Paradise Found

I was awake in the wee hours last night and found myself flipping through the queued programs on my DVR.  "Oprah's Next Chapter" held an episode featuring David Copperfield.  This is something I'd normally never watch.  I have an aversion for "magicians".  And I put that word in quotes because pulling, say, a rabbit out of one's ass is not actually "magic" but, rather, a trick.  At best the word is "illusion".


The thing is, I do believe in magic.  Real magic. Magic as in love, giant snowflakes, inspiration, synchronicity and whiskers on kittens. And, of course, as I said on Crackbook the other day, Folgers in your cup. None of the magic I believe in, however, includes an overly bronzed bug-eyed wildly dramatic cocksman from Jersey.  

Regardless, there I was at wee-thirty in the morning with nothing better to do.  While it was at least mildly interesting to learn of Copperfield's triumph over the adversity of a difficult childhood (his mother beat him); meet his thirtysomething fiance (he's fifty-five, and previously married to Claudia Schiffer); the big takeaway is David's digs.  

Y'all?  Bronzy Copperfield doesn't just own an island in paradise.  No. He owns a string of islands in paradise. 

Eleven to be exact. 

And when Magie McMagicson decides to take a break from performing six hundred (?!) shows per year in his personalized theater at the MGM Grand in Vegas and needs a place to throw off his mighty codpiece and sit a spell, he heads south to "Copperfield Bay" in (guess where?) the Bahamas.

I guess the fact that I was just there (generally speaking) only fueled my awe at the thought and images of this heavenly place.  I mean, I know that it really, really is THAT beautiful. Even better? David would like to share paradise with you.  That's right. You, too, can experience the magic of Copperfield Bay.  All you need is a passport, a change of underpanties, and $37,500 per night.   

Get a preview right here.

(But forget about the bed on the beach.  That spot's mine.)