I did not win the Nobel Prize for Literature.
I did not get a 10-year extension from the Angels (or, come to think of it, the Devils).
I am not going to be the Republican nominee. Probably.
I did not read any of my poems at the Super Bowl halftime show. (N.B. I have written new poems since then.)
Neither Brad Pitt nor Tilda Swinton is playing me in a new biopic. (On the plus side, neither is Cee Lo Green nor The Swedish Chef.)
My new budget is deadlocked in committee. If it isn't passed (and funded) soon, I may have to shut down.
Last time I looked, at least 3 of the authors on the NYT bestseller list were dead. (In several more cases one just couldn't tell.) This offers me promise for the future.