix yourself on this... 3 or 4 years worth of practice, maybe more, to erase all evidence of skill...

And for what?

Well now, that just depends. Do magicians desire to be perceived as a people skilled in the use magic, or do they just wish to be perceived as people merely skillful?

If the audience arrives at the conclusion that I'm skillful before the effect is done, there is a good chance that there is a gap (and a big gap) between perception and intent. That means that there is a gap between presentation and effect.

Franky's Story

Uncle Frank grew up with no restraints whatsoever.

His mother felt guilty for not ever being able to let him meet his real father, so she spoiled him instead. She let him do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to do it. Imagine a kid growing up with no restraints. The picture that leaps to mind is one of a wild animal.

He was brash, bold, vulgar, indulgent, and violent, and quite willing to take whatever he felt should belong to him. That's how Frankie grew up. He didn’t complete his education. He was unable to hold a job for very long. He was untrustworthy, up all night with the girls and asleep all day, and completely dependent on his mother for his welfare.

My grandfather, Frankie's step-father, had no say-so whatsoever in his upbringing. Both my grandmother and Frankie would tell him, "Well, you're not his real father, anyway." Imagine how my grandfather felt. He loved his wife, but distrusted his step-son. And they left him out in the cold. He eventually crawled under a rock when he saw his wife and her son together. He never said anything to them about anything. And he never talked to me about Frankie even when I asked him. He always just shook his head "No." And always he looked away at something that was never there.

My mom hated Frankie. She fucking hated him. For blood. She still does. Ask here where she thinks he is, and she'll tell you that she really doesn't care. She'll then add that she hopes he's dead. I quit asking her about him when I realized her hatred for him that I saw in her eyes. None of my sisters or brother ask her either. It's dead.

My mother did the best she could when she raised my brother and me. She didn't want us to be like Frankie. She didn't have any trouble with my brother. He never showed as much wild, dangerous independence as me, he was quieter, more pensive and thoughtful. I, on the other hand, had a different personality. I wanted to do more. I wanted to go out more and have more freedom. I spoke louder and with more emotion. I played harder and got dirtier than the others. As it turns out, this is exactly what Frankie did. And I believe that this scared the shit out of my mother.

So she did the only thing she knew how to do with me. She raised me exactly the way she thought Frankie should have been raised. She discouraged all types of strong and physical behavior in me. No yelling. No fighting. No dirt-bike races. No dirty shoes. No rough play. No matches. She did everything she could to make sure that I didn't grow up like him. And my father let her. And I remember fighting them both damn near every inch of the way. I hated being held down. I hated not being able to go and do things. I resented not being allowed to be who I felt I really was. Many times I felt like a caged animal, like the ones you see in a zoo. I felt like they had put me in a cage.

Finally, when I was 15, I put all these real feelings inside me so as to not cause more problems in my head and went to drugs and alcohol. I didn't want to care about it any more. I was tired of the problems of not knowing who I really was. I found out that it was easier to get high than to slug it out with the cagers. I had let them cage me.

When I moved out of my parents house, (21 years old), I exploded out of their front door. I only took my clothes and my books. Even though I had a lousy job, I left them knowing that I would never return. I didn't even speak with them for the first year. When I did finally call, I just asked to borrow their vacuum cleaner.

It was at this time I sat myself down and spent the time just finding out whom I really was. All that I'd been holding inside me was finally able to come out. With no more cages holding me in, the only thing I had to worry about were the police! (To this day, I still don't like the police...)

During this time of discovery, I thought I was different than the rest of my family and parents.
I had found out that I was a hell of a lot smarter than most people. I found out that I was an intellectual that also happened to like wrestling, fighting, sports, playing in the dirt, and just about anything else physical. I found out that I am especially fond of physical contact. It makes members of my family nervous but it relaxes me. I am more active than anybody else in my family. I like adventures and am very much a risk-taker. They aren't so much.

The difference between Frankie and me is that I am fiercely independent of my parents. Frankie never was. His mother never encouraged independence in her kids. She wanted them to be dependent on her, and Frankie took the shortcut and let her have her way. My parents had to let go of me the minute I moved out of their house. There was no other way.

The most important and influential discovery I ever made in my understanding of my Uncle Frank is this. He was mentally abused by my grandmother. She never taught him how to be a man. She held on to him, she held him down, and never let go of him. While she was independent herself, she never taught it to him. She kept him like a bird in a cage, and that messed up his head. I don't think she ever did her best with him. But that's one thing I guess I'll never know the whole truth about.

The most important and influential discovery I ever made in my understanding of my parents is this. They did their absolute best they could do with me. I realized that the minute I decided to have children. My parents did their best with me, just like I am doing my best with my own. Even though our methods might be different, we are still doing our best.

And that's a HUGE discovery! I'm not really at all that different from my own parents. We're each doing our very best. And, in an odd little way, I suppose find that thought very comforting.

Locations

Lopez de Legaspi #2420

Most of them live at the low end of the scale. They live in ramshackle, leaky houses and drive smoke-belching cars if and when they have enough money to buy gasoline. Yet they will pay $200 to $500 dollars for the latest, niftiest, shiniest cellular phone that just hit the market so they can show it off to their friends.

Ninth-grade educations are all that are required by law and it would cost you a small fortune to complete the high school levels. And college? Well, for most of them, they can just forget about college unless they gotta rich, sober daddy.

Corrupt politicians and corrupt policemen grace their lives with the sickening sense of dread and have all but killed their dreams of the 21st century. They flit from prosperity to scorn to forlorn loneliness at the mention of tomorrow. Dirty politicians won’t change laws and dirtier policemen and judges won’t arrest, charge, convict, nor imprison the corrupted because it would mean imprisoning themselves.

Two social classes exist: the haves, and the have-nots. What we’ve grown accustomed to knowing of as the "middle class" does exist, but their population is so sparse and their political power so weak that they are hardly worth mentioning, except as a side note.

Panhandlers and beggars litter the streets with their never-ending coke bottles, disposable plates, and pleas for alms. Woe unto one that wearies of their tactics, for they are strong and believe that those who have worked for their money have a responsibility to support those who refuse to. Feisty and aggressive, they wait for their chance to make those who work every day feel guilty about their success, as if they somehow should deserve it too.

Any monkey can complain, as often monkies do. Fighting for blood to find solutions takes a different calibre of character. I haven’t found that calibre here. And I'm going on four years here.

Perhaps I am looking in the wrong places.

Cuba Libre

I could probably talk forever about Cuba. My wife is Cubana, and received her USA citizenship in 2000. She escaped her country with an altered Spanish passport. She landed in Panama and found her way to the USA. We still have the Spanish passport as a "souvenier."

Have any of you been to Cuba? Walk two feet out of the tourist zones and you're in abject poverty, pal. A tough, tough, tough life for the Cubans, I assure you. I was there in '97 when it was illegal for US citizens. I arranged through a Mexican travel agency to obtain my visa. The rest is history.

The people of Cuba are some of the kindest I've ever met of all the people I've met in this world. They laugh, they play, and they DANCE. They celebrate life like today is the last day. I learned a lot. The Cubans don't throw ANYTHING away. If they can use it again, they save it because they might not be able to get another. Citizens of the US don't fully understand this concept. We throw away more stuff than anyone on this earth. We know we can get another one. Try it the other way around and you'll understand the concept of conservation.

I've sheltered many Cuban refugees since I met my wife. Mostly family and friends of family. I don't mind sharing my house, my money, my food, my clothes, and my life. My only requirement has been that they answer the three questions that I have asked them all. And this is the subject I want to talk about.

The questions follow this brief introduction: "You have escaped your country because you want to be free. I encourage such courage. You know the consequences of your actions, yet you've done what you've done. Now you are here, and you have opportunity to be and to do whomever and whatever your heart desires. I ask you these questions.

Who do you want to be?
What do you want?
What are you going to do?"

And then I help them until they can achieve these goals on their own. And every one of them are now successful land and property owners, taxpayers, and soon-to-be voters. And they are free. We, as citizens of the United States, could ask ourselves these questions...often. My money says that we don't even know ourselves.

Behind the Back Rubik's Cube

A couple of years ago, I shared PM's with some great people regarding the effects created on an audience by solving the Rubik's Cube behind your back. Since then, I have had quite a few repeated experiences that I would like to share regarding this stunt. Since those PM's, I have found that these procedures are working best for me. Your milage may vary.

Regarding the first time: I don't solve it behind my back the first time. Somebody actually said that I "switched cubes", and even though this sounds pretty ridiculous, at the time, it stole my thunder, and forced me to rethink this whole stunt. Nowadays, the first time I solve the thing, I do it right in front of the spectators. I don't hide my actions at all.

I do the intital moves getting the corners in place and both outsides while humming Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band and nodding my head from side to side like Ringo Starr did when he played the drums.

Right at the very end, I SLOW DOWN, and make my moves slowly and deliberately, glancing up at the spectators, raising one eyebrow. The cube still looks terribly messed up still and it doesn't look like much has happened. And as the last movements finish, the audience sees the cube come together and they see all the colors melt right into place.

This first experience is one of meta-cognition. They know the cube is twisted… and then… it seems… yes… I mean “no!”… No Way!... and with the final realization that the cube is solved, thier minds reel as they fully digest what the heck just happened.

This ending has proven time and time again to evoke STRONG emotional responses. The audience is seduced into silence. They look around at each other and they SMILE at each other.

If I am a show-off, (which I am), and if I like to show off (which I most certainly do…), then anything I do with the cube after this is going to have to evoke a stronger response than the first solution. Anything else will perfectly define the anti-climax. And that's just not cricket.

NOW is the time to solve it behind the back. With a wink of an eye, right in the middle of the last and final phases, I slowly move the cube behind my back (without losing my place!), and the audience sees me move it behind my back. This deliberate action evokes, not the response of "No way!", but rather the one of "NFW!"

And the second solution is now WAY better than the first one. The audience is pleased, they feel rewarded for their efforts. They feel like they got their money's worth.

And I am the hero again!

And I can live with that.

At this time I won’t disclose the follow up to these two phases. But I will say that it has a bit to do with what happens when one “gets bored” with the cube.

The Black Hole

It's kinda like being drawn into a black hole.

Once I enter, all the rules of physics that are loved and cherished will no longer apply to me.

There WOULDN'T BE ANYTHING I COULDN'T DO.

It would be... god-like.

I could make squared circles and circular squares because the rules no longer apply to me.

I could make a box big enough in which to fit the universe because the rules no longer apply to me.

I could sew buttons onto ice cream because the rules no longer apply to me.

I could make gravity optional. I could make portable holes. I could light candles to create darkness.

Be damned your silly rules, foolish mortal!

As they no longer apply TO ME.

Conjurers as Scholars

Is the study and performance of magic considered a scholarly pursuit? Has the necessary foundation to make conjuring a scholarly pursuit been built? Is it being built? Or is the study of magic just a past time... floating in the air without visible means of support?

If magic is a scholarly pursuit, then how is it properly taught and tested? By lessons in sleight of hand? By laboratories in practical psychology? Through marketing and business management classes? Drama? Theater? Writing? How about the history of magic? How about history of concept development? How on earth does one learn that? Who actually knows it? Who documents it? Where is this information stored?

Magicians comprise a secret society...a community covert. And because of that, such scholarly foundation as does exist, to properly classify it as a scholarly pursuit, must also be a secret to most. Those that work every minute of every day to make conjuring a scholarly endeavor are outnumbered by those indifferent to the effort, those who don't follow the same credo, and those who remain ignorant of the effort. Alas, there are no certified universities or colleges that offer a degree in any of the facets of conjuring, and those classes taught aren't structured to satisfy the requirements of society's scholastic certification process, much less to provide nation-wide university level accreditation.

When the scholarly inventor/developer states that the actions of publishing unauthorized material were unethical because the original method had yet to be published...does he so state because of he perceives the injustice as a tort? Probably not... there isn't enough legislative protection in place in our society to protect the work and its creator, and pursuing the injustice in this manner has often proved to be an object lesson in futility. Instead, it’s possible that the injustice is one of a disservice done to the community by the screaming absence of any scholarly approach to the improper and untimely publication of IP.

Questions left unanswered:
What is the material's history? How was the material's development influenced? Where is the developmental time-line? Where are the inventor's own personal comments, experiences, and feelings that he had while inventing and developing the concept? And most importantly, what name did he choose for the material? Scholars of all fields including magic consider these to be deeply important questions and follow the precedent of making sure to answer these questions and address these issues in-depth in their own publications.

So what in the world happened? I offer this hypothesis. There are non-scholarly publishers that are not aware of, or blatantly ignore the interests of scholarship. The premature publishers "jump the gun", and forget or ignore any kind of scholarly approach to conjuring except teaching their customers a rudimentary competence in base procedure and mechanics of material. Ethics grew legs and ran right out the door, fleeing the predatory hunger of commerce. That's what happened. And no amount of back-peddling or hurrying to publish the work playing "catch-up" will undo the actions of the non-scholars. Sadly, the damage has already been done. The bell cannot be "un-rung."

As long as there are more non-scholars than scholars in this field of study, and ethics keep being placed on the back burners, and no scholarly respect is given to magic, its inventors and their inventions...as long as magicians refuse or cannot treat their occupation respectfully and professionally... as a scholarly endeavor as well as an art and entertainment form...as long as this is happening...magic will never be taken seriously by anyone other than magicians. It will be just considered a hobby, a past time...and the paradigms of today will perpetuate well into the 21st. century.

Is a serious scholarly approach to magic worth our effort? Or is it easier to say, "All that matters is what the audience thinks." Ask yourself instead, "Do we want magic to be taken seriously?"

A big thanks to Jonathan Townsend for his valuable input on this subject. Without him it would not have been possible. Thanks Jon!

Locations

3448 Andromeda, Zapopan, Jalisco

She is upset.

I'm not talking a little, shallow upset, I'm talking a big, deep upset.

She gets tense and terse when she's upset. Her words get shorter, and her voice gets lower and quieter. She gets snippier.

She's not happy. She's burried by her job, and that must be compounded by her classes. Add to that the fact she's got three children and a husband and a really big house.

She is getting frustrated. She's gotten tense. She is getting tired.

I hope she finds time to rest. I really hope that for her.

The Joke's on You, Old Sol

Old Sol poked himself into my bedroom this morning, bringing his mandate to awaken.
My one eye openly scoffed at him, closed, and promptly returned me to sleep.
I lay dreaming of the irony.

The joke's on you, old man.
It's Sunday.

A Little Life Lesson

My ex-boss was a real pain in the ass.

Whenever I had to make some important decisions, I always checked in with him, not to get his permission, but to make sure I was keeping him "in the loop" regarding my activities. I said, "Hey, we need to do such-and-such. Whaddya say?" His answer was always, "Hey, don't ask me if you can do something smart. Just do it and tell me later. That's what I am paying you to do. So go ahead, man. I have faith in you."

So I took the hint and proceeded with my plans as per his instructions. I went ahead and did what I knew I had to do without asking. And when I would do these things, his responses were always, "Hey what do you think you are doing? You need to check with me before you do anything to make sure it's alright. Got it?"

I know this little game he played. I know it well. It is a power-play. The game is designed to keep me off balance and make me second-guess myself, to make me unsure of myself, and to help me remember exactly who is in charge and exactly who has the power. His methods were childish and condescending at best. And life is too short to tolerate that much bullshit from anybody.

So I decided to play his game a little differently. After making all the necessary arrangements regarding my own personal affairs and keeping my priorities straight, I went ahead and took the matter into my own hands. I made a couple more smart decisions and, as a result, and exactly as planned, I got called onto the carpet.

After listening to him chew me out for the umpteenth time, I calmly told him when he was done chewing, "Hey Joe, I really need to hear your expertise on a really important matter. I have a real honest question for you. And I have been meaning to ask this question for a long time. I really need to know the truth."

"Go ahead and ask," he said. He had taken the bait.

I said, "My question is this. Why don't you just go and fuck yourself?"

As most of you well know, there is a huge difference between someone asking this question merely as a result of a lost temper, and someone who sincerely wants to know. The ones who sincerely want to know are usually working another job the very next day at twice the pay.

That's what I meant regarding my own personal affairs and keeping my priorities straight.

Hot Peppers

Chile Peppers

Chile peppers are the world’s only FUNNY food. No other food on this planet except the chile pepper can be described as funny. Hamburgers? Nope. Not funny. Chicken Fried Steak? Not funny, either. Vegetable soup? Yawn. Definitely not funny.

Chili peppers, on the other hand, are very funny. Have you ever watched someone eat a really hot pepper? Man, that’s funny! There are videos all over the interweb of brave, albeit misguided, macho men eating the hottest peppers they can find. And there is one thing for sure, folks, those videos are funnnnnnnyy! Images of beet-red faces, scalded tongues, and general gastric distress can turn a boring evening into a laugh fest, complete with all the har-dee-hars and ha-ha-ha’s that all decent folk crave.

Which other foods have this innate ability to evoke peals of laughter and generous guffaws?
Which other alimentations can alleviate the doldrums of every-day life?
Which other condiments can crack a smile on even the stoniest mugs in our community?
Which other foods can cause a man to do his macho act for the nurses in the local ER?

That’s right… none save the humble chile pepper. Only the chile pepper holds this high and exalted honor. Only the chile pepper can bring us together in a group giggle. Only the chile pepper can unite us as a single unit in search of water. Only the humble chile pepper can bring all mankind together in brotherly love and end the war in Iraq. Whew!

And now… for your reading pleasure… notes on some famous peppers.

The Bell Pepper.
Does it really deserve to be called a pepper? Not really. It's big, it’s green, but it isn't even hot. Yet we call it a pepper. I guess that's because don't have anything else to call it. Or maybe we just feel sorry for it. 0 (zero, zip, zilch) Scoville Heat Units.

The Jalapeño Pepper.
World famous, and not too shabby a pepper. Most people pronounce it "hell-a-PAIN-yo", which is cool if you live north of the border, but not everybody does. Kid's stuff, once you get used to them. Further south, they make a good breakfast and are often found in baby food. Slightly hotter than yer store-bought Tabasco Sauce. 2000-8000 SHUs.

The Serrano Pepper.
South of the border, amigo. Good in salsas, sauces, tacos, burritos, just name it. Hotter than the Jalapeño, pepper noobs are advised to be a little more careful with this one. 10,000-20,000 SHUs. Good stuff.

The Chiltepin Pepper.
Big things come in small packages, like dynamite and nitro-glycerin. No bigger than your pinkie fingernail, this little bugger will set a whole pot of chili on fire. Be careful with this one, bucko. It is called the "mother of all peppers", as it is believed to be the oldest species of peppers. The Bell Pepper envies this one, as does the Jalapeno and the Serrano. 50,000-100,000 SHUs.

The Habanero Pepper.
Described as "Exceptionally Hot", it more deservingly should be called "You'll Be Sorry, Jack, Hot", or "That's Gonna Hurt...Twice... Hot." It will burn your stomach like a BBQ ember. This is the one that makes all the intraweb videos so funnnnnyyy!!! South of the border, this orange H-Bomb is treated with mucho respecto. The Chiltepin respects the Habanero. So do our southern neighbors. Look up the hybrid Red Savina Habanero while you're at it. It can earn a whopping 100,000-350,000 SHUs on a cool day, in the shade, while on ice.

The Scotch Bonnet Pepper. This hot pepper is a cultivated variation of the Habanero Pepper. In laymen's terms, it is a real troublemaker. Eating them raw has been known to cause dizziness, numbness of the hands, heartburn, and diarrhea, all at the same time!! Wowee!!! Is this the line? 150,000-350,000 SHUs.

The Dorset Naga Pepper.
This little monster hails from England (England? WTF?) and is considered by many to be one of the world’s hottest. All you have to do is touch your food with it and it will burn the taste buds right off of your tongue. You need gloves just to handle the darn thing. It can be considered dangerously funny. It is a relative of the Scotch Bonnet and you have been warned. 900,000 plus SHU’s.

The Naga Jolokia Pepper.
All genuflect to the Chuck Norris of Peppers. From India, (India?... that's more like it...) this bugger will either put you in the hospital or put you in the dirt. It is poison and it is venom. Call for help. Call 911. Call the doctor. Call the priest. Call the lawyers. Call the probate officers and notify the next of kin. And, while you’re at it, call the newspapers and write an obituary. And bring your video camera. It’s definitely gonna be a "Kodak Moment". 855,000+ SHUs, slightly less than the Dorset Naga, but get this…the highest SHU ever recorded for this little SOB is 1,041,427 SHU’s. No others have ever even come close. 'Nuff said.

Have a nice day.

Locations

Calles Nuez and San Salvador

Rather Ordinary Lives

When he was young, he just wanted to live his life like an ordinary, regular man. He didn’t plan on being famous or super-rich or doing anything extraordinary or anything like that. He just wanted to go to work, raise a family, and save money for his kids’ educations and for his wife’s and his retirement. He wanted a rather ordinary life.

Then things got complicated. Once he figured out the difference between who he wanted to be and who he really was, he found himself seeking experiences that few others would. He found myself going to unusual places, and doing things rare and meeting with people exciting and often dangerous. And, all the while this extraordinary life was happening; he worked good jobs, got married, took care of his lawn, and raised four kids.

On this behavior, he has done more than just survived… he has also thrived. He has thrilled and marveled at the wonders of this world that he has seen. He has both witnessed and participated in great adventures. He has seen more of the world than most people dream of. And he will continue to do so because it enchants him still.

So what happened to his rather ordinary life? He started out wanting one thing and wound up seeking another. He wanted peace, security, and tranquility, and wound up digging in the opposite direction. He even fell in love with another woman besides his wife. His love for her was so great and so seriously that he, at great length, considered leaving his ordinary wife and ordinary children just so he could be with her.

And he asked himself, "What the hell happened to my “sure thing?” Just what the hell happened?"

Well, perhaps his perception is wrong. Perhaps he really is living a rather ordinary life. Perhaps we all are, but would prefer to think of them as something else entirely.

Perhaps this is the case.