It is rare for a political event to be both overdue and shocking. Somehow, the State Capitol brought us both yesterday.

It began with an affair, meandered through some high-grade corruption, finished with a big-ass dose of depression. The story laid on the floors of power for years- a turd that no one wanted to clean up. The hosts simply hoped the guests wouldn’t notice.

The initial affair was okay with the Republican leadership. Everyone can understand that, right? And the corrupt practice of banging a lobbyist while pushing legislation that she was advocating? Hey, that’s okay too, bro. We’re all just guys around here.

Even the jilted wife publicly ignored the transgression. They divorced and her mouth stayed shut.

But attempted suicide? That’s going too far. Hurt your wife, your family, the state of Georgia, and all’s cool. Hurt yourself and everyone becomes angry.

This turd was a magical thing though. It kept growing in the parlor as the dinner party progressed, and what was once a cute little dachshund milk-dud started to grow into some massive St. Bernard pile of poop that made it difficult to maneuver around. Hard to throw a party at taxpayer expense when the Stone Mountain of Shit is next to the dinner table.

Richardson is gone. Rumors are that others are to follow. Smart money is that those rumors won’t ultimately come to pass- mainly because our leaders believe that extramarital affairs are an occupational hazard. They are unfortunate- but understandable.

If those rumored Republican love-machines just keep banging their mistresses, all is well in the Gold Dome. That’s not a problem, hell, that’s a job benefit.

Abuse your power gentlemen, and that’s fine. Abuse yourself and call 911, and you’re being tossed out on your ass.

Pro-Tip: Stay on good terms with the ex-wife. If she can avoid the dogshit in the parlor room, anyone can. But once she starts to complain about the smell, the houseguests notice quickly.