Static From My Attic

Emerging from the Woodshed

We often hear stories of various wunderkinder who, as soon as their pudgy toddler hands become articulated enough to thump keys on a keyboard, play

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How Much Do You Care?

If I’ve learned anything in the almost sixty-one years I’ve been on this planet—and it’s doubtful I have—it’s that I’m destined to be the guy

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Fanfare for the Maladroit

Artificial stupidity will never replace the real thing. This motto, of which I should commission an embroidered sampler, is brought home to me on a

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I am not a Robot 🤖

In the interval between publishing the previous issue and the current one, a little something called ChatGPT has come into being. It bids fair to

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Andy Senior about 1975

Andy Senior, Poet

For this month’s column, I cede the floor to Michael Steinman, who published the following kind commentary about me on his excellent site, I

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Andy Senior and Russ Tarby

What Do I Owe You?

As I write this month’s column, it’s challenging to find words to express the depth of my gratitude. I am deeply thankful to all those

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Genre Fluid

Have I told you lately that contention makes me tired? Just when I think it’s possible to pause and enjoy a moment of relative serenity,

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Easter Eggs

I was lucky to grow up in a community that was ethnically (if not racially) diverse. Certain nationalities predominated, and in the cul-de-sac where I

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How Are You?

Not that I want to brood on untoward anniversaries, but this month marks two years since everything shut down, but good. I find with some

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No Happy Dispatch

Over the past two years all of us have had to recalibrate our definition of “normal.” It used to be typical that we would see

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On the Highwire

I’ve never considered myself one for taking risks. I was always that kid whose knees buckled at the notion of climbing to the highest diving

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Wilmoth Houdini

‘Poor But Ambitious’

Let me confess here that I have long had a love of Classic Calypso. I’m referring specifically to the lively and witty Trinidadian music recorded

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Finding the Way Forward

In every issue of The Syncopated Times, I mean to celebrate the life force; syncopation itself is the pulse of life. The beat of one’s

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Philco 20 Depression Buster

Depression Buster

It often happens that, when I need to cleanse my palate of the taste of drudgery that this gig engenders, I will browse our local

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Memento Mori

By the time you hold this paper in your hand, I will have achieved the grim distinction of being exactly the same age New Yorker

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