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.
7 comments:
Those little boxes in front of each item? They were supposed to be pointing fingers. Very disappointing.
The Swedish Chef, eh. Mork, mork, mork.
Somehow I find it very endearing that you too suffer from the pitfalls of HTML.
and by the way, what will you have to shut down?
Oh, ethanol support, enforcement of anti-medical marijuana laws, foreign aid to Pakistan, the No Poet Left Behind program--just the usual stuff.
No Poet Left Behind. Very droll.
I might have known.
But you WERE published in the Shit Creek Review. Which really did exist. Which even nominated your poem for a Pushcart. Which probably does not really exist.
Well, that's all true, and great comfort it is to me as I palely loiter over my 2011 calendar. And I tell myself, "You're not responsible for the demise of the SCR. It didn't fail because you appeared in it. That's what happens to all things brown and beautiful."
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