Maybe nothing went right for you last week.

Maybe you had car trouble or discovered a leaking pipe or found out the government sent your economic stimulus check to someone who looked a lot like you.

Maybe you sit here on a Sunday, summon your optimism and think, “This next week has to be better.”

For his sake, I hope Vito Fossella thinks that. If you had a bad week, he had worse.

In an ever-expanding universe of stupidity, Mr. Fossella hit the trifecta.

The Republican congressman from New York got things off to a good start by being arrested for drunken driving. In a field sobriety test, he could not recite the alphabet from “D” through “T.”

For the record, recitation of the alphabet is not a requisite for holding a seat in the U.S. House.

Then, it came to light that the congressman, who has a wife and three children, had a long-standing extramarital relationship with a woman who lives outside of Washington.

To complete the picture, the 43-year-old lawmaker admitted to fathering a daughter with the woman.

Mr. Fossella managed all this disgrace in a single week. For a capital city that can’t seem to get anything done, it might be the single greatest act of efficiency ever.

As of Friday, he had made no plans regarding his political future. In most normal circumstances, a man would take the hint that humiliation has provided.

In Washington, where fellows with lewdness issues in airport restrooms can remain on the public payroll, all options are open.

Not so for Hillary Clinton, whose decision to remain in the Democratic presidential race with no chance of winning has become a thing over which to wring hands.

As weeks go, she did far better than her fellow New Yorker Mr. Fossella. She won one primary, lost another.

But people in the know keep waving calculators her way. She will never get enough delegates to win her party’s nomination. Every day she stays in the race, they tell her, she aids and abets Republican John McCain.

They gang up on her, insisting she should put party above self and get out of the race.

No way, she says.

Truthfully, in modern campaigning, when everything seems so scripted and stage-managed, this might be the best of all acts of rebellion. You just refuse to leave.

There is family precedent in this regard. You might remember in 2001, after George W. Bush had taken the oath as president, the departing William Jefferson Clinton had a rally before leaving Washington. “I left the White House,” he told the crowd, “but I’m still here.”

Now, his wife can’t find the needed numbers to beat Barack Obama, but she’s still here.

You feel contempt for the person who won’t go home after the party is long over. You feel sorry for the high-school jock who won’t admit his bygone athleticism. You feel impatience for the speaker who doesn’t know when to shut up.

For Ms. Clinton’s odd doggedness, you almost feel admiration. It’s sort of like the Black Knight in the Monty Python sketch, who declares his severed limbs “just a flesh wound” and wants to fight on.

Call it what you want. Just don’t say she had a bad week.

Ken Newton’s column runs on Sundays and Tuesdays.