You know that moment at the end of the movie The Sixth Sense when the Bruce Willis character finally, finally gets it that he's dead, and has been walking around like that for who knows how long? Watching it on Halloween with my 10-year-old who thinks M. Night Shyamalan might be God, it was impossible not to wonder when poor John Kerry is going to wake up and smell the formaldehyde. (Please, Teresa? We can see him!)
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