Tom Romita

Writer. Director. Frustrated Human.

Tom has been successfully (not) writing “unscripted” television shows for almost twenty years.  From the romantic comedy of “Blind Date” and “Matched in Manhattan,” to the family drama of “Wife Swap” and “Shalom in the Home,” to the workplace shenanigans of “Counting Cars” and “New York Ink,” Tom has crafted stories to the delight of millions of viewers over the years.  He’s reached a level of success that has allowed him to live in the city he loves, New York, and secure a wife and daughter so beautiful, people think he’s adopted.  But now, he’s doing it the right way. He’s writing stuff down. Right here. Please enjoy his website, and feel free to share, Tweet or contact Tom directly to say hi, exchange ideas, or introduce him to really rich people who might want to produce his movies.


I hate Magicians. Not exactly sure why. Maybe it’s the clothes. Maybe it’s the hair. Maybe it’s the choreography. Maybe it’s because they all look alike. (White male, dark hair.) Maybe it’s because some of these geeks have actually become sex symbols. Maybe it’s that intense stare they all put on for publicity shots. You get paid to do tricks. Smile douchebag.


Maybe it’s because the more popular they get, the less they have to do. I would imagine it's harder to impress a bunch of people huddled around you on the street, than a theatre full of overweight Midwesterners, with a production staff of 100 working with you in a Vegas casino.

If you get really big, you can get a TV special. Visual illusions on TV. Tough stuff. Who the fuck green lit that? The guy who created Cop-Rock? Shelly Long’s agent?

And what’s with the tigers? Have an original thought why don’t you? Make a wombat fly or something.

What really gets me though is that in essence- these guys do nothing. Petty fraud at best. Their job is to sell you something that you aren’t really getting. Like palm readers and real estate agents. We’ve all had the experience of seeing a trick and being “amazed” at the apparent "skill" of the magician. Then the trick is revealed, and it's so simple you are completely disappointed at the complete lack of skill actually needed to pull it off. But that doesn’t stop these dorks from prancing around the stage, sweating in mock urgency, convincing millions that what they are doing is actually difficult.


A magic show leads otherwise intelligent people into the most inane arguments afterward. You’ve all been there:

“Wow did you see when he ate that book of matches then shot fire out of his ass? How did he do that?”

“Prop in his pants, maybe?”

“Noooo I looked for a bulge near his asshole, didn’t see one.”

“Little blowtorch in his hand?”

“Noooo no way, he wouldn’t have time to light it.”

“I don’t know maybe he eats Taco Bell before each show.”

“You’re being silly.”

“Oh I’M being silly? You're the one who seems to think farting fire is MAGIC!!!!!”

This is the essence of the magic game. There is a simple, boring, un-sexy explanation for all of these tricks. We just don’t know what it is while watching it go down. We choose to be entertained by these wonks, even though they aren't doing anything interesting. You can try and try and try to figure the tricks out, and if you are successful, you’ve ruined the appeal. As long as you are ignorant, these tanned turdheads are entertaining.

It’s not magic. If any of these goofballs had actual access to supernatural powers, trust me, they wouldn’t be grinding it out on the Vegas strip every night. Twice on Saturdays. They’d be conjuring up a few trillion bucks and a Bellagio suite full of Megan Foxes. Or...tigers.