I’ll admit to being a bit looser these days about what I’ll post to Escamoteurettes, though I probably have more unfinished drafts that may never see the light of day than posts you’ve actually seen here.

In the beginning, I made a conscious decision to stay away from much of the current events type stuff. It’s not that I’m not interested or — heaven forbid — that I don’t have an opinion. I just wanted to stick to a certain path and, from the occasional email or comment, what I’ve written has been met with some degree of interest, if not agreement or approval. That makes me happy enough.

Every once in a while, though, talking about talking does some good.

Since the beginning of web logging, lo these many, many years ago, bloggers have talked about blogging right along side whatever topic sparked their initial interest. Bloggers have also blogged about other bloggers. I’ve made use of the word community more than once; this is, in part, what I mean.

I know there are plenty of magic blog readers who are probably on the fence about joining the collective and starting up their own blog. Please, start your own blog. You do not have to have a particular reason, you do not have to defend your reason (or lack of), and you don’t have to worry about what other people think about what you write.

Just write, post it, and let the chips fall where they may.

Sometimes you’re going to write something that challenges people and they respond (this is generally in the comment section of your blog.) I’ve often found the best part of a blog is in the comments section. It’s where readers feed back their opinions of what they read, and writers clarify their point(s) or, occasionally, even change their opinion entirely.

On the other hand, if you can’t stomach dealing with people who not only disagree with your opinion but also want to discuss it with you, turn off the comment section of your blog. While not illegal, it is terribly off-putting. And sometimes readers will respond when they no longer feel the love by seeking love elsewhere.

Sometimes, though, something else will occur. Sometimes someone will read what you wrote and it will give them an inclination to write about what you just wrote. How cool is that?

Want an example? I wrote this as a direct result of reading an excellent post by Magician X. In part, he wrote:

I never thought conformity would be an issue in doing a magic blog. I should’ve realized though that there are always going to be those who are established and those who aren’t, or those with power and those without. Some choose to exercise the power they have in a way which promotes individual expression. As an example, take a look at the blog roll at Escamoteurettes and you’ll see the link to this blog. Escamoteurettes is about as different from this blog as it’s possible to be, and I would imagine that John doesn’t always agree with what I say. A while back he wrote a piece defending Gospel magic, while readers here know I have a less than favorable opinion of it. So why link to me? Maybe because he’s open minded enough to see beyond his own preferences as to what a blog can or should be. I think I read somewhere before where he stated that he leaves it to the reader to separate the wheat from the chaff in regards to the blogs he links to. He’s not trying to dictate his criteria to others. He’s saying here’s what’s out there, make of it what you will. He’s confident enough in what he’s doing to not feel threatened by those who have a different interpretation.

Amen, brother. (Ha, ha.)

But please go read the whole thing, because he does a good job of noting a very unattractive personality disorder you will, occasionally, run across: the insatiable desire to control others.

How do some people in the blogging world do this? The blogroll, mainly. Here, Magician X hits the nail squarely on the head when it comes to my own blogroll.

I do link to many sites, the authors of which sometimes post opinions with which I find myself diametrically opposed. While I don’t demand a link back, it certainly is appreciated. Even if it’s a link from a post from time to time.

(I’ll insert a note that the other day I stumbled upon a rather obvious solution to my desire to link to blogs like Magic Enigma, Magic Mafia, Pagliacci — blogs which are often not safe for work, a consideration brought to my attention on more than one occasion. Yes, I know, having a NSFW section of the blogroll seems rather obvious to me, too. Now it does, anyway. I’m getting old; give me a break.)

Back to opposing opinions. You know what? They’re opinions, not dogma. Not law. Often not fact (although they may be based on fact.)

I don’t feel threatened by opinions that are far removed from my personal universe. In fact, I happen to enjoy rubbing elbows with diverse opinions — they help me learn about other people. It’s not that I will change my mind substantially. But reading diverse opinions is not about me finding like-minded brethren, it’s about widening my understanding and appreciation for what makes other people different than me.

But that’s often at the root of what irks some of the control freaks who seem to hold the position that you either agree with them, or you agree to change your point of view, or…well, you know how it goes sometimes.

(No, I don’t really understand it either.)

Ignoring someone, especially when they’re doing their level best to have a discussion with you and present their opinion, neither minimizes the importance of their opinion, nor does it make the opinion just go away. Sometimes ignoring the opinions of others exacerbates a problem.

Sometimes it gives them the impetus to start their own blog.

First, a couple of quotes:

“People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don’t believe in circumstances. The people who get ahead in this world are the people who look for the circumstances they want. If they can’t find them … they make them.”
– George Bernard Shaw

That is pretty apparent, isn’t it … we become what we think about? It stands to reason that a person who is thinking about a concrete and worthwhile goal will reach that goal and become what is thought about.

Conversely, the person without a goal, who does not know where to go, and whose thoughts are those of confusion, anxiety, fear, and worry … also becomes what is thought about. This life becomes one of frustration, anxiety, fear, and worry.

Remember, one who thinks about nothing … becomes nothing.

That’s Earl Nightingale from his classic text, “The Strangest Secret.” Nightingale recorded that on vinyl and, in 1956, was awarded the first Gold Record ever awarded for a spoken word record. It’s message is as valuable and valid today as when Earl first wrote it.

Over the years, I’ve made reference to Earl as my “long-distance mentor.” There are a handful of people on this planet I can clearly point to who absolutely guided the course of my life, and he is one of them. It was Nightingale’s influence that directly lead to my deep interest and subsequent study of broadcasting, public speaking, and personal achievement (including books and seminars by people like Napoleon Hill, W. Clement Stone, Dale Carnegie, Zig Ziglar, Tony Robbins, and others.)

One of my earliest memories was the short, syndicated television program run each weekday morning called, “Our Changing World.” It seemed every segment began the same: Earl would appear on camera perched on the edge of an office desk, look into the camera, and in a voice I assumed was modeled after God’s own, he’d start, “I was reading just the other day…”

As a fan of reading myself, I figured he and I had at least something in common.

Over the years I’d taken in his television programs, as well as the syndicated radio programs. Then I learned he owned a company that sold audio cassette programs that taught some of the concepts he discussed so often. Over the years, I’ve sent many, many dollars to Nightingale-Conant Corporation, the company founded by Nightingale and business partner Lloyd Conant in 1960. With every purchase, I always felt I ended up on the better end of the deal.

When Earl passed away in 1989 I was privileged to write an article for my public speaking coach, Dottie Walters, who published it in her magazine for public speakers, “Sharing Ideas.” Dottie told me she gave a copy to Earl’s widow, who was pleased to have read it.

Earl’s message in “The Strangest Secret” is found in the quote above. Over the years he presented it in various renderings. The message is simple, straight-forward, and — in my experience — axiomatic: you become what you think about most.

That works not only in the grand scheme of things we call “life” but also in the short term. Our internal dialog is a powerful thing; you can use it for good or bad. The outcome depends entirely on the questions we ask it.

Bandler and Grinder discussed this often in both print and workshops. Our brain is perfectly willing to answer any question we throw at it, regardless. If it doesn’t know the answer, it’ll just make something up. (Go ahead, laugh. It’s still true.)

We become what we think about most.

It follows that if our internal dialogs — the little conversations we have with ourself when we think — focus on negative things, negative things will manifest themselves in our external life. It’s axiomatic, too, that if we focus on the positive things, positive things will manifest themselves externally.

How can negative thoughts affect our lives? Ever think about a potentially stressful event and give yourself chest pain?

Louis Binstock, who was a greatly loved rabbi of Temple Shalom in Chicago, wrote an outstanding book titled, “The Road to Successful Living.” Binstock writes:

The causes of failure lie within a wide and confusing area: the culture we live in, our definitions of the two words, success and failure, our personal psychological makeup. But often failure, and the approach of failure, take more common and obvious forms. We are not all scholars; we are not all godly; we are all not psychoanalysts: we must deal with the tworld as it presents itself to us.

There are, in terms of our everyday reactions, ten common causes of failure. These ten are basic. Know them, conquer them — even a few of them — and you will have removed the most stubborn obstacles from the path of true success.

Rabbi Binstock goes on to discuss all ten. One of them, not surprisingly, is this: the ready tendency to blame oneself, in private anyway. He states,

Why was I such a fool? What an easy mark I am! Why do I always put my foot in it? Why do I always say the wrong thing? What a dope I was!

…

This is pernicious thinking and dangerous practice. It plants deep the feelings of inferiority and insecurity which will later spring up like weeds to dominate “the well-ordered garden of the mind.” Abraham Lincoln, who failed in many things but was far from being a failure, once said, “My great concern is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure.” This contentment is paralyzing. You may see yourself as happy in failure; and you will tend to fail everywhere.

One of the most profound books in my library has to be Viktor Frankl’s, “Man’s Search for Meaning: Experiences in the Concentration Camp.” If you have never actually read this book, I am certain I cannot possibly convey to you the solemn experience that lives between its covers.

A few quotations from the book:

“Everything can be taken from a man but … the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

“What man actually needs is not a tensionless state but rather the striving and struggling for some goal worthy of him. What he needs is not the discharge of tension at any cost, but the call of a potential meaning waiting to be fulfilled by him.”

“A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the why for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any how.”

Viktor Frankl could have died, as did his beloved wife, in the Holocaust. He could have died while a prisoner in Auschwitz between 1942 and 1945. He could have succumbed to the pitiable situation he found himself in. (In each somber reading of this book I tell myself I could have, easily.) Instead, Frankl died September 2, 1997, living — living — ninety-two years. In the course of his life, he wrote numerous books and changed the course of many, many lives — including mine — through both the telling of his story, but also examining and explaining how he survived.

We become what we think about most.

I know it’s fashionable to make fun of the “power of positive thinking” movement that really found its legs in 1960’s “Success Through a Positive Mental Attitude” by W. Clement Stone and Napoleon Hill was (and remains) a classic text. I’d quickly put it next to Napoleon Hill’s, “Think and Grow Rich,” and Dale Carnegie’s, “How to Win Friends and Influnce People.”

PMA on its own is not the solution. As Tony Robbins is fond of pointing out, while you’re spending your time saying, “There are no weeds in my garden! There are no weeds in my garden!” — the weeds will take over your garden. It is the opposite cause of what Rabbi Binstock noted, but the end result is the same.

Maxwell Maltz, in his book, “Creative Living for Today,” writes:

Your self-image will sustain you in creative living if you learn to declare war on your negative feelings — and win the war in the battlefield of your mind.

Your mind is a battlefield, never doubt this, and if you win, you will experience peace of mind during your fulfilling days.

So, how do you avoid negative feelings when you have to deal with this thing called life? I’ve often said that life isn’t the stuff that happens to you; life is your reaction to the stuff that happens to you. It sounds trite, I know, but the next time someone really torques you off, instead of getting angry, just stop. Regardless what the cause, say this out loud:

(Actually, that’s reframing, but we’ll cover that some other day.)

Even if you think the above is nothing but a bunch of new-age horsefeathers, ask yourself this: what if it really works only because you believe it works? And how can that be any different from how it really works anyway? (Doesn’t that sound familiar?)

As strange as it may seem, the secret well may be that we become what we think about most.

I find ironic the fact that I’m writing a post on Escamoteurettes to answer some of the remarks you made in a post on Magic Rants today dealing with whether or not to host/field comments on blogs. Normally, in the blogosphere, these comments would be entered and hosted with the article on which I’m commenting. Wouldn’t you agree?

First, I’ll restate something I’ve mentioned a number of times: I believe each blog author should run their railroad as he sees fit. There isn’t a case or “right” or “wrong” — it just is as the author cares to have it. You have removed the ability for visitors to comment on your posts. That’s your choice, and I’m the last person to argue about it.

On the other hand, it is a point worthy of discussion. Other bloggers have discussed it. I’ve written about it. I didn’t see you complaining about it, and I don’t believe you would complain about it. I think you feel about the autonomy of authors’ decisions about the same as I do: to each his own. But sometimes people are moved to comment on something they’ve read. If it’s in a blog, it’s on the blog they’d like to comment.

But, here we are.

In response to my comment, “Conversations are very important in a community, “ you wrote:

That would be true IF one were trying to start a community. If I wanted to start a community, with discussions I would have started a new discussion board.

By community, I meant more along the lines of a brotherhood (with more “brother” than “hood.”) A band of brethren who share a common interest: magic. I didn’t necessarily mean actively creating a digital community.

But I would like to point out your web site’s masthead includes the line: “The Evolution of Magic Discussion”. With all due respect — and at the risk of seeming snarky — shouldn’t that either be deleted or at least changed to “Devolution”?

In response to my writing, “A blog without comments is simply a web site; a one-way street where the writer writes and the reader reads and, if they interact at all, it’s likely in private email.” you wrote:

A blog with comments is ALSO a website, where a very small percentage of visitors actually comment. But I think the bigger point is that this IS a one-way street. You either like what I have to say or you don’t. If you don’t, you don’t have to come back. Whereas on a discussion board, if you didn’t like what I had to say, you would probably keep running into me on various threads.

In the purest sense of the word, sure a blog is also a web site. But we call them blogs — weblogs — and it has emerged that one of the distinctions between a web site and a blog is the interaction between author and visitor, especially via the comments section. Web sites, by their nature, have writers writing, readers reading, and that’s it. Hence my reference to a one-way street.

Sure, you could repurpose my one-way-street reference to mean “like it or not, read it or not” — and that’s fine by me — but you are answering something I did not say. I’ll stand by my comment that a blog that doesn’t afford visitors the ability to interact with the author is a one-way street and I consider a traditional web site.

Even though we both know a tiny percentage of visitors ever actually leave comments — on the blog or in private email — everyone is extended the offer equally. It’s like being invited to a party. You don’t necessarily attend every party to which you get an invitation, but it sure feels good to be asked, doesn’t it? It makes you feel welcomed.

You wrote:

Regarding the change in my attitude and how I seem to have a “kinder and gentler” blog, well that’s true. I thought I would try something different since every new blogger is pissed off at everything from The Magic Cafe to other magic blogs.

I won’t argue that The Magic Cafe is singularly responsible for many of the blogs currently in the magic corner of the blogosphere; it is. Magic blogging was late to the blogging revolution. It’s still trying to find its bearings. TMC just happened to be a rallying point, a reason to be. Which, absent any other, is as handy as any other.

You wrote:

Just because most of you guys are anonymous, doesn’t mean you can’t do posts on magic that you actually do or DVDs and effects that you like. I suspect that most of you don’t actually perform and it’s just a hobby. That’s cool, but I can’t imagine that you’re in magic because you hate it so much. If that is the case, it’s time for you to get a new hobby. We all know that every magic dealer sucks, and anyone who has ever put out a DVD or releases a new effect sucks, so I would like to be enlightened, because apparently I’ve been reading the wrong books, buying the wrong effects, shopping with the wrong dealers and watching the wrong DVDs.

Some magic bloggers bitch and moan about other magic bloggers. Well, I agree it would be nice to more often see individual opinions on things other than what some magic blogger wrote, but the fact is I find that sort of train-wreck writing interesting, too. Sure, it gets tedious sometimes, but it has its place. I think there’s room for USAToday and the Washington Post and the National Enquirer.

One thing I’ve noticed in magic blogging over the last six months (especially) deserves mentioning.

Dave Winer has more years that anyone else on blogging proper. And, as Dave has transitioned from a blog I enjoyed (actually, truly loved) reading, into a blog today I don’t even care to visit any longer because of his often pissy, too-often politically-charged tone, some bloggers who launched their magic blog as a direct result of some perceived injustice they experienced at The Magic Cafe have actually morphed away from their roots and grown into something bigger. There’s hope still.

We all grow, we all change when we grow. I don’t think it’s necessarily good or bad, just different. Sometimes people don’t like change. I don’t like feeling that your blog is no more, that my comments are no longer welcomed. I don’t argue your reasons for it, but I don’t have to like it either. Obviously this is a point others have noticed. And commented on.

Your wrote:

So…yeah, there won’t be too much ranting. A little, but to be honest, I am more interested in writing about other topics other than how Steve Brooks hates bloggers. I’m starting to agree with him.

I don’t have a problem with shoot-from-the-hip ranting. Everyone’s done it. I’ve done it. I just did it and I’m ready to do it again. Venting one’s speen in a blog is no less healthy than the long and distinguished history of magic authors through the years doing it in the printed page. But even in The Jinx, Annemann printed letters to the editor unedited and gave equal time to others to dig their hole deeper. (Fact is, Annemann’s vents were what I sometimes enjoyed more than the other stuff.)

I know it’s popular to crack on Steve Brooks. I know it’s conventional wisdom that Steve hates blogs, but I don’t think that’s accurate. Steve has visited Escamoteurettes and even left complimentary comments. If he’s sensitive towards certain blogs that have been critical, or hypercritical of him personally, well..I find it hard to fault the man for feeling a bit put out by some of the bloggers out there.

Finally, isn’t it ironic that one people more critical of magic blogging joined the Dark Side and has one of the best magic blogs in the blogosphere? He’s even opened up commenting on certain posts and, I suspect, it’s only a matter of time when he lets lose, throws caution to the wind, and allows commenting all over the place.

Baby steps.

I read two things last night worth mentioning:

The first is a blog post on how to blog. Not often, but every once in a while someone emails me and asks how to get started blogging. The simple way is to go to Blogger, follow the instructions, and start typing. Beyond that, I’m really not the guy to ask because I’m not exactly the traditional blogger (every day, several times a day — blogging, I mean.)

For a more indepth answer and what is, I think, the golden path to good blogging, Tony Pierce wrote an article called, “How to blog.” You really should read this.

Despite lists of suggestions and rules and “shoulds” and “should nots,” sometimes not following the rules is the Way to Happiness. Escamoteurettes does not exactly fit into the set of suggestions Pierce lays out. That came to mind (again) when rereading Guy Kawasaki’s, “Rules for Revolutionaries.”

I am a fanboy of Kawasaki, no doubt about it. His book, “How to Drive Your Competition Crazy,” remains one of my favorites in the world of business. (I put it right next to my Harvey Mackay, Tom Peters, and Harry Beckwith books. Believe me, that’s saying a lot.)

Guy was the Apple Computer corp’s original Evangelist. When I hear the phrase, “Apple Mac” I think “Guy Kawasaki.” The reason why is found in that book, as well as “The Macintosh Way“ — another book worth reading if you find yourself in the business world.

“Rules for Revolutionaries“ reminds you that you don’t always have to follow the rules to succeed. One of the first of many great examples given is Japan’s Shinkansen.

The Shinkansen (what most call the bullet train) celebrated its 40th birthday last year. Its creation broke the rules and, in doing so, cut down to a bit over three hours what was a 62 hour trip from Osaka to Tokyo. Today, bullet trains serve one end of the island to the other.

What rules were broken? Little things like putting an engine on every car instead of one big engine pulling everything; and laying a flat, straight set of tracks rather than flowing tracks over and around existing terrain. Had the designers stuck to how things were always done, travel in 1964 would have continued to be exactly as travel had been in 1963, which is to say, slow.

If you’re in the business of entertaining, give some thought to whether or not you are doing things the way they’ve always been done. If so, ask yourself why. Then ask yourself what would be the result of throwing out the rules and making up a few of your own.

Todd Karr posted a note to the Genii Forum last night noting Teller passed along word from Sandy Marshall that The Dean of Magic, the great Jay Marshall, has passed away.

Anyone who has experienced the loss of a close family member will tell you that, even knowing the end is near, when it happens, it is never easy to take. (At least, not in my experience.)

Click the link above, scroll to the top, and read a bit. Google Jay Marshall’s name, and spend a little time remembering a titan in our little world.

George Schindler, Public Relations for the Society of American Magicians writes:

The Society of American Magicians mourns the passing of it’s Dean Jay Marshall May 10, 2005 at age 85. Jay was the most beloved comedy magician and ventriloquist of our time and appeared on the Ed Sullivan show many times with his glove puppet “lefty” and will sorely be missed. He was an S.A.M. Member for 54 years and was chosen as Dean in 1992. More information will follow.

Also, Meir Yedid’s Magic Times has a news flash you should read.

As any blogger who has been around the block a few times knows, the comments section is where the real fun occurs. It’s the question and answer session that occurs after someone puts out their opinion on something. Most blog posts are shoot-from-the-hip style writing and it’s in the comment section where things often get clarified. (For an example of this, just take a look at the comments left here at Casa Escamoteurettes this past week.)

But it’s also in the comment section where you get to meet people. As my friend Katterfelto noted in the comment section of his most recent post, it is a blog dialog. It’s a conversation — readers comment, writers reply, readers comment again. (Sometimes 28 times.)

Conversations are very important in a community.

A blog without comments is simply a web site; a one-way street where the writer writes and the reader reads and, if they interact at all, it’s likely in private email. The rest of the readers can’t participate so it’s a lot like picking up a copy of USA Today to read; when we’re done, we’re done. There’s nothing wrong with having just a web site, but allowing comments — and responding to comments — keeps open a dialog. And draws in people to participate.

(I do recognize that some blog authors simply don’t have the time to moderate the comments their lightning rod inevitably attracts. Still, stupid comments are a reflection on their respective, if disrespectable, authors — not the blog owner. Most of us need only about two seconds to separate the wheat from the chaff.)

And dialogs have a way of working out problems in a cool way. For instance, Glenn Bishop is participating in Katterfelto’s blog, and — considering the history of how things have been going in the magic blogosphere over the last six months or so — if that’s not entirely cool, I don’t know what is.

This post is about a Gospel magic themed cups and balls routine.

(I’m kidding.)

But, as I just wrote to Jim Sisti, the two recent topics that have garnered the most comments here at Casa Escamoteurettes are Gospel magic and the cups and balls.

Go figure.

Not so long ago, I wrote here that I have a love-hate relationship with the cups and balls. If I left you with the impression that love and hate set the balance even, allow me please to clarify: I hate more than love the cups and balls.

And, by that, I mean the trick itself. As for the cups, I enjoy collecting them, though I won’t live long enough to out do my friend Bill Palmer. Visit his cups and balls museum to see what I mean.

Glenn Bishop has recently written quite a bit on the trick. (I hope you’ve taken the time to read what he has to say.)

Lots of magicians have spent an awful lot of time on the trick. Dai Vernon and his friend Charlie Miller come immediately to mind. I recently mentioned Michael Ammar’s ambitious compendium, “The Complete Cups and Balls Book.” For many — I dare say most — magicians, the cups and balls is a right of entry to being a magician.

In a telephone chat with my friend Jim Sisti recently, I mentioned my wishy-washy opinion of the trick. He reminded me of a few performers, the routines of whom I have not seen. I hold out the possibility I may, indeed, enjoy a good cups and balls routine. I just need to see one first.

There have been a number of beloved versions of the cups. The cups designed by Paul Fox (and now that I’ve invoked those two words juxtaposed, I may as well say, “Hello, psycho.” You know who you are.) Danny Dew continued that design. The Charlie Miller set is a favorite of many. Then, in the late 1990s, Jim Sisti designed a beautiful set of cups I have said repeatedly I regret not purchasing. The only way for me to describe the Sherwood cups is to use an expletive in front of the word “beautiful.”

(As an aside, in doing a little research on this subject, I ran across an old review of the Morrisey cups and balls set. The review was submitted in 1998 by John Evernden, who went by the handle “Olde Rabbit” on the Magic Talk discussion board. John pased away on June 2, 2001. Amazingly enough, I found the same review — word for word — on the Ellusionist site. But there it is attributed to David Mitchell. Interesting, don’t you think?)

Back to the subject at hand: the trick itself doesn’t jazz me. And I’m not in terrible company, either.

Writing in his column in Joe Stevens’ Winter ’95/Spring ’96 magalog, Jon Racherbaumer referred to the cups and balls as “an amusing nonsense.” I read that column and had a Navin R. Johnson moment (“The new phone book’s here! The new phone book’s here!“)

It’s not a meaningful experience to watch the confusing peregrinations of little balls and bigger cups. The trick is about what happens to the balls. It’s about cups and balls, but what about the symbolic content of these things? Do they have any? Does anything relate to the spectators? Is anything relevant to their lives, dreams, and personal fantasies?”

Racherbaumer didn’t overtly answer his question, so please allow me to: No.

Jon also recounted a story that has stuck with me ever since reading it. Don Alan and his wife were watching a well known performer who was an acknowledged expert with the cups and balls, perform his routine. Don whispered to his wife, “Can you believe what he can do with those balls?” His wife whispered back, “Who gives a shit?”

Apparently, Don’s wife was not — how shall I put this? — emotionally engaged in the cups and balls routine. That had less to do with how well the routine was performed as it did why it was performed.

Racherbaumer notes this was a turning point for Don. He later turned his attention to routining Al Wheatley’s Chop Cup. The rest, as they say, is history.

What’s the point? Interestingly (ironically) enough, the only act I’ve found to actually make a point with/about the cups and balls managed to make two points at once. In their now (in)famous cups and balls routine done with clear plastic cups, Penn & Teller proved that:

1. audiences care less about how we do things than why we do them.

2. confusion is not magic, though it can be entertaining for audiences and infuriating for some magicians.

“Confusion is not magic.” — Dai Vernon

“Amen.” — Me

ADDED 5/10/2005: I’m going through two large boxes of new, unopened DVDs I’m getting ready to sell (I occasionally purchase the remaining inventory of closed magic shops, or the excess inventory of shops wishing to remain open — time to get rid of the duplicates) and found two 2-volume sets of Michael Ammar’s, “The Complete Cups and Balls” DVDs.

From the back of volume one:

The Cups and Balls is a classic of magic every magician should study. A rite of passage that distinguishes the truly serious, it puts into context so many magic principles that one might become a better magician overall, simply by mastering this effect.

I agree that studying the Cups and Balls trick can make you a better magician. In this case, I consider it sort of weight-lifting.

By the way, these 2-volume sets retail for $65.00. The first two folks to pony up $39 each can have them. Paypal, flat $5 domestic shipping; overseas Global Priority is $10.

A friend of mine is having his spleen repaired this morning. While he’s having the necessary procedure done, I think it would be a kind gesture for magicians to visit his blog and read his latest post, though it may do you more good than him: Arrgh!!!!

(While you’re there, why don’t you spend some time reading the rest of it. And add it to your bookmarks while you’re at it.)

Sure, we are enjoying an age of technological advances that make anything found in Hillard’s “Greater Magic” seem so…20th century. The Hubble Space Telescope is one piece of technology that has absolutely exceeded the expectations of most who encounter it.

Last August, NASA reported that Hubble’s eight year-old Space Telescope Imaging Spectrograph failed to respond to commands and went into suspended mode. (This “failing to respond” issue is imminently familiar to parents of eight year-olds.)

The Spectrograph was instrumental in allowing scientists to detect massive black holes. From their web page on black holes, NASA states:

Black holes are objects so dense that not even light can escape their gravity, and since nothing can travel faster than light, nothing can escape from inside a black hole.

So, in a way, think of the common perception of Jessica Simpson’s brain as a black hole, and “intelligence” as light and and you get the general idea.

Realizing the severity of this issue, I sent several notes to NASA alerting them to an alternate source of data on massive black holes — specifically magic shops, both online and the dwindling brick-and-mortar varieties.

I still haven’t heard back from them, but I do recognize they are busy.