All ahead, full...

More work came in today while I tore into a somewhat smaller chunk of short-turnaround work that still gave me a turn early on because for the first hour or so, it seemed I had to look up every other word. In any event, I am set for the next few days.

The other night, Galina and I (and mostly I) watched Deceptive Practices: The Mysteries and Mentors of Ricky Jay, described in the Netflix blurb as being about an "illusionist," which turned out to be not the case, as Jay is, as far as I can tell, a close-up artist who has successfully adapted his act for larger venues.

Jay is three years older than I am, give or take a year, so while our ages might be similar, we are most certainly at opposite ends of the magician spectrum, in terms of many factors (assuming I would even appear). Nevertheless, a number of the people who were mentioned in the film—Al Flosso, Dai Vernon, and Tony Slidini in particular—are familiar to me.

As a rule, magicians are a rather closed-mouth lot, so I did not find it surprising that the film concentrates more on Jay's mentors than on his mysteries. What was revealed of the man—his routine flinging playing cards at watermelons, in such a way as to embed multiple cards in the red center and one card in the tough outer rind—did tickle some neurons.

Jay concluded the film with a recitation of a poem he said Shel Silverstein wrote for him. To me, there were notes of Robert W. Service in the rhymes, and the following transcription, edited somewhat, was taken from The Old Squid:

The Game In The Windowless Room

Of all the games I’ve ever played,
Of all the hands I’ve dealt,
Of all the pots I’ve ever raked,
From matchsticks, to nickels,
To untold wealth... From the beckoning
Lights of the Vegas strip,
To the Pittsburgh roadhouse gloom,
The most dangerous game
I played with the man In that
Locked-door, windowless room.

His eyes were yellow as the golden crown
On the King of Diamonds' head;
His teeth were black as the mustached Jack,
And his mouth was bloody red
As the crimson gown on the Queen of Hearts,
And his hand was marked with the sign
That’s found on the hand of the Diamond King.
And he smiled as his eyes met mine,

And he said, “What a shame,
I’ve been watching your game,
As you fleece these witless fools.
How would you do, at a hand or two–
My game... my stakes... my rules?
A sealed room, no windows or phone, and
An unbroken seal on the cards,
No watches or rings, or jaggedy things
That can clip, or chip, or mark,

On a non-metal, clear glass tabletop.
No mirrors, no overhead lights,
With foot-thick walls and just one door
That’s locked…from outside.
For as long as it takes for one man to break,
Be it an hour—or a day...
Would you dare take a seat when there’s
No way to cheat?” Well, what could I say?
So in the silent tomb of that sealed room,
We both sat down to play.

Well, he was no Joker—he was an Ace!
And although I was the King of this pack,
I knew that the Lady must smile on me,
If I were to win all his jack.
So we played for hours... or was it a week?
I lost all track of time,
And he won a few, and he bluffed a few,
But the final pot was mine.

“Well, I don’t know quite how you did it,” he said,
As I raked in his last buck.
“But shaves, or seconds, or a frigid deck—
It had nothing to do with luck!
You’re a hustler, a sharp, a mechanic,” he said,
“Now the real game’s about to start.”
Here he pulls out his knife,
And me, with just this deck of cards.

“Ain’t it funny to learn how the odds can turn,”
Said he as he thrusted, and flicked, and fanned,
But I dodged his blade, and my eight of Spades
Knocked the knife right out of his hand.
“Hell, I’ll beat you to death with my hands,”
He laughed, and he raised a powerful fist;
But my five of clubs left a bloody stub
As it sliced off his hand at the wrist.

Yeah, he screamed, and he pulled
A gun from his boot. “Last
Hand, and the dealer dies!”
But my one last card—my Ace of Hearts—
Caught him right between the eyes!

Well that, I might say, was the game of my life.
When the police did finally come,
They found a windowless room,
A corpse on the floor, the door still
Locked from outside. And no one there
But him and me... a classic locked-room mystery!
But where is the murder weapon?
They searched, but they can’t find it anywhere.
Oh where can it be? They don’t look at me,
I’m just playing... solitaire.

The transcription is largely as I recall it, but I've made some minor changes other than just reformatting the words. It's late, and I don't have the time or inclination to do much analysis of meter or anything like that. Perhaps I will watch the film again, just to refine the text, but that will have to wait.

Bottom line: I enjoyed the film!

Cheers...