Hello. If this is your first time to Deckchairs on the Titanic, I’d like to welcome you here — a new feature at The Site at MANOVERBOARD.com.
Deckchairs is a Web log which I will periodically or even regularly update to discuss, shout out, or otherwise talk about various issues related to art and culture, the Web, politics, ideologies, news, technology, business, and maybe even myself.
I woke up this morning to the news of a new mayor in the City of New York, Mike Bloomberg. Although many people around me had predicted it, I figured that Bloomberg couldn’t win. But he did. New Yorkers cast their vote for a man with no political expertise and a lot of money and smarts (the political and party parallels to November 2000 are striking). The people have voted with the distinct hope is that he can tie all of the psychological, financial, economic, and ideological strings together again to make this city more whole. A lot of lives and livelihoods will rest in his hands. To say the least. I’ll say more later.
The name, Deckchairs on the Titanic, provided by blog extraordinaire and pal Victor Sparrow, hopefully speaks for itself. I hope Mike Bloomberg will do so as well.

If you have the New York TImes Sunday edition for November 4, 2001, take a look at Jonathan Rosen’s piece called The Uncomfortable Question of Anti-Semitism.
It’s a well-argued essay about the strange phenomenon of anti-Jewish sentiment that arises every time there is a world crisis. From the crusades to the enlightenment to the Dreyfus Trial and the Holocaust, Jews are always the focus of the angry. There are only 13 million Jews right now, making the target pretty small but viable.
One thing that the article brought out for me is the ever-associated question of rationalism. Will this new war (or wars) destroy rationality as we have known it post-enlightenment? I found myself reading the article and thinking about how rationality is a very fragile thing, as rumors, hypotheses, and insecurity are now reigning our media and our minds. I know that post-modernists have often called for the end of the instiutionalization of rationality and I have often agreed in principle. But without rationality and its concomittant foundation of proof, patience, and practicality, what are we left with besides accusations and comformity?

Everyone I know is scared. It’s an amazing phenomenon to be able to speak with every person in proximity to you and they all tell you that they’re frightened.
I’m not sure which is more of a fiasco: Fear Itself or the Ubiquity of Fear.

I have finally, after two years or so, started reading more than one book a week.
In fact, I just finished Meghan Daum’s book of essays called My Misspent Youth. It’s an intelligently written series of observations on online dating, shiksa-dom, and the difficulties of working for $18,000 per year. Unfortunately, as good a writer as she is, she’s a bit too in love with her ability to string words together poetically. And I think she’s trying to re-capture her youth a bit too earnestly through writing about it. Alas. It’s a good read nonetheless – one of the few people of this generation that can substantiate their beliefs in essay form.

I just finished a short piece on Godspeed You Black Emperor for a Web site which I will list later, if and when the piece is up and it looks half decent and it reads well and the illustrations are not bad.
I’m also trying to figure out how to tweak this blogger to make it look more readable. Suggestions are welcome.

Welcome one and all to Deckchairs on the Titanic.
This is a Web log that I set up with the incredible expertise of Victor Sparrow, Web design guy extraordinaire. Much thanks for his help.
Deckchairs on the Titanic (or short: Deckchairs from hereon as I am a good typist but one with not a lot of time on his hands) will try to do what every good Web log does — elucidate the special and illuminate the ordinary. Or something like that.
Please let me know your thoughts as I take this for a ride around the Web hills and valleys. Much inspiration and appreciation again to Victor.
Andrew.