so it goes...still

Not much has changed two years on, sir. I'm almost finished with everything I can find of yours. Like you, in a way, I've become childish in my fiftieth year. Although I don't draw assholes. But, let's see, yes, men are still butchering other men. Even closer now, sir. Why, just a little south of our border, down Mexico way, wide-eyed heads are literally rolling in our direction, right up against where there should be a fence. You know, speaking of invisible fences, those things really work, sir! Why, just the other day, a fraggle-toothed attack puppy came sprinting up to me at a strangers house, and damn if it didn't slam right into where the manicured lawn met me at the edge of the sidewalk.
Um.
That reminds me! You'll never guess, sir, who I saw departing a bus down at the station last Tuesday! He didn't stay long, but I was glad to see him for the first time in my life! He was only here a few fleeting seconds. At the bottom step the elderly gentleman turned to me and asked where in the Hell he was, and I hesitatingly answered, Mr. Trout, you have truly now arrived in Indianapolis, the asshole of the universe. As the bus smoked slowly southward, vanishing into the mist, he tossed down at my shoes from the tinted window a ragged copy of his latest failed book, So It Goes.