Author Archives: Ross Konikoff

Ross Konikoff, freelance New York City trumpet player, states he is delighted and honored to have his work put before the highly discriminating readers of Weekly Hubris, published and edited by his friend and mentor, Elizabeth Boleman-Herring. Konikoff was born in Buffalo, New York, a cold environment; surrounded by desperate people, out of work, out of money, and out of opportunity. And that was just in his house. Determined to pull himself up by his mute straps, Ross quickly ascended from his first job as a seven-year-old paperboy to his second job as an eight-year-old paperboy. Eventually, he taught himself how to play the trumpet and learned many songs; managed to make something of himself; and accumulated a Manhattan condo, a trophy wife, and a phalanx of deadbeat friends along the way. The trumpet requires hours of daily maintenance to stay in tip-top shape, but Ross’s desire to write things that make people laugh also requires hours of work. Splitting his time between his lips and his laptop, he humbly presents to you his first efforts at getting some laughs and, most importantly, some attention: Breaking Even Every Time; and You've Got To Be Carefully Taut. (Banner image: Ross Konikoff on trumpet, far right, with Buddy Rich.)

Posing Nude for Life Drawing Class

“There is no ‘too fat,’ ‘too wrinkled,’ ‘too old,’ or ‘too’ anything in Life Drawing. I gathered from her explanation that, to the student, bodies are nothing more than still lifes, like flowers, or a bowl of fruit, only with genitals.”—Ross Konikoff West Side Stories  By Ross Konikoff MANHATTAN New York—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—I have, as […]

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Trump Speaks at The International #MeToo Convention

“What a great-looking group! So many beautiful women . . . a few maybe not so beautiful, but generally a good-looking crowd. Good evening. Thank you for asking . . . me to attend this, the first . . . annual #MeToo convention. Now, more than ever before, women are speaking up about what they […]

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The Trump Saga: Part 477

“I’m a little embarrassed to tell you this, Sir, but some nights I have dreams, Mr. President, dreams of you as the baby Jesus, lying in the manger at Radio City Music Hall, surrounded by camels, goats, sheep, and actors with fake beards. I stand near you, watching how adorable you look in your pure […]

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The Trump Saga: Part 257

“‘Mr. President . . . .  Mr. President . . . it’s me, Jared,’ he says knocking tentatively on the White House master bedroom door. Getting no response, he carefully opens it to see Trump slumped in his chair, Fox News on the television, the sound turned off. Trump turns and stands up. ‘Jared, come […]

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I Almost Left My Heart in San Francisco

“I, being a devout sensualist, looking for thrills wherever I may unearth one, have become adept at switching perspectives, a mental skill I practice in order to tolerate the occasionally intolerable. It occurred to me that this might be an opportunity to put my skills to the test, converting a simple stroll to the bank […]

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Love on East 13th Street: IV, Ever After

“I burned most of the day kicking around, eyeing my watch. I passed a few lookers on the way home who, under normal circumstances, might have earned a second or third leer, but I was too tormented to make the effort. When I finally got back, I got comfortable and trickled a dozen ounces of […]

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Love on East 13th Street: III, Interplay

“We lugged our wine glasses over to the couch. She pushed in the tape and up came a 40s detective story. Halfway through, our lips got too close, and we lost all interest in finding the real killer.”—Ross Konikoff West Side Stories  By Ross Konikoff (Editor’s Note: Read Parts I [] and II [] of […]

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Love on East 13th Street: II, The Pursuit

“I was at my best that night, hitting on all eight. I can’t say when the fireworks ended but, when I opened my eyes, the sun was blazing through the window, and she was still there, all tangled up in the bedding. One of everything she had two of was uncovered. The room was perfectly […]

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Love on East 13th Street: Part I

“I needed money, a vacation, and a drink, but not in that order. What I had was a low-rent plaster cave on the dodgy end of West 52nd Street, a tired dinner jacket, a warm coat, and a hot trumpet. I pulled on the last three and left for work. As I closed in on […]

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View From the Fridge

“As a trumpet player, I can recall a few stand-out moments of inspiration in my formative years. One was listening to Miles Davis perform the most profound solo on the song “My Funny Valentine,” another was watching Maynard Ferguson as he displayed his unmatched strength and range on the horn. Yet another was hearing a […]

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