There are plenty of cemeteries around Washington DC. Plenty of famous people who chose this spot as their final resting place. And tourists constantly find themselves pensively standing alongside the graves of such icons as Audie Murphy, John F. Kennedy or Thurgood Marshall to pay tribute to their accomplishments.

However, I propose we build more and at breakneck speed.

 Yes!

Clear that land!  Use eminent domain. Raze buildings and chisel new tombstones! Don’t delay. After all, you frankly can’t get it done fast enough.

Oh but I must mention, there’ll be no real digging necessary. Nope, a small service and a epitaph will do just fine. No bodies will actually make it into this hallowed ground. This proposal of mine, is for the “Cemetery of Political Suicides and Dashed Presidential Dreams”.

Ah, and prepare a sizable plot for Mark Sanford.

The South Carolina governor and one-time presidential hopeful for the struggling GOP’s 2012 plan threw it all away in an awe-inspiring fashion last month with his admission that his story of hiking in the Appalachians was all a ruse. No, he was instead in Argentina winding down after a tough budget battle…..with his mistress! That’s right. A mistress, and not really his first either. It turns out, Sanford later divulged, that he’s “crossed the line” many times over the years with many women. (Can’t you just see the ‘Sanford in 2012’ campaign buttons being piled into a large dumpster right about now?)

The saddest part of all of this is that his story is so unequivocally NOT unique. Sure the details change but the heart of the offense is always the same. Just ask John Ensign, David Vitter, John Edwards (whose political corpse seems to be buried, dug up, then buried again on almost a monthly schedule as of late), Eliot Spitzer, Larry Craig…it goes on and on and on.

So many leaders; so many disappointments. Countless voters and supporters stripped of their faith in the system, in its leaders, in government.

But continual falls from grace (in a city where dedications and ceremonies are a daily occurrence) seem fit to be commemorated.

The aspirations of throngs of men who’d one day like to forward their mail to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue are being quashed now, so act soon!

Erect a shining golden sign above some impressive wrought-iron gates and let’s open for business. And pick a place where there’s plenty of available property nearby.

(I don’t think we’ve seen the last of our scandalous spirits ready for an R.I.P above their names)