So there you are, in the Assembly, running for reelection, and you have to describe your "principal professions, vocations or occupations." You're limited to three words. This is going to be your ballot designation, and even voters who don't read your campaign literature, see your lawn signs or know where the Capitol is are going to see these words, right on their ballot, when they go to vote. Your political consultant tells you your choice will have a huge impact on your chances. What should you say?
"Incumbent." No, forget it. Voters are pretty unhappy with incumbents right now, and besides, many aren't exactly sure what the word means. It sounds like it might be a difficult position in gymnastics. Or maybe yoga.
"Assembly member." No way. You want to hide that.
"Attorney." After all, you're a licensed lawyer. But wait: Voters don't like them much either. Unless they're criminal prosecutors. Didn't you used to be one? "Criminal prosecutor." Or better yet, "Gang prosecutor." You've got that long coat and you often drape it over your shoulders, so maybe you can say, "Caped crusader." But no, your opponent is going to call you out on that, and a court may say that's not a profession, vocation or occupation. Let's see. "Space cowboy"? "Gangster of love"? Come on now, be serious. Hey, you could get a gig teaching one class a week at the night law school downtown, and then call yourself "Law professor"! Lots of judicial candidates do that, and the courts usually let it slide because many of the judges making the rulings did the same thing when they were running.