If every age comes to have a name — the Industrial Age, Dark Ages, the Age of Enlightenment, etc. — then I offer this contender for our times: the Age of Misbegotten, Mawkish and Misleading Titles.

My local newspaper, the News & Observer (proposed slogan: “Doing more with less, and there’s less every day!”), has had beaucoup examples of bad titles lately. In fact, the N&O’s political blog, Under the Dome, has offered a series of posts about the titles attached to legislative bills. As Dome points out, some of those titles seek to disguise the bill’s actual intent (”The Healthy Youth Act,” for instance, which is simply yet another sex education bill sure to raise conservative hackles), while others engage in shameless public relations spin (”Taxpayers Protection Act,” which doesn’t actually protect you, but only seeks to limit the state’s plunder of your wallet).

Read all the posts. They’re a nifty primer on the Orwellian thinking behind the titling of our laws.

Then there was this piece about the guy who’s letting the public vote on his job title. Among the contenders, according to his Web site, are “Grand Poombah” and “Like Mark Zuckerberg, but Better.” If either of those titles tell you what the guy actually does, then you’re a more accomplished semanticist than I am. (Or maybe a better semiotician. Damn, titles are hard sometimes.)

The article also mentions a fellow who formed his own advertising agency, and awarded himself the title “lead guitar.” Problem is, lead guitarists aren’t always the top guy in a group. Remember, George Harrison played lead guitar for the Beatles, but he was the third banana in a four-man band. And Slash was always No. 2 behind Axl.

I might call the lead guitar guy when I finally get around to putting together an Archie Bell and the Drells tribute band. But why would I call him for advertising?