Partly Cloudy, 64°
Yes, my name is Puvo The Magnificent, but before you jump to any conclusions, I want to make something very, very clear. I am not a magician.
Write that down if you must.
Puvo The Magnificent is my given name. Check my birth certificate if you don’t believe me! When I introduce myself to a new person I tell them my full name. If a friend calls me Puvo, I correct him. I will only answer to Puvo The Magnificent, and that’s that.
I know you must be thinking, “Puvo The Magnificent, if people assuming you’re a magician upsets you so much, why don’t you just go by Puvo and avoid the misunderstanding?”
How’s this for an answer: I love my parents too much to change the name they gave me. Plus, I’m proud of my name—my FULL name. Call me Puvo The Magnificent or don’t call me anything.
And don’t even THINK about calling me a magician.
Yes, I wear a purple three-piece suit and a satin cape. A black top hat when I go for my morning walk. Just because I’m dressed like a magician doesn’t mean I am a magician! I can’t walk farther than a block without a complete stranger begging me to perform a trick, or even worse, handing me money to perform at an idiotic party.
You might ask, “Well, Puvo The Magnificent, why don’t you just stop dressing in traditional magician’s garb if it makes you want to scream when people treat you like a magician?”
How’s this for a sound bite: I love my signature style too much to throw it all away. Three-piece suits and capes are the only clothes I own. I’m sorry if that bothers you—oh wait—I’m NOT.
Does that settle things?
It’s true that I have a thick mustache and carry a wand. A puff of smoke appears around me when I enter a room. That doesn’t mean I’m a magician, and that sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m willing to amuse you with a trick!
The truth is, I hate magic. It disgusts me. It’s dirty. I am a clean man.
Yes, I have two assistants standing behind me at all times. You’re right, they’re always sawing that man in half then putting him back together in the big black box.
You might annoyingly prod, “Puvo The Magnificent, they’re with you? Yes, of course they are."
Let me be frank: those women are very nice, but I am unaffiliated with them. I clap for their tricks because they get angry and threaten to hurt me if I don’t.
Oh, the white rabbit in my hat? I have no explanation for him.
