There is apparently something in the genetic makeup of the Nakagawa family that makes them prone to self-destruction when the one thing for which they have yearned is within their grasp.
Ichiro Nakagawa, father of the disgraced former finance minister Shoichi Nakagawa, had just failed to win the election for the presidency of the Liberal Democratic Party in 1983, and with it the prime ministership, when he committed suicide in a hotel room. Given the revolving-door nature of the top position in Japanese politics, it is inevitable he would have had another chance within a year or two.
On Saturday, in arguably the most high-profile political suicide in Japanese history, his son's drunken, incoherent ramblings destroyed any future ambitions that he had of being leader of Japan. At just 55, it would almost certainly one day have been his.
The Japanese people have been remarkably forgiving of their politicians down the years, re-electing men (as politics in Japan is usually a male preserve, and it is men who find themselves in trouble) who have been caught out having extramarital affairs, abusing political funds, accepting backhanders or simply being incompetent at their jobs.
When it was done at home, before a primarily Japanese audience, it could be shrugged off as an indiscretion. But with the nation being told to tighten its belt and accept rising unemployment, reduced wages and at least another 12 months of economic uncertainty, Shoichi Nakagawa appeared before the world's press and humiliated Japan.
Ordinary Japanese describe his performance as 'shameful' or 'disgraceful'. There is no shrugging of shoulders this time.