Deal 1304: Hidden

Everyone lies. But I was the first to be caught by a hidden recorder. I think this will usher in an era where it is impossible to lie without being caught.

Faced with a recording of your very own voice to prove you false, how could you ever draw?

The gramophone was well hidden, and it clearly picked me stating my intent to lie.

Now this is causing troubles with my show. My rivals are spreading rumors, and then playing the recording they have with the not-so-subtle hint that there could be more!


Deal 1237: The Frog Prince

“I see you’ve found our Prince.”

“Where? All I see is this frog.”

“That is the Prince. Didn’t you notice his purple toes?”

“Not really.”


“I suppose it could be. But I was expecting something a little more, um, princely?”

“That regal bearing doesn’t count?”

“It’s still just a frog!”

“A frog that is a Prince!”

“A frog that doesn’t do me any good!”

“He is the Prince! That ought to be worth something to you.”

“Not a prince! Frog!”


Deal 1189: The next big con

The telephone has revolutionized the art of the big con. Once upon a time, a con man had to travel from place to place, then spend time to establish their identity and gain the confidence of some key figures in a community. All as the precursor to even beginning to think about starting a long con. It meant that a true long con really did take a long time to execute.

The telephone changed all that.

Suddenly it was possible to visit people in their homes or offices, almost without their even knowing they had invited you in.

Since a large part of the early effort is spent just to establish the trust needed to be invited in, the long con got significantly easier to play.

Of course, you still need to have a mark, a tale, and a payoff. And you probably can’t play it all solo.

But if you can master the art of sounding sincere on the phone, you can play the game without leaving your home.

You can even play more than one mark at a time, taking turns to advance each tale.

How could it ever get easier?

Then I got the letter.

“Dear most noble sir,” it began, “Greetings from the rightful heirs of the minister for imaginary trade outside of my country, who died unexpectedly in a most tragic and horrific fashion, with a sum of not less than ten million US dollars on deposit in an imaginary bank in your country. Which I know I can count on your help to return to its rightful owners. Accepting a generous fee for your services, naturally….”

I wonder what strange and wonderful technology will come next that advance the art of the con?

I can barely wait.