What I've Learned from Fake Psychics

Fake psychics of course being a redundant term.

But I have learned something from them - Take credit for things you have nothing to do with.

That doesn't mean steal someone else's thunder. Oh, no. An example of the type of thing I'm talking about involves a scientific experiment done on a psychic back in the 1970s. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but basically, the psychic was supposed to try and influence some sort of measuring instrument that was physically graphing on paper some sort of physical phenomenon (like a seismograph might) . He was to use his mental powers to influence the spindle/writing instrument, which would then be captured on the graph paper, thus proving psychic power.

Well, like all experiments that show the existence of psychic powers, this one had bad controls. Basically, the psychic could do whatever he wanted, was given no time limit, and most importantly had not been told to do something specific - such as make the spindle jump sharply, make a curve, etc.

So if for some normal, physical reason, the spindle did something unexpected, he could claim credit, and that's exactly what he did. He was looking out the window when the spindle "went crazy." The scientists made a surprised noise, and the clever psychic asked, "Is that what you wanted me to do?" The "scientists" (who were desperate to prove such powers existed) took it as proof.

What the scientists did not know was that the instrument they were using had a flaw in that it routinely had a backup of gas accumulate in it until it had no choice but to expel it. This venting of the gas would cause the spindle to behave erratically.

Another example was one told to me by Steve Lancaster, owner of Top Hat Magic in Tulsa. He was performing walk-around magic at a party and kept forcing the same card through a variety of ways on a volunteer. Finally after he felt the humor of the situation was tapped out, he spread the cards on a table and asked the volunteer to pick one (this was an entirely free choice as Steve was moving on to another trick). The volunteer though defied the odds and picked the same card Steve had gotten done forcing on him over and over. At that point, Steve thanked everyone watching him and moved onto another table of people as there was nothing he could do to top the impression of the "real" magic that had just happened.

I now have the reputation among several people of being able to get through any door. I actually do have some skill with this. I could pick simple locks as a child, and in college I found I could card myself into locked dorm rooms faster than the RAs. I've kept this last ability and have used it - amongst other things - to open a friend's locked front door - one that her then police officer boyfriend had installed for her (much to both their surprises).

The best time I displayed this talent was when I worked part time at a video game arcade for extra Xmas money. I had just taken up magic and was always eager to show card tricks, particularly to two of my co-workers who were both from India, roommates, and here in America attending college. Two more different personalities you would be hard pressed to find - one was type double A, easily panicked and never able to sit still, always providing interesting yelps when a trick ended. The other the most laid back guy I've ever met and always over-analyzing and guessing wrongly how I did a trick.

One Saturday night, a church youth group was coming into the arcade after normal closing hours (having rented the place for themselves). The laid back co-worker and I were not assigned to work it, but Mister Type A was, so after cleaning up from the normal night's customers, we got to leave. The laid-back co-worker asked for a ride back to his house as he and the type-A shared a car.

After dropping off Mister Laid Back, I realized I had left my cell phone at the arcade and drove back to get it.

Earlier that night while cleaning up, Mister Type A had discovered that one of the bathrooms had been locked by a customer, and he was panicking over not being able to find the key to get in. I took out an old credit card, and in under 5 seconds, I had opened the door - much to his amazement. I mention that for a reason.

I arrived back at the arcade and approached the double-glass doors. The youth group hadn't arrived yet. Mister Type A was in the arcade facing away from the doors about 20 feet away. He heard me approach and moved to come open the doors (which were locked) for me. At that point, I noticed that I hadn't shut the doors properly when I left earlier. I motioned at him to stop, ran a finger down the crack where two doors met, pulled open one of them, went around the prize counter to get my cell then left, waving cheerfully at my co-worker who hadn't moved from his spot and was staring slack-jawed at me.

I giggled all the way home.

Years later, at the magic job I had at Casa Viva (a job I got based solely on a simple sponge ball routine I did for a manager), I freaked out that same manager by knocking on her office door then entering. She looked at me strangely when I came in and told me, "That door was locked!" I replied, "Eh, I'm a magician. It doesn't matter," before continuing on to talk to her about something else.

I giggled the rest of the night.

I Pissed Off a Monk Once...

I was reminded of this recently. A few years ago, I was hired to perform walk-around/close-up magic at a fund-raiser for a local Catholic prep school. It was an adults-only affair, and they really did it up. The theme was Cirque du Soleil so they had unicyclists in the parking lot, a mime greeting people at the door, a juggler, a large banquet/dance room, silent auction of some pricey wines, cigar bar, etc. etc. etc.

As part of the theme, I was dressed in a kind of sparkly unitard that came down to just below my knees with tights underneath.

At one point, I was actually doing a card trick for one of the priests, and a monk, dressed in full monk regalia - a black robe, came up in the middle to watch. I did a few tricks that all went over well with the priest - the monk wasn't really reacting that much so I thought maybe a little humor would draw him in.

So I looked at him with an appraising eye for a second then said, "Black is very chic, but (and I indicated how I was dressed) hemlines are higher this year."

Well, the priest laughed.