They appear all over the ballot, representing both sides of the aisle in races from judge to Assembly to Congress.

They're fringe candidates or just flat out unqualified for office. You probably wouldn't invite these people into your home, let alone elect them to represent you. But they're there, and with a few strokes of luck, a few could easily win.

Voters blew it, frankly, in the primary election for a new seat on the Clark County District Court. It's Department 23, and the most qualified candidate, Gerald Gardner, must now watch as perennial candidate Bill Henderson tries to make up ground against an aggressive campaign by former law clerk Elizabeth Halverson.

You might have seen Halverson at an event sometime in the past year. She's the morbidly obese candidate wheeling around Democratic and Republican functions alike sucking oxygen through tubes affixed to her face.

She's on a personal jihad against the two Hardcastle judges, having been placed on leave by Judge Kathy after Halverson filed two years ago to run against Judge Gerald. Halverson was eventually fired.

Henderson is the guy who hasn't taken down his campaign signs for four cycles. You've seen the red, white and blue Henderson signs all over the county since 2000. Maybe the fourth time will be the charm. By the time voters get down their ballot to the nonpartisan judicial races, they may just think he's the incumbent. The only solace is that since it's a new department, it's only a two-year term. And at least both are attorneys.

But being at the top of the ballot doesn't mean the candidates get any better. Take the 1st Congressional District. It's second on the ballot, right there on the first screen, for goodness sake. And the Republican nominee is part freelance Dog the Bounty Hunter and three parts BS.

I first met Ken Wegner two years ago, when he tried unsuccessfully to win the Republican nomination in the 3rd Congressional District. He's wearing a suit this year, cleaning up enough to possibly draw more than 30 percent of the vote against Democratic incumbent Shelley Berkley.

During a recent Review-Journal editorial board meeting, he kept using the collective "we" to describe the warrant work he does each night. "When we call dispatch," or, "We pulled a guy off a lunch cart." It was never clear, however, who he was working with as a bail enforcement agent or who was paying him for cuffing bad guys. At one point he referred to his job as "volunteer warrant service" and said he went to an academy at community college for 2 1/2 years to get licensed.

Hmm. In an interview for the Review-Journal's voter guide prior to the primary election, he said he had attended UNLV for two years, studying education and history.

If you're a conservative, Wegner might just talk your language on immigration. He also advocates a modified flat income tax. But the resounding message I got during a 30-minute meeting last week was "run away."

Describing his military service, Wegner said he was in, then got discharged and "went all over the world to places I've never been or seen," before re-enlisting for the 1992 Gulf War. Spooky.

Then there's the little question about why he wouldn't accept any campaign contributions from political action committees or community groups such as Nevada Concerned Citizens. I asked him why he returned NCC's check.

"I have a really cute secretary," Wegner responded, using an analogy comparing campaign fundraising to extramarital temptation. "My wife's had a few kids, doesn't have a great body anymore and my secretary is really hot.

"It's that first kiss that's going to kill you," he continued. "My secretary just wants a kiss."

A slippery slope indeed.

Most of us will never have to interact with our congressional representative and even fewer will land in Halverson's or Henderson's courtroom. But your Assembly member is closer to you than any representative. Assembly districts are typically smaller than city wards or County Commission districts. And the state impacts everything from highway construction to school spending and taxes.

Voters in Assembly District 7 haven't seen their assemblyman, Morse Arberry, in years. I know, because unlike the incumbent, I used to live there. Wonder what a private eye would find if he staked out Arberry's "home" in Bonanza Village. The incumbent who once famously described his filing system before the Ethics Commission as "I got two piles," is lightly challenged by former Libertarian Stan Vaughan.

Eccentric doesn't accurately describe Vaughan, who has been sued by the U.S. Chess Federation for inappropriately calling himself a grandmaster. He'd be wiser to master the art of campaigning.

Erin Neff's column runs Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. She can be reached at 387-2906, or by e-mail at eneff@reviewjournal.com.