The Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster

One of my favourite books of all time is Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Adams created an inclusive and hilarious sci-fi universe which contained, among other things, a drink, the effects of which were:

like having your brains smashed in by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.

It also provided the mixing instructions:

  • Take the juice from one bottle of Ol' Janx Spirit.
  • Pour into it one measure of water from the seas of Santraginus V — Oh, that Santraginean seawater! Oh, those Santraginean fish!
  • Allow three cubes of Arcturan Mega-gin to melt into the mixture (it must be properly iced or the benzene is lost).
  • Allow four litres of Fallian marsh gas to bubble through it, in memory of all those happy hikers who have died of pleasure in the Marshes of Fallia.
  • Over the back of a silver spoon float a measure of Qualactin Hypermint extract, redolent of all the heady odours of the dark Qualactin Zones, subtle, sweet and mystic.
  • Drop in the tooth of an Algolian Suntiger. Watch it dissolve, spreading the fires of the Algolian Suns deep into the heart of the drink.
  • Sprinkle Zamphuor.
  • Add an olive.
  • Drink... but... very carefully...

Which is, of course, quite impossible on earth. So someone came up with an alternative:

Responding to Magic

What is the correct way to respond when you see a piece of magic? I'm not sure I know the answer either. 

Live magic performance sits among countless other forms of arts and entertainment, each one with it's own social accepted norms when it comes to showing appreciation. When watching a classical music concert, you wait until the end of the piece. At a sporting event, you react immediately, and loudly, when something exciting happens — you don't wait until the end of the period for cheering for a goal. In the middle of Macbeth, it would be rather strange to leap to your feet and applaud because Lady Macbeth did such a phenomenal job of conveying that she was going mad with grief.

Even within the same medium it's not so clear. It's ok to chat with your neighbour over the CNN anchor, but total focus is mandatory during the Game of Thrones season finale. 

Rockstars generate tremendous reaction simply for showing, before they've even done anything (that night at least.) I've worked with many magicians who feel entitled to spontaneous adoring applause simply for walking out on stage before a crowd who has no idea who they are.

So what do when you see magic? I was struck by the question while watching reactions to a magic trick distilled through different cast members of The Big Bang Theory:

There's something in Sheldon's response we can all appreciate. Not knowings something is one thing. Nobody knows everything. Not knowing something that other people clearly know is frustrating. It makes you feel like an outsider.

But there is something else which comes up often. Apparently, it's rude to ask a magician how a trick is performed. And no one is quite sure why. I was performing a piece of magic impromptu last week for a small group. Someone asked how I did that, and another in the group chastised them quickly: "You're not supposed to ask that." And followed up with, "He won't tell you anyway."

If you asked your mechanic what he planned to do with your car and he said "you don't really need to know" or "not knowing is part of the fun" you would quickly seek a new mechanic. So why is it rude to ask a magician? I've always had a problem with this question.

Having spent most of my life in a teaching role, once as a martial arts instructor, a math tutor and now teaching children magic in hospitals, I think it's part of everyone's responsibility to society to encourage curiosity. "You don't need to know" or "you're better off not knowing" are simply bad answers.  

I think it's important to remind people from time to time that it's perfectly alright to try really, really hard to figure out how piece of magic works. Curiosity is never a bad thing. But by not immediately satiating the curiosity, we allow that feeling to linger and be savoured. You'll fuss over the mystery of a magic trick far longer than you will over how your refrigerator works. 

So try and figure it out.

Photos from Magic & Martini in Toronto

It was a very busy day last night capped off with a wonderful audience at Magic & Martini in Downtown Toronto. The show took an unusual turn when my production manager and self-described "Button Monkey" Tyler Sol Williams, interrupted the show to announce he had become an uncle. (We already knew it was a boy, so no great surprises there.)

This then put me in the awkward position of having to compete with the miracle of life. But the show must go on.

Here are some photos from the show courtesy of Uncle Tyler:

We have just announced the performance dates through the end of November and tickets are now available. Readers can use the discount code olive for a special price on tickets when booking online