Fud Livingston

In Walked Fud

“[Fud Livingston’s] final decade was a difficult one, and a pernicious addiction to alcohol ultimately took him out ahead of schedule. Until shortly before his

Louis Mazetier feet crop 300x176 - How Clean is Your Palate?

How Clean is Your Palate?

I don’t know if there is a law, axiom, or principle to this effect someplace, but I begin to discover that the best way to

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In the spring of 1973, one could not turn on a radio without the voices of Tony Orlando and Dawn emerging from it, singing “Tie

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A Note of Thanks

Note: Since this was written we have launched an online edition… we still think you should get yourself a physical copy, but you don’t need

87040178 300x213 - Road Raisins: A Ragtime Oddity

Road Raisins: A Ragtime Oddity

—Andy Senior (July 20, 1994) Road Raisins—Oh, how I love ’em! Road Raisins—I gotta have ’em! I pick ’em up in the road— I’m not

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The Bubble of Music

In looking back to The Syncopated Times of December 2016, it unfavorably impressed a few readers when I assumed and seemed (to them) to luxuriate

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A Diamond (Disc) as Big as the Ritz

When I was about ten years old, I became the proud possessor of an Edison Diamond Disc phonograph. This was under the objection of my

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Keys and Buttons

Keys and Buttons I probably don’t state this often enough, but I am most happy when a subscriber, having finished reading an issue of The

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My Father and Casa Loma

I was probably the only kid in my grade school who knew about Glen Gray. That precocious enlightenment came about because my father returned one

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Everybody Must Get Pruned

On being an Editor It must be a form of cosmic retribution—or what the ill-informed call “karma”—or what the sage denizens of my neighborhood mean

Co-Dependent Baby

Co-Dependent Baby (Sung to the tune of You Know What)[columns-container class=””] [one-half-first] Come, Sweetheart mine— Don’t snort that line, Put away your crack pipe and

clutter 300x200 - Among My Auctioneers

Among My Auctioneers

Among My Auctioneers eBay once sold me such glories— I placed my bids without care; My house has only three stories And I need to

No Pot of Gold: Whitesboro St. in Utica NY on St. Paddy's Day.

Can You Dig It?

April Fool’s Day came early this year for some of us in the Northeast when every indication of an early Spring was muffled under what

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Sailing by the Seat of One’s Pants

Owing to an interrupted internet connection this past week, I was almost certain that I would have to complete this issue without the crutches of

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I’m Sorry for Our Loss

One of the little-noted casualties of the Social Media revolution is our fluency in composing a simple and heartfelt message of condolence. The Victorians were

Vintage Tube Radio Parts e1562381242125 300x225 - Making the World Safe for Autocracy

Making the World Safe for Autocracy

Making the World Safe for Autocracy (Feb. 16, 1996) There is delight in dismantling a beautiful machine. Each screw unscrewed, never to be rescrewed. Lordy,

Repairing the piano Eric Devine photo e1562380126369 300x225 - What to Do Until the Piano Tuner Leaves

What to Do Until the Piano Tuner Leaves

Sometimes our past lives come back to haunt us in strange ways. I’m not referring to anything paranormal. Reincarnation is a jolly concept but it

Coat Show (Poem)

Our national discourse has improved considerably Since Barney was elected President. Who else would kids of all ages love and trust Having been spurned and

moser brothers yodel

A Spin of the Dial

I found it on the AM dial. A Hollywood cowboy mimicking the distinctive Alpine sound of the Moser Brothers, a wildly popular touring group of

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I have received many kind compliments since launching The Syncopated Times in February. One deeply gratifying recurring note of praise is that readers have declared

Probation (Poem)

I no longer write poetry Because I was caught satirizing under the influence And my poetic license was revoked. This was a year ago, and

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“Wanna Be a Writer?”

I doubt that it was ever actually true that every five-year-old boy used to want to grow up to be a fireman and that every

RADIOLA 1920s and 1930s clean radiola365 300x300 - This is what I do now.

This is what I do now.

One evening, when I was working away on the present issue, the phone rang. When I am struggling against time and gravity, I’m inclined to

Vice Squad (Poem)

The joy in my moderation is so intense That I can hardly keep from smiling. I have succeeded in defeating temptation By boring it to

Marks by Jim Leftwich from Lost & Found Times #39 (1997)

Coot (Poem)

I won’t eat in a restaurant. They make me nervous. I eat a lot of spam and tomato soup. I roast weenies on a fork

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Can Rhythm Really Save the World?

In addition to being publisher, editor, circulation manager, graphic designer, and advertising director for the paper you are now reading, I am also cook the

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Late Afternoon Sonnet

The pull of gravitation gets me down And holds me as I struggle to ascend; I grapple, its embrace thus to disown, Though certain of

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Dicta By Request

What goes around comes around—usually on Thursday. Every advance in technology is just a new way for people to talk dirty to each other. Some

Busy Box, All Too Busy Box (poem)

Flash and bang and motion flicker in my periphery Demanding brief bursts of comment but never silence. What is there to like? But approval is

Rome Sentinel Printing Press and workmen

In Praise of Dead Trees

The paper you hold in your hands is a paper you hold in your hands for a reason. I’ve stated a determination to produce an

phone man fb 300x158 - Why Must We Always Communicate?

Why Must We Always Communicate?

The soul selects her own society,/Then shuts the door;/On her divine majority/Obtrude no more. –Emily Dickinson Today, of course, anyone reflective enough to read the

Andy Senior Publisher

Publisher’s Coda

Putting together the paper you hold in your hand was no doubt the hardest work I’ve ever done in my life. Added to that, it

Dog Radio Pipe 300x230 - Whatever Became of Nostalgia?

Whatever Became of Nostalgia?

As I rocket headlong through my fifties—fifty being an age when one supposedly begins to get all misty-eyed over the lyrics of “September Song”—I find

John Wayne The Cowboys

We’re Burning Daylight Here!

I have never been particularly fond of getting out of bed in the morning—or in the afternoon, for that matter. My daily dilemma is: do

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