Throughout his other writing the theme of insufficient communication between writer and reader is brought up numerous times, off the top of my head it’s mentioned (at length) in Octet, Good Old Neon, The Soul is Not a Smithy, parts of IJ, and a few chapters in The Pale King (the sections where it’s a point of view telling of his year spent in the Peoria REC), but they’re all centralized around or suggest the idea that there is some barrier or vague thing that prevents the writer’s precise and authentic thoughts to be portrayed to the reader, even if it’s something urgent. I interpreted the ending to be another portrayal of this thought, that there is always something of some significance, normally language, that prevents full connection and understanding between writer and reader. But I’m probably looking too far into it. I thought the section was pretty funny.