His Most Transparent Exalted Regular Joe-ness?

Mad Max, that’s the one I’d go with.
If we’re talking about someone who’s mad as hell, and not going to take it anymore, why not give him the title to go with the attitude?
As the three million or so Assistant Vice Presidents, the 27 million Administrative Assistants, and the 102 million Wal-Mart Associates will tell you, titles are important.
They’re what we hang our hats on, when the other indicators of success are not forthcoming. You know: ‘we can’t give you a raise but, how about this coool title?’
Like ‘columnist’, instead of local crank.
It’s a badge, a trophy, stripes on your sleeve: it may not mean anything in the real world, but it makes for a heck of a first impression.
Mayor?
I don’t think so.
When I hear ‘mayor’, I think of old guys in Fedoras, waving to the photographers as they board the boat for Alcatraz; or smoke-filled rooms where deals are sealed with a hand-shake and a fat envelope of cash.
Sure, I know that’s not fair, not all mayors are crooks: but if what we are looking for is someone to take names and kick butts, than mayor doesn’t cut it, for me at least.

So I went through my big book of pompous, helium-filled titles the other day, and I came up with some likely contenders.
Margrave.
The Margrave of Plymouth?
I had never heard that title before. Turns out a Margrave ranks somewhere between a Count and an Earl, and was originally a noble in charge of the marches (the border regions) where territorial disputes were common.
A Margrave has the kind of special powers that our President claims for himself today – arguing that, ‘in times of war’, just about anything goes.
If we were having daily skirmishes on our borders with Carver or Kingston, Margrave might be the perfect title for our new leader.
One of my personal favorites is Archduke – it has a John Wayne flavor to it, a high degree of inherent pomposity, and the suggestion that if things go wrong, all hell will break loose.
Archduke Jones has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?
I don’t think it will sell though: it’s hard enough trying to go from a democratic form of government to a monarchy. But going from Selectperson to Archduke, may be asking too much.
Burgermeister should be in the running, don’t you think: it’s just the German word for mayor, but it sounds much more prosperous.
If we were looking for a guy in black leather ‘lederhosen’ to lead the Oompah Band at our annual Oktoberfest, or someone to officiate at the opening of the new Entergy Energy Mall, a Burgermeister would seem the perfect title.
Actually, I don’t think the leaders of the Mayor for Plymouth campaign would find any of the titles I have mentioned so far, acceptable: they want something that encompasses almost all of the qualities I have listed, and more.
They want a title that comes with its own brass-buttoned uniform, that suggests the power to declare martial law, that implies the ability to sing German drinking songs, and, at the same time, is as welcoming as Mr. Rogers.
Grand Poobah?
High Hokeefenokee?
They want the body of agent Jack Bauer, Harrison Ford’s head, Sponge Bob’s voice, Bill Clinton’s earnest eyes, and the salesmanship of that guy who convinces people that adding a drop of orange juice to just about any liquid will clean, brighten, and digest better than anything you have ever tried before.
But wait, there’s more.
They also want a title that implies sacrificial lamb: someone who, if they don’t appease the mob, will eagerly walk the plank.
Have you ever heard of such a thing: a full-time politician that, once elected, will willingly acknowledge his failures and resign with a smile? Still, that’s what they want.
So the big Hottentot must –like the Tin Man, take on wicked witches and flying monkeys and yet, after exposing ‘the man’ behind the curtain, take his heart-shaped watch and go into retirement without a fight.
Then, after the Tin Man or the Margrave or whatever title we thought we gave the job to, steps down, the real mayor can step forward from behind the curtain and proclaim, “I am the great and powerful Oz!”
He may be a snake oil salesman from a traveling carnival, but at least he’ll have a heck of a title.