Dad Magic

Last Friday I suggested you watch this video as homework for this week.

It’s a collection of Dad Jokes.

That sort of thing.

I came to something of a realization last year. I shared it with a couple of people and they found it to be kind of sad. But I think it’s a way of thinking about things that explains a lot and can better help you reach your goals in magic.

I was thinking about the concept of Dad Jokes. And I was thinking, “What would be the equivalent sort of thing in magic be? What are Dad Tricks?”

And I don’t mean tricks that are funny or have a lame joke as part of the presentation.

I was trying to complete this analogy:

Dad Jokes are to Humor as ________ is to Magic.

What fills that blank?

My first thought was maybe something like packet tricks. Those have a sort of “dad magic” feel to me. Or maybe, like… an Okito box routine? Rubber band magic?

The more I thought of what might be Dad Magic (and what certainly wasn’t Dad Magic) the more I came to a realization…

In general, what we think of as “Magic,” IS dad magic.

Packet tricks are dad magic. Coin tricks are. The cups and balls. All four-ace tricks. The linking rings. Every trick Harry Lorayne ever did. A matrix done with dice instead of coins. Bill in Lemon. Those little pre-printed cards you keep in your wallet that you use to read someone’s mind.

It’s all dad magic.

What I mean is, I was looking for this subset of tricks that lined up “spiritually” with dad jokes. But most magic tricks are already the equivalent of a dad joke.

Dad Jokes are unoriginal, impersonal, pre-scripted, disconnected moments of humor.

They may make you laugh, but the humor of a dad joke never really moves you or gives you a sense of connection with the person who told it.

You may laugh at a bunch of dad jokes and find them genuinely funny, but a week later you’ll probably forget most of them.

If someone knows a bunch of good dad jokes, you don’t think: “This guy is so funny.” You just think they’re someone who memorized a bunch of jokes. You could do that too, if you were so inclined.

Similarly…

Most tricks are unoriginal, impersonal, pre-scripted, disconnected moments of magic.

They may fool you, but the “magic” of most tricks rarely moves you or gives you a sense of connection with the person who performed it.

You may enjoy a bunch of tricks and genuinely have no idea how they’re done, but a week later you’ll probably forget the details.

If someone knows a bunch of good tricks, you don’t think: “This guy is so amazing.” You just think they’re someone who learned a bunch of tricks. You could do that too, if you were so inclined.

This idea that “all tricks are dad magic” has explained some things for me.

First, maybe the reason magic has, so often, been perceived as a “lesser” art form is because—as it’s typically performed—it is a lesser art form. Truly funny people are adored in our society. Stand-up comedians are idolized by many. But if people “performed” comedy by standing on stage and reading random, generic jokes written by other people, then comedy would probably be similarly marginalized in the world of entertainment.

Second, it sort of explains why we can have such different expectations regarding the sorts of tricks we will perform.

I remember last year, when EDCeipt came out, there were some complaints about the quality of the gimmicked receipts. With some people saying they didn’t look or feel like real receipts. The stores didn’t make sense and the prices were bizarre. And the response to these complaints were, “Nobody cares.” “Nobody ever notices.” “No one questions the receipts.”

And I remember thinking, “How could that be?” How could no one take even the slightest level of interest in these items that are being used TO READ THEIR MIND! How can they be so nonchalant about it? And I assumed anyone saying the audience didn’t care was lying about that, or deluding themselves.

But now I think they’re probably being accurate to their experience and the expectations they bring to their performances. If you’re performing magic in a traditional style—in a Dad Magic style—then of course people won’t care as much if the receipts are real or not. And of course they’ll be less likely to ask to examine the deck after you make it change color. For the same reasons, they wouldn’t question you about the veracity of the set-up to a Dad Joke. They’re there to be fooled and entertained. Not to fact-check everything.

Whereas, in a more immersive style of performance, something that feels out of place or wrong in any way is going to undermine the whole experience. And there you do have to be more concerned about things like verisimilitude and examinability.

Third, it sort of explains why even a strong trick that fools people badly can often have such a seemingly short impact on people. If you saw something truly impossible, that seems like something that should mess with your mind for at least 15 minutes, if not days, or a lifetime.

But I had so many times over the years when I would perform something that would totally kill someone, yet they would put it out of their mind relatively quickly. And I realized it’s because it came in the form of a Dad Trick. Some isolated moment of impossibility, disconnected to anything real or meaningful to the other person.

It was only when I started employing some of the techniques I’ve written about on this site that I started getting the longer-lasting reactions regularly.

And by those techniques, I mean any of the ideas I’ve implemented that are designed to make a trick NOT feel like a perfect, neatly constructed Dad Joke of a moment. But instead something that feels messier, more spontaneous, less understood, and more unpredictable.

This undoubtedly feels like a value judgment. Like I’m saying, “Ah… YOU with your meaningless ‘dad-magic’ are performing such trivial effects. Whereas, I am committed to performing life-changing miracles!” But that’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I perform a lot of stuff that falls squarely into the straight, Dad-Magic, traditional style of a trick. There’s just too much fun stuff to perform that could be described in that way. And a lot of it is very fooling. I’m not saying Dad Magic is bad magic. I’m just saying that most magic IS Dad Magic.

This is sort of the anti-Paul Harris theory, that magic effects are inherently important and powerful and “bring us back to a child’s state of mind.” The more you buy into that, the less-satisfied you’re likely to be with the impact of your magic. Whereas, if we recognize the inherent weakness—the inherent dad-magic-ness—of tricks as they’re traditionally performed, that will allow us to be content showing people these pleasant diversions. Or it will inspire us to find ways of creating more genuinely impressive, and long-lasting moments of mystery using our tools of deception.