The effect you describe was recorded in Mark Singer's 1993 profile of Ricky Jay in "The New Yorker". Here it is, extracted from the entire article: "I'm always saying there's no correlation between gambling and magic," Jay said as he shuffle-cut the cards. "But this is a routine of actual gamblers' tech- niques within the context of a theatrical magic presentation." He noticed me watching him shuffling, and asked softly, with deadpan sin- cerity, "Does that look fair?" When I said it looked fair, he dealt two hands of five-card draw and told me to lay down my cards. Two pair. Then he laid down his. A straight. "Was that fair?" he said. "I don't think so. Let's discuss the reason why that wasn't fair. Even though I shuffled openly and honestly, I didn't let you cut the cards. So let's do it again, and this time I'll let you cut the cards." He shuffled again, I cut the cards, he dealt, and this time I had three tens. "Ready to turn them over?" My three-of-a-kind compared unfavorably with his diamond flush. "Is that fair?" he said again. "I don't think so. Let's talk about why that might not be fair. Even though I shuffled the cards"-he was now reshuffling the deck-"and you cut the cards, you saw me pick up the cards after you cut them, and maybe you think there was some way for me to nullify the cut by sleight of hand. So this time I'll shuffle the cards and you shuffle the cards." Jay shuffled the deck, I riffle-shuffled the deck and handed it back to him, and he said, "And I'll deal six hands of poker-one for myself and five for you. I'll let you choose any one of the five. And I'll beat you." He dealt six hands. Instead of revealing only one of my five hands, I turned them all face up. "Oh, oh," he said. "I see you want to turn them all over. I only intended for you to pick one-but, well, no, that's all right." The best of my five hands was two pair. Jay said, "Now, did that seem fair?" I said yes. Jay said, "I don't think so," and showed me his cards-four kings. I rested my elbows on the table and massaged my forehead. "Now, why might that be unfair?" he continued. "I'll tell you why. Because, even though you shuffled, I dealt the cards. That time, I also shuffled the cards. Now, this time you shuffle the cards and you deal the cards. And you pick the number of players. And you designate any hand for me and any hand for you." After shuffling, I dealt four hands, arranged as the points of a square. I chose a hand for myself and selected one for him. My cards added up to nothing- king-high nothing. "Is that fair?" Jay said, picking up his cards, waiting a beat, and returning them to the table, one by one-the coup de gr?ce. "I. Don't. Think. So." One, two, three, four aces.

@@luckyman1071 It was an amazing display, and, mind you, he was sick with asthma and some other bronchial condition. RIP indeed. A genius.

@@surfingonmars8979 Amen, a genius, verily. I, too, was fortunate to be the onstage witness to a performance of this routine. Shortly after his death I wrote up my personal experience with him in a FB post: Ricky on my mind, and not just the auction. In 2002 I was an audience assistant for “Ricky Jay: On The Stem”. As I sat next to his card table I shifted my seat slightly for a better view of any unseen “work” that might go on. For this I received-deservedly-a brief, but hard glare from the artist, but the performance continued. Jay launched into his "Was That Fair?" poker demonstration. (Mark Singer described this multi-stage performance piece in his 4/5/93 New Yorker article: "Secrets Of the Magus.") At one point Jay pushed the pasteboards my way and requested that I shuffle. After a couple of riffle shuffles-nothing excessive-he leaned toward me and snapped his fingers in front of my face stating broadly and facetiously, “Come on, this is DEAD TIME”. The audience chuckled; I just ignored him and carried on. Now there is a way to riffle shuffle a tabled pack with a light touch that looks very tidy. This I did and, keeping the deck on the table, I pushed the cards into register using only my thumbs and second fingers and then towards Ricky. Silence. He pronounced: “Well, you HAVE played cards before…”. Here followed laughter from the audience that subsided into an awkward silence. I could only stare down at my hands for a moment and then return-impassively-his gaze. More silence, you know, the loud kind. What to do? Nothing but turn to the audience with a crooked grin and give my shoulders a slight shrug. They liked that.> ------ One of his teachers was a Canadian/American, Dai Vernon. Vernon once said that, "genius is the ability to take infinite pains." This seems to chime well with Mr. Jay's work. Be well.