so it goes

All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true.

Kurt Vonnegut's dead.

Now I'm really depressed.

I still consider that essay from junior year of college where I managed to draw parallels between Billy Pilgrim and the 16th century narrative of a shipwrecked Spanish explorer to be one of my finer literary achievements.

I think this, taken with my present circumstances, totally justifies me in buying Neil Gaiman's new collection of stories. Cheer me up, Neil, please.

I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different.