1945 Letter from Kurt Vonnegut to his family from a repatriation camp, in which he informs them of his capture and survival

Harold Graves transcribes a homeless veteran he meets on the subway:

“You people want to see a fuckin’ parade? You want to celebrate something? Have a fuckin’ parade for Death! That’s what you should have a parade for! You know why? Death don’t discriminate! Death don’t care what color you is, or whether you is insured or not! Fuck Veteran’s Day, man! Let’s have a Death Parade! You think you’re hot shit? You think you’re bad? Then let’s see you end the war in Iraq! That’s right! Let’s see you put an end to homelessness! That’s right folks! Death don’t respect nobody, not even Michael Jackson! Not even Michael Fucking Jackson, the King of Pop! Death don’t respect nobody, no sir! Everybody gets treated the same by Death! Let’s have a National Holiday and a ticker-tape Parade for Death! No shit, man! Your death is someone else’s holiday, baby!”