Terrific magicians Penn & Teller. Teller’s the one doesn’t speak. Penn’s the one doesn’t shut up. Together 40 years, Penn Jillette’s new TV show starts the 17th.
“Sportsman Channel. I just stand there doing wraparounds in a three-piece suit at the Penn & Teller Theater in Vegas — I am not shooting in the woods — hosting funny home videos people send in. Like moose getting antlers stuck in a bush. I don’t hunt or fish.
“Teller’s in this, too. He’s from Philadelphia. A city. I’m a Massachusetts country mouse who swam in a small hole, thought every sophisticated US person called catfish ‘hornpout,’ and grew up folding fresh maple syrup, pure concentrated sugar, over snow, saltines and crap. It’s like taffy. Then eat dill pickles after. You go right into shock. Teller thought I’m Huck Finn when we met.
“We’re a pair longer than I’m married. Together 40 years, still doing the act, we’ll probably die together. We do our walks. Our office, not on the strip or tourist area, is a neighborhood Starbucks. Same corner table 20 years. They know what we order. Maybe every hour somebody wants a photo or autograph, but mostly we’re left alone.
“Now we’re working on magic’s quintessential trick of a rabbit out of an empty hat. We’ve all seen it. Nobody knows how it’s done. We’re working on that.”
Known for some F-bombs, will his TV show “Camp Stew” be raunchy?
“No. No witty things to say. No Penn & Teller vivre. Hunting is a family sport.”
Right. Everything about terrific Penn is simple and plain. He’s 6-foot-6, an atheist, played in mariachi band Bongos. His early Showtime show was “Penn & Teller: Bulls—t!” And his two children are named Zolten and Moxie CrimeFighter.
Unexpected lunchtime warnings
Wolf & Lamb kosher Midtown restaurant. Lunchtime phones ringing. Alerts.
If you’ve never heard of it, can’t believe it, in real time a “Red Alert” iPhone app signals every time a Hamas missile hits Israel. Before journalists know, the app knows. Diners who’d never heard of the app downloaded it.
Ex top cop ready to spill
Ray Kelly’s tight lips are parting. He’ll talk about 16 foiled terrorist plots, his critics, the decision not to run for mayor plus shpritzing a few public officials. Book publishers ain’t paying if he ain’t speaking. He’s speaking . . . Alsi speaking July 29 is Ali Wentworth on How To Get Control of Your Sex Life. Go know Mrs. George Stephanopoulos’ early days were so frisky.
Odds & ends
Daniel Silva at Union Square Barnes & Noble tomorrow 7 p.m. signing his new best seller “The Heist” . . . Dem Committeeman Robert Zimmerman: “Karl Rove’s political strategy sounds like he’s auditioning for TMZ. Like Dick Cheney thumping weapons of mass destruction.” . . . Bill O’Reilly’s echoed my mumble that Romney may again throw his Mitt into the ring.
What I hear
Butter, 45th between Fifth and Sixth, one of this city’s best restaurants, is where I heard: “Why’s movie-going slackening? The big film’s about a family of apes. They’re making monkeys out of us.”
Saturday. Riverside Park, 8 a.m. A wooden box is on the ground. Moving. A lady’s watching. Gingerly, she approaches. Pushes it with her toe. The box is noisy. Opening it, inside? A live cranky tied-up rooster.
Whothehell dumps a trussed-up creature in a tight, hot box on an 85-degree day?! Calling 311, the uninterested operator wasn’t into Animal Rescue. Couldn’t care less. Unsure what to do with a squawking, annoyed rooster, the lady opened the box and freed it.
No sideways glance or so much as one “Thanks, ma’m,” the rooster flapped off into the park.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.