The Grinch of Magic

The thing about magic is that it's supposed to be a mystery. The audience is supposed to feel like they are in the presence of a wizard, warlock; magician. That's the fun. That's the reason why people choose to watch magicians perform. They want to be mystified, they want to be blown away; they want to believe that the impossible is possible.
 
Subconsciously you know what's really going on. You know that the magician is an expert. You know that they've rehearsed. You know that they've spent thousands of hours practicing one single trick. You know this, but in that moment you allow yourself to be swept away, to believe that you are in the presence of a sorcerer or a necromancer, and are witnessing their strange and beautiful finesse bestowed upon them only by some sort of all powerful god.

Do you know what really rattles my fillings? When the scoundrels out there ruin the magic. The scoundrels that shatter the pensive of mystery and bestow the truth upon the audience. These are the grinches of the magical world.

Of course these people are not actual grinches. They are not green, they do not have the urge to destroy Christmas, and they certainly do not break into peoples homes and steal the last can of Who Hash. Then again, there is no way for me to possibly be sure.

What I mean to say is that these scoundrels are just people. Now, I can understand to a certain degree why a person might reveal the secret behind a magic trick. They might be trying to subdue a crying child, they might have succumbed to peer pressure of some sort, or they might have just absentmindedly let it slip. These things are forgivable because you can understand the reasoning behind it. Nobody is perfect, and that is something that we can understand. What really creams my corn is when people reveal the magic trick because they are simply trying to spoil it for the audience. They are splintering the magic, the mystery, and above all else, the fun. What is magic without fun? A soggy pile of roast beast.