Because someone has to make Grandma blush
There are many styles of magic.
There’s the elegant illusionist in a tuxedo.
There’s the mysterious street performer.
And then there’s me — the vulgar magician.
Not because I want to be.
But because after years of performing for kids, adults, and animals (long story), I realized something crucial:
Being polite doesn’t get laughs — but dropping a well-timed F-bomb absolutely does.
Exhibit A: Polite Magicians Get Ignored
You ever see one of those clean-cut magicians in a bow tie? The ones who say things like, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, observe closely as I make this card disappear…”
No one’s observing closely. Half the audience is scrolling Instagram.
Meanwhile, I walk on stage, toss a deck of cards in the air, and say,
“Alright, who wants to see something slightly inappropriate and probably disappointing?”
Boom. Everyone’s paying attention.
Being vulgar isn’t about being offensive — it’s about being honest.
And nothing grabs attention faster than honesty wrapped in mild profanity.
Exhibit B: Magic Tricks Are Already Ridiculous
Let’s be real — magic is inherently absurd.
You’re standing there trying to look mysterious while hiding a foam rabbit in your hand. Doves are pooping in your jacket. Someone’s aunt is yelling, “It’s in his pocket!”
It’s chaos.
So why pretend it’s high art? I’m not summoning spirits — I’m trying to keep a straight face while a coin rolls down my sleeve.
If Shakespeare had to do that, he’d curse too.
Exhibit C: Adults Need Permission to Laugh
Here’s the secret: adults want to laugh, but they need permission.
They’ve spent all week pretending to be responsible, serious people.
Bills, jobs, traffic — it’s exhausting.
Then I show up and say something like,
“Don’t worry, folks, I’m a professional. I only screw up when people are watching.”
And suddenly, everyone’s relaxed.
They’re not watching a “magic show” anymore — they’re watching a fellow human barely holding it together in the most entertaining way possible.
That’s the magic.
Exhibit D: It’s Cathartic (for Everyone)
Being a slightly vulgar magician is therapeutic.
For me, it’s cheaper than therapy.
For the audience, it’s freedom.
I get to vent about the guy who grabbed my props.
They get to laugh about their boss.
Someone spills a drink. I make a joke. We all feel human again.
It’s not about shock value — it’s about connection.
And sometimes, the fastest way to connect is with a joke that toes the line and winks while doing it.
Exhibit E: The Kids Will Survive
Occasionally someone says, “Aren’t you worried about offending people?”
No.
Because if your kid hears me say something mildly spicy during a magic trick, that’s not corrupting their innocence — that’s giving them an early education in timing and delivery.
They’ll be fine.
They’ve heard worse on YouTube before breakfast.
The Truth
Magic doesn’t have to be shiny and polite to be good.
It can be loud, messy, honest, and full of laughter that feels real.
A little vulgarity is just the seasoning — the salt that keeps the show from tasting bland.
So yeah, I’m Alexander the OK — magician, occasional swearer, and full-time reminder that wonder and laughter go hand in hand… and sometimes that hand has a dirty joke up its sleeve.
✨ Alexander the OK — Making magic slightly too adult since forever. ✨
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