It’s November 6, 2018. You’ve waited in line at your polling site, you’ve received your ballot, and you’re now in the voting booth. You get to the bottom of the ballot and here’s the constitutional amendment ballot question that appears before you:
“[ ] FOR [ ] AGAINST Constitutional amendment to change the process for filling judicial vacancies that occur between judicial elections from a process in which the Governor has sole appointment power to a process in which the people of the State nominate individuals to fill vacancies by way of a commission comprised of appointees made by the judicial, executive, and legislative branches charged with making recommendations to the legislature as to which nominees are deemed qualified; then the legislature will recommend at least two nominees to the Governor via legislative action not subject to gubernatorial veto; and the Governor will appoint judges from among these nominees.”
Confused? You should be. Any good high school English teacher would refer to this ballot question as one big run-on sentence. Think about it: While you’re standing in the voting booth, the General Assembly has charged you to comprehend and then vote on a 101-word single sentence separated by two semi-colons. For all the jokes the Republican General Assembly makes about lawyers, this is the ultimate ballot question written by lawyers.