Disgusting Romance, Great Magic, Smut, and a BoatInside MagicMagic News Updated Daily for the Professional Magician

Magic, Pure Magic

Magician Rakesh Syam works as a Carnival performer in
that he is a performer aboard Carnival Liberty.

The 29-year-old magician hales from Madurai, India and works not on the stage in the Cabaret Lounge or
the theater but from table-top to table-top.

We weren't aware of many table-hopping magicians
working cruise lines and so the story in today's Orlando Sentinel was
interesting-and-a-half.

The Sentinel's reviewer is charmed by Mr. Syam.
Actually, charmed may be an understatement. She is darn right smitten.
"Get a room!" we shouted as we read her account of the magical
encounter on the high seas. "Why don't you marry him and kiss him
all day if you love him so much!"

Our shouts had no effect on the article — presumably
because it was already written — but enticed the young woman trying to
carefully mix the Cola and Mountain Dew Code Red Slurpee mixture.

"Do you think I should?" she asked with the
frozen drink now flowing freely over her small, shivering hands — free of any
rings or signs of engagement.

We returned to reading the out-of-town
newspaper. The 7-11 manager seemed preturbed that we were reading his
precious newspaper without paying but it was his fault the newspapers were set
so closely to the counter area. We didn't set up the store. He
did.

Back to the Love Boat article.

We have to caution you, it gets really weird and kinky
at this point.

"Pick a card," he says.
"Any card."

Oh, so it's going to be one of those tricks, I say to
myself as I withdraw the two of diamonds from the deck. Syam turns his back and
asks me to write my husband's name on the card with a thick black felt pen,
replace it in the deck, and shuffle it.

Syam reshuffles the deck one last time, then tries to
guess which card I picked.

Was it the nine of spades, he asks, turning the card
over? Nope. The four of hearts, perhaps? No. The jack of clubs? No. This is
embarrassing. Even Syam seems somewhat perturbed.

"I don't know what's going on," he mutters,
pulling something from his pocket. It's a playing card, folded in quarters and
held together by a paperclip. He drops it on the table.

Yup, it's the two of diamonds with my husband's name
scrawled across it in bold black letters.

"How did you do that?" I say, gasping.

He just smiles.

Across the table, my husband chimes in: "Can you
make her 20 years younger?"

"I'm good," Syam says, "but not that
good."

Practice makes awesome.

Okay, is it us? Does that gross you out?
She's flirting with the magician — the "awesome" magician who made
her gasp.

In the midst of their unspoken tryst, her dog of a hubby
demonstrates to her young hero why he is unworthy of her love:

"See," she says to the
readers, "my husband didn't gasp, he didn't feel the…

Magic, Pure Magic

Magician Rakesh Syam works as a Carnival performer in
that he is a performer aboard Carnival Liberty.

The 29-year-old magician hales from Madurai, India and works not on the stage in the Cabaret Lounge or
the theater but from table-top to table-top.

We weren't aware of many table-hopping magicians
working cruise lines and so the story in today's Orlando Sentinel was
interesting-and-a-half.

Our shouts had no effect on the article — presumably
because it was already written — but enticed the young woman trying to
carefully mix the Cola and Mountain Dew Code Red Slurpee mixture.

"Do you think I should?" she asked with the
frozen drink now flowing freely over her small, shivering hands — free of any
rings or signs of engagement.

Back to the Love Boat article.

We have to caution you, it gets really weird and kinky
at this point.

"Pick a card," he says.
"Any card."

Oh, so it's going to be one of those tricks, I say to
myself as I withdraw the two of diamonds from the deck. Syam turns his back and
asks me to write my husband's name on the card with a thick black felt pen,
replace it in the deck, and shuffle it.

Syam reshuffles the deck one last time, then tries to
guess which card I picked.

Was it the nine of spades, he asks, turning the card
over? Nope. The four of hearts, perhaps? No. The jack of clubs? No. This is
embarrassing. Even Syam seems somewhat perturbed.

"I don't know what's going on," he mutters,
pulling something from his pocket. It's a playing card, folded in quarters and
held together by a paperclip. He drops it on the table.

Yup, it's the two of diamonds with my husband's name
scrawled across it in bold black letters.

"How did you do that?" I say, gasping.

He just smiles.

Across the table, my husband chimes in: "Can you
make her 20 years younger?"

"I'm good," Syam says, "but not that
good."

Practice makes awesome.

Okay, is it us? Does that gross you out?
She's flirting with the magician — the "awesome" magician who made
her gasp.

In the midst of their unspoken tryst, her dog of a hubby
demonstrates to her young hero why he is unworthy of her love:

"See," she says to the
readers, "my husband didn't gasp, he didn't feel the mystery, the awe that
I felt.

"I ruined the card by writing his name on the back and hoped my
young, true beau would cause it to vanish forever. He couldn't do that,
he is far too honest, too good, too pure.

"Rather, he brings my husband's name and, by
symbol, him to the top of the deck, the middle of the conversation our eyes
were holding.

"He seemed to say he knew how to handle my husband,
symbolically. He could do with him as he needed so that our magic would
thrive."

You read it the same way, right? This is like
subtle porno. We were offended, but we continued to read.

The reporter describes her young magi as one who
possesses "charm, exuberance, engaging patter and deft hands" capable
of bringing any of the customers "to the edge of their dinner seats. He
wows cruisers at each of the ship's 650 dining tables."

His secret? Get ready to hurl at the blatant lust
evident in her quotation of the young magician.

"I tell lies with my hands," he says.

"To get my hand movements perfectly correct, I
sit in front of the mirror for hours practicing."

Please!

Why doesn't he just tell her, "I am
alone, very alone, in my cabin. Just me and my reflection practicing my
magical movement with my lying hands. Do not trust my hands, my lovely.
They lie but my eyes . . . they do not."

The unmarried and apparently un-engaged woman with the
red-stained hands came over to see what we were reading.

"Is it like the horoscope?" she asked.

She plopped down one of her sticky,
red-food-dye-number-two, no-ring-wearing,
shaking-from-the-cold-and-caffeine-deprivation hands.

"You'll have to buy that now," the manager
said pointing to the big red palm print on the out-of-town paper.

I nodded knowingly. She would have to put it on
her tab. People are amazing. No respect for the property of others.

"No, it's not the horoscope," I said.
"It's an article about some woman who gets mixed up with a magician on a
boat."

"Oh, 'cuz you said 'Get a Room!' and 'Marry Him'
and 'Kiss Him.' I thought you were reading my horoscope or
something."

I shook my head and brushed the now very liquid palm
print from the article.

"I don't even know your birthday. How
would I know your horoscope?"

"I thought the horoscope knew," she said. "It's set up
according to when you were born."

I thought about this for a second and started to
respond but let the moment pass.

Speaking of passes . . .

Just as if the reporter was bringing her prize home
for our approval, she describes Mr. Syan's path to his current position as ship
magician.

Street magicians and snake
charmers in India were his inspiration, he says.

"My God, what a power, I thought," he
recalls saying to himself when he was 7 years old. The charmer's balletic style
and ability to keep the public spellbound enthralled him.

Now he's thrilled to conjure that same awe for cruise
passengers.

Okay, sure. It is not
even subtle now, we thought.

"The charmer's balletic style and
ability"? We don't know what "balletic" means but it sounds
dirty and that's good enough for us.

Fortunately, this was the end of the article. We don't mean to take
anything away from Mr. Syan.

It is not his fault women fall for his
"balletic style and ability" combined with his lonely "lying
hands." We say, more power to him. Good for him.

We were just kind of disgusted we had to read such trashy smut in the disguise
of a cruise review.

"A Virgo," the Slurpeed-handed girl said without looking up from the
story. "I'm a Virgo."

I nodded.

"That's an incredibly romantic story," she said.

I nodded at first but I couldn't lie. "It's a great story about the
magician but the obvious infidelity repulses."

"It's romantic," she said as her syrup-covered palm slid across the
newsprint to hold ours. "Don't you like romance? Do you believe a hand
can lie?"

If she wasn't our cousin, we would have slugged her for talking that way.

Her aunt, our mom, would have
slugged us even harder, though.