Show of hands

Is there anybody out there who has ever experienced anything so awful, shameful, horrible, grotesque or otherwise revolting that, by comparison, meeting Ted Kennedy would leave you feeling "washed clean"?

Update: I really have to quote the relevant part of Elizabeth Warren's strange confession:

After pushing the button for an elevator, I put my forehead against the cool, stainless-steel wall in the twenty-fourth-floor lobby. And then I started to cry.

Politics so often feels dirty to me — all the lobbyists and the cozy dealings and the special favors for those who could buy access. But as I stood in the lobby outside Ted Kennedy’s office, I felt as if I’d been washed clean.

Rarely, if ever, have I come across a short narrative that has packed so much confusion, hysteria, disproportionate sentiment and unintentional irony into so few words. These are the ravings of a person who should not be permitted to possess sharp implements, who would probably be far better off feeding little birds through the bars on the window of her padded cell and, at the end of the day, as a reward for good behavior, being fed apple sauce (on a long spoon) by a large, kind man in a white uniform, wearing a Taser on his belt - just in case. And yet, she is a U.S. senator. Simply amazing.