I have a theory. And my theory is this: Magic isn’t half so magical when the question on spectators’ lips isn’t "How’d he do that?" but rather, "How does he go to the bathroom?"
This has been the case for the last few David Blaine stunts — the block of ice in Times Square, the box over the River Thames, the standing-on-a-pole in Tompkins Square Park, the dating of Fiona Apple. Now he’s going to live in an aquarium outside Lincoln Center. Add "indefinitely" to that sentence and I’d be intrigued. I’m set to perform a stunt of my own: living in a Blaine-proof Lucite box. (Come by my apartment, tourists, and watch me living miraculously Blaine-free for days on end.)
My stunt will go on forever, but Blaine’s only doing his for a week. The grand finale: He’ll try to hold his breath for more than 8 minutes and 58 seconds, the world record. I have two questions: Did the current record-holder achieve it willingly, or is he also the "swirly" champion of the world? Also: Does Blaine (and, for that matter, Criss Angel) realize just how hilarious he is? Because these guys sure do.