Sanity

Am I sane?

I never thought I'd ask myself that. Usually such a question is directed to my show's callers, though "insane" is the word more often used. And unlike what I ask myself now, such questions are usually rhetorical. You know, a precedent to cut the maniacs off the air, justifying it through their tirades both before and after said precedent. Chatterbox is, or at least was, a centre for rational discussion, conspiracy theories or one masquerading as the other. Unfortunately, it seems that fewer and fewer of my callers conform to either one of these categories. They're nutters, but not the ones I'd hoped would call.

Perhaps I should have paid more attention to the signs before I moved to Liberty City. No, not the ones that say Welcome to Liberty City, but the more subtle ones. You know, messages that if written alongside those billboards, would have extensions such as "where lunatics thrive" or "a nice place to leave." But as these messages weren't written, I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Or maybe I did, but decided that anything was preferable to Vice City or San Andreas. Yes, even the city rated as "the worst place in America" would be able to suffice for a career in radio.

The millennium came and went. 1998 seemed like a good time to start out, given that people could reminisce on the good ol' twentieth century and complain about the twenty-first, provided that our computers didn't take over and initiate a nuclear war Vinewood-style. Conflict is said to be the essence of drama and theoretically, there'd be no limit to what people could complain about, listing out society's problems. What I didn't count on however, was that society's problems stemmed from its people rather than its system. Cannibals, witches, internet fanatics...if these were the people of the twentieth century, then I'd be glad to leave it behind. Oh sure, there was the whole Y2K thing and its accompanying conspiracy theories, but provided we lived past the cyber apocalypse, then I could look forward to an age of rationality, where shaving-lovers and children with unsettlingly advanced vocabularies could be left behind.

How wrong I was.

Some of the lunatics followed me, some of them didn't. But the new millennium ushered a new wave of weirdos to replace the old ones. Nudists, eccentric marine colonels, Poms who wanted spanking...Oh sure, the occasional sane person came around to complain about everything but themselves in the proper fashion, but these people were few and far between. And being sane didn't necessarily rule you out from being a pimp or amateur martial arts expert either. With a new millennium and new generation, it appeared that sane human beings were a dying breed.

And that's what makes me wonder about myself.

There's a saying that in a time of darkness to let the blind man lead the way. And while I feel blind in this new world order, unable to go down whatever path may exist, I am left to wonder as to where I belong. Am I an oddity in Liberty City? Am I the insane one, a weird individual in light of what appears to be the norm for human beings nowadays? Are my pleas for rationality and intelligent conversation futile, a relic of the previous millennium? Perhaps. But surrounded by these people, I have no way of knowing. And I guess I never will.

This is Lazlow (yes, that is my real name), signing off.