The more I think about yesterday's David Copperfield story...
the more freaking impressed I am. What a story. Picture it. There you are, heading back to the tour bus with your two lovely assistants between shows (for reasons that were never properly explained in the news stories), when you're beset upon by four thugs brandishing firearms and threatening gunplay. The two ladies hand over their valuables, but not you. You stare down the barrel of certain death, palm your own belongings, and reveal empty pockets to the would-be thieves. I don't care if you are a world-class magician who wouldn't screw up that trick in a million years. It takes cojones the size of that boulder that chased Indiana Jones to pull that off with a gun in your face.
Indiana Jones flees before David Copperfield's balls
I mean, think about it -- one screw up, one palm that's a little too sweaty from nervousness at facing a handgun and a crazed kid with his finger on the trigger, and that cell phone slips out of your grasp, onto the ground, and you try to mumble something like "OK, OK. Maybe I did have something in my pockets." But you'd only get out "OK, O--" before having your head split open, washing your assistants in blood and brains. Wow, man.
Dear David:
I used to make fun of you, and not just out of jealousy because you were hooking up with a supermodel. No, I honestly thought you were a tool. But I take back everything I ever said. John Wayne would be proud to do a shot with you, and so would I. You're a freaking badass.
David Copperfield, alleged badass