Aside from the obvious smoke-and-mirrors connection, magic and politics share one additional, unassailably strong tie: like politicians, the general public just assumes we are lying to them. (Yes, I know, not all politicians are liars. Dead politicians don’t lie, and the live ones who tell the truth we call “single-term politicians.”)

Truth be told, for the most part, we do lie to our audiences. Sure, there are some performers who don’t lie as much. But you have to admit, the sky’s the limit when you have been given implicit carte blanche to tell tall tales in the name of entertainment.

Is it completely necessary to lie when engaging in mystery entertainment? No. It reminds me of the words of Bob Lewis, “He’d tell a lie when the truth would fit better.” But I guess that depends upon what your definition of “fit” is. The issue usually is we aren’t all blessed with a rich (genuine) history to use as a coat and tie for our routining. Not all of us have a crazy aunt, or a haunted house. (A haunted car maybe, but not a house.)

I’ve used this quote before. It’s from my departed friend Mike Rogers from his lecture notes, “Opinions: A Lecture on the Art of Magic”:

“It’s all right to lie when doing magic. We are in the only business in the world where lying is accepted. Everything is a lie. We don’t do real magic; we lie about it. When we tell the lie well out magic will look real.”

In the world of magic and mentalism, a lie during a performance is a locofoco; sure there are other ways to light up, but this is as creative as any other.

I once quoted Harlan Tarbell along these same lines:

As entertainers we use the illusionary side of magic to entertain audiences — but we do so with the right spirit. Down the ages the man with a sense of humor has made entertainment from both truth and illusion, from comedy and from tragedy.

But our background has been fine — and that is why I wanted to stress at this time the importance of the Magi as well as a rough sketch of their teachings.

Audiences automatically look at the magician as being possessed of some unusual power and being on just a plane ahead. To lower an audience’s opinion of us is to court disaster.

There is an art to lying in performance and making it work. The delivery makes the difference. Some performers make a big lie a successful foundation of an act. For instance, Jeff Hobson is a funny guy. On the other hand, smarmy often doesn’t work. (I’d provide an example of the latter, but I don’t have time to sift through the thousands readily available. Just be on the look out for a routine that starts with the phrases, “when I was a kid” and “my grandfather.” That should get the alarm bells ringing.)

The point of lying during a performance — aside from it being fun and all — is that it allows you to create any necessary context at the drop of a hat. (As you may know, I am a big fan of context. Take a trip down memory lane, if you will.) Context, like good quality latex paint, covereth a multitude of sins. But just as in real life, don’t abuse the power; inelegant use never works and turns the fun into a sisyphean effort that kills the joy.

Now, don’t take this as my saying one should make a left at the corner and proceed to MSU at every turn just because we can. Far from it. What I do mean is I don’t see much point in constraining and unnecessarily constricting an artistic performance. (This, as opposed to being scum-sucking bottom dwellers like James Van Praagh/George Anderson or John Edward.) I’ve known plenty of performers who shudder at the very idea of using gaffes or even stretching the truth just a little within the context of a performance. If that’s your way of looking at things, God bless you — I have no problem with it. I just disagree that it’s necessary. But then I think putting sugar into a cup of coffee is unnecessary.

When we stand (or sit) before an audience who has the expectation of being fooled, we owe it to them to do all we can — however we can — to fool them and make them happy for it. So, throw off your Geneva bands. Smile when you lie. Or at least look your audience in the eye when you lie to them. Use gaffes when convenient. Make up family members if necessary. Just leave the guilt at either end of the stage — it’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.