California voters opening their ballots for the June 2 gubernatorial primary will find sixty-one names staring back at them, a field so bloated it reads less like a serious election and more like a monument to the state's remarkably low barriers to entry. Among the crowd: a man who legally changed his name to Barack D. Obama Shaw, a candidate who goes by "LivingForGod AndCountry DeMott," and a former congressman who dropped out after sexual assault allegations but whose name remains printed on the ballot anyway.

Welcome to democracy, California-style.

The sheer size of the field tells you everything about how the Golden State manages its elections. KTLA reported that qualifying for the ballot requires only that a candidate be an American citizen, be registered to vote, and be free of felony convictions for bribery, embezzlement, extortion, theft of public money, perjury, or conspiracy to commit those crimes. A candidate also cannot have served two terms as governor since 1990. Beyond that, the paperwork is straightforward: file an intention statement with the secretary of state's office, set up a campaign finance account, disclose five years of tax returns, and pay a filing fee of $4,918.58, or collect 6,000 petition signatures to skip the fee.

That's it. No viability threshold. No minimum polling requirement. No demonstrated base of support. Just a check and some forms, and your name goes on millions of ballots.

The frontrunners and the also-rans

Somewhere in that 61-name list are candidates who actually poll above one percent. On the Republican side, KTLA identified conservative commentator Steve Hilton and Riverside County Sheriff Chad Bianco as the two frontrunners. Democrats, as usual in California, dominate the top tier: former Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra, billionaire philanthropist Tom Steyer, former Rep. Katie Porter, San Jose Mayor Matt Mahan, former Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, and State Superintendent Tony Thurmond.

That leaves roughly fifty-three candidates who are, for practical purposes, filling space on a ballot that already requires a magnifying glass to read.

California compounds the confusion with a randomization procedure for ballot order. The state mixes up the sequence of candidate names depending on the voter's assembly district, meaning the order you see on your ballot may differ from your neighbor's. The secretary of state's office administers the process, which is designed to prevent any single candidate from gaining an advantage by appearing first. Whether it succeeds in a field this large is another question entirely.

The former president's name has remained in the news for reasons well beyond California's ballot. Barack Obama recently admitted that political pressures have strained his marriage, a reminder that the Obama brand still carries weight, and apparently enough weight for at least one Californian to adopt it as his own.

A Barack Obama on the ballot, just not that one

The most eye-catching name on the ballot belongs to Barack D. Obama Shaw, a Democratic candidate who changed his name after being inspired by the first Black president. He is not, to be clear, the former commander-in-chief. But his full legal name will appear alongside the other sixty candidates, and in a state where name recognition can matter more than policy positions, the choice is hard to dismiss as coincidence.

Shaw's presence raises a question California's election laws apparently don't address: should a candidate be allowed to run under a name specifically chosen to mimic a famous political figure? The state's qualification requirements focus on citizenship, voter registration, criminal history, and financial disclosure. They say nothing about whether a candidate's name might mislead voters.

The broader Obama legacy, of course, remains a subject of fierce political debate. Declassified intelligence records have fueled renewed scrutiny of the former president's conduct, and his name continues to surface in contexts far removed from any California primary ballot.

Ghost candidates and a system that doesn't clean house

The ballot also features names of candidates who are no longer running. Former congressman Eric Swalwell dropped out of the race and resigned from office after sexual assault allegations came to light, yet his name remains printed on the ballot. Former state controller Betty Yee ended her gubernatorial bid and endorsed Tom Steyer, but voters will still see her name listed among the sixty-one.

In most states, a withdrawn candidate's name gets removed or marked accordingly. California's system, at least in this cycle, appears to leave them in place, creating the real possibility that voters cast ballots for people who have already quit.

This isn't a minor procedural quirk. It's a design flaw that can split votes, confuse casual voters, and undermine the legitimacy of results. When a disgraced former congressman's name sits alongside serious contenders, the ballot itself becomes unreliable as a guide to the actual race.

Meanwhile, the state's political landscape continues to generate headlines that have nothing to do with governance. Obama has publicly pointed to political tensions as a source of strain in his marriage, a storyline that underscores how deeply personal the political environment has become, even for those no longer in office.

The fringe candidates tell a story, too

Beyond the frontrunners and the name-changers, the ballot includes candidates like LivingForGod AndCountry DeMott, yes, that is the name on the ballot. DeMott has no party affiliation and lists work experience in pest control and as a chaplain. His platform opposes ICE raids and the vehicle miles traveled tax.

Voters disillusioned with both major parties will also find candidates aligned with the Libertarian Party, the Peace and Freedom Party, and the Socialist Workers Party. The field is nothing if not diverse in ideology, even if most of its members will never crack one percent in any poll.

The filing fee of $4,918.58, or the alternative of gathering 6,000 signatures, is low enough that virtually anyone with modest resources and a cause can get on the ballot. That openness is, in theory, a democratic virtue. In practice, it produces a sixty-one-name ballot that dilutes serious candidates, confuses voters, and turns a consequential election into something closer to a phone book.

The state's political culture has long prized accessibility and inclusion over efficiency. California's top-two primary system, in which all candidates regardless of party appear on a single ballot and the top two advance to a general election, was designed to encourage competition. But when sixty-one people qualify for a single race, the system isn't encouraging competition. It's drowning it.

South Carolina recently moved to honor the former president by naming a stretch of I-77 after Barack Obama, a more conventional form of recognition than having a stranger adopt your name and run for governor.

What voters actually face on June 2

Ballots must be cast, dropped off, or postmarked by June 2. Voters will navigate a list that includes two credible Republicans, six polling Democrats, a handful of third-party candidates, at least two people who have already withdrawn, a man named after a former president, and a candidate whose legal name is a sentence fragment about God and country.

The qualification requirements, as published by the secretary of state's office, demand nothing about viability, seriousness, or even a functioning campaign. They ask only for citizenship, voter registration, a clean record on a narrow list of felonies, some paperwork, and a modest fee.

California's leaders like to lecture the rest of the country about how democracy should work. Their own gubernatorial ballot, sixty-one names long, littered with withdrawn candidates and novelty entries, suggests they might want to start closer to home.

A state that can't keep a clean ballot has no business telling anyone else how to run an election.