All the better to lead the audience happily back to the slots and the gambling tables.

Yet a native Philadelphian with a muted style and his very un-muted partner cleverly challenge Las Vegas audiences nightly to ponder the essence of America. In the process, they've become one of the longest-running acts in Sin City.

Penn Jillette, the tall, chatty one, and Teller - the short, silent one who grew up in Center City and graduated from Central High School, and whose passport bears a single name - have been comedian-magicians-in-residency in their own theater at the Rio All Suite Hotel & Casino since 2002. And while they have endured in a brutally fickle town, the two have made their beliefs about constitutional freedoms - they are firm libertarians - a staple of their show.

"When we first started out, we were told that you have to figure out what you want to be in conjunction with who is your audience," said Teller, breaking from his wordless on-stage persona. "And we said, 'You know what? We'll be Penn & Teller and if people like that, they'll come because we'll be the only ones doing Penn & Teller.' "

One bit that Penn & Teller routinely perform lampoons airport screening procedures - a violation of Fourth Amendment protections against unreasonable search and seizure, the two contend.

Using their own airport doorway-type metal detector and an audience member, Penn shows how the most slender piece of metal (inscribed with the Bill of Rights, by the way) will set off alarms. Then, the unassuming Teller passes through the detector and nonchalantly produces a dish - which is ablaze. And a fire extinguisher. And a shovel.

The audience - most of whom have recently endured an airport screening - rocks with laughter. But the intended message is serious.

"It's a bad thing for the country," Teller said. "What was it that Ben Franklin said?" he added, paraphrasing another Philadelphian, "That those who give up liberty for a little safety deserve neither."

Penn & Teller also offer a nod to the First Amendment. They roll up a copy of the Bill of Rights, stuff it with a carefully folded American flag, and burn Old Glory in a fiery poof - but manage to leave the Bill of Rights intact.

And if one's favorite amendment is the Second (the right to keep and bear arms), the edgy pair close each show with their signature flourish - catching bullets - fired at each other with .357 Magnums - in their teeth.

However, the P&T act isn't entirely a veiled civics lesson. They lift the curtain on the magician's craft by showing how some tricks are done, occasionally with grotesque effect. Like their fellow magician and scientific skeptic, the Amazing Randi, they expose the fakery of so-called psychics. And some of the show is just pure fun, even enchanting.

Teller, who grew up on Summer Street, near 15th and Vine, does a solo interlude called "Shadows" involving a single red rose that evokes Edgar Allan Poe in being both romantic and macabre.

Now a Las Vegas resident, Teller has recollections of Philadelphia that are both visceral (nearby Hahnemann Hospital gave off "a scent of leftover blood and various antiseptics") and fond (he cherishes hours spent at the Franklin Institute).

Teller used to return to Philadelphia regularly to see his parents and wrote a book with his father, Joe - When I'm Dead All This Will Be Yours! Eventually, he brought his parents to Las Vegas, where they lived until their deaths in 2004.

More than 30 years ago, Penn and Teller worked at Philadelphia's Walnut Street Theater in an act called the Asparagus Valley Cultural Society. There they began their postshow ritual of meeting with the audience. At the upstairs venue at the Walnut, it was unavoidable; there was no backstage, and performers had to pass through the lobby to leave. But they liked the feedback and bonding, and they've continued the practice in Vegas.

Penn & Teller haven't entirely avoided the recessionary pressures squeezing every facet of Las Vegas tourism, seen in plummeting hotel room rates, ubiquitous drink and dining specials, and discounts on entertainment, including even Cirque du Soleil. Although Penn & Teller's show has always been one of the more reasonably priced in Vegas ($75 regular reserved, $85 VIP seating), these days discounts are readily available, making it an even better value.

Asked why P&T have been so popular so long, Teller says Las Vegas audiences are more sophisticated than often assumed. He admits he once shared that prejudice. When it was suggested that P&T play Atlantic City years ago, he worried that casino audiences wouldn't enjoy the subtleties of the act.

"But audiences who come here are simply a cross section of America," he said. And, he added, they seem to appreciate the act's intellectual honesty even while suspending disbelief.

"You know, it's nice that some of the things we do resonate with the audience, but more importantly, what we do resonates with us," he said. "If audiences feel that they have some sympathy with us in that regard, it's because they discover we have something in common, and that's great."

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