Author Archives: Ross Konikoff

“I finally came face-to-face (mouth-to-ear) with the severity of my handicap a couple weeks ago while standing at the register at Whole foods. Through her mask, the plexi-shield, and the roar of shoppers overpaying for broccoli, the cashier asked if I’d ever sampled the beef fondue in Outer Mongolia. I offhandedly remarked that I had […]

“Today, after many classes where I was advised to think of each dance as a ‘three-minute love affair,’ and after scores of hours practicing in a studio, not to mention many, many nights out on the floor dancing to live swing bands, I have come a long way. In the beginning, my teachers referred to […]

“I stood at the register, waving a crisp double sawbuck around like Legs Diamond, finally gaining the attention of a pretty young thing who, hypnotized by my air of self-assured panache, ran over, all smiles and said, through the thick plexi, through her thick mask, through her thick Brooklyn accent, ‘What’ll it be Mister?’ ‘I’ll […]

“We ate, drank, and sang sea shanties while savoring wines from Santorini and waters from Newark. It was so pleasant to be waited on hand and foot after being constrained at home for so long that all through the meal we billed and cooed like a couple of randy teenagers in love. (Fortunately, there were […]

“As we strolled past the recently erected Radio City Christmas tree last Monday, following a late lunch, at which, owing to our immoderate zest for the grape, we had both consumed quite a few flagons of Satan’s urine, we observed a distinct lack of security. I turned to Deborah, smiled deviously, and said, ‘Are you […]

“With our windows open out onto West 52nd street, these days all we hear is the wailing and yelling of the mentally insane street people, wandering aimlessly, some begging the locals, already at their own wits end, for a tiny bit of baksheesh, one woman, adorned only in four or five torn Hefty bags and […]

“Naturally, this entire incident was deemed supernatural, the symbolic final good-bye from Mother, despite her somewhat graceless departure. The owl story became an instant family classic, one to be recounted every Mother’s Day in a loving tribute to the old bird (the owl, not Mother).”—Ross Konikoff West Side Stories  By Ross Konikoff “Sign Language with […]

“Sandy, they’re all over me with this goddamned Ukraine thing, the Doral Club G 7, and the transcripts. Tell me you didn’t tape our Khashogi calls. If they find out it was my idea to lumber-mill his ass, I’m gonna lose some Midwestern states. Rudy’s gone nuts, Mulvaney just gave my confession on TV, the […]

“She: So then, I’d be the beard?/He: You’d be the beard, the mustache, and the eyebrows . . . anything with follicles. I’ll confess eventually, but for now it’s just easier to throw her a bone so, if you’ve got the guts, let’s give it a try./She: So now I’m a bone, with guts and […]

“Naturally, this entire incident was deemed supernatural, the symbolic final good-bye from Mother, despite her somewhat graceless departure. The owl story became an instant family classic, one to be recounted every Mother’s Day in a loving tribute to the old bird (the owl, not Mother).”—Ross Konikoff West Side Stories  By Ross Konikoff MANHATTAN New York—(Weekly […]