There's an old Soviet joke:

A man goes to a newspaper stand every day, buys a copy of Pravda, glances at the front cover, curses, and throws it away.

After a few weeks of this the seller just has to ask what's going on: "why do you always look at the cover but never inside?"

"I'm looking for an obituary."

"An obituary? But those are in the back!"

"Oh no, the obituary I'm looking for will be on the front page."

Definitely. But don’t count on things automatically getting better after. Too many other unsavory characters waiting in the wings

New years was a practice round. The moment I see he's dead in the news I'm banging pots and pans and cheering at the top of my lungs.

Same