Listen, here is what I got out of Breakfast of Champions.

Every person has their own story. The nicest people you know could be ugly and hateful on the inside. We destroy not only what we love most, but also what we should actually love the most. We are all scared and damaged people who turn to self-destruction to cope with the horrors of the every day and the knowledge of our ever approaching mortality. If we were aware that this is what we were doing then it would horrify us. So we either ignore it and choose the bliss of ignorance, or we nihilistically and cynically accept the status quo, and so on.

Does Vonnegut have an answer to all that? I don't know, but I enjoyed Breakfast of Champions, and I'm doubly glad I read it now in these dark times.