I am today announcing my candidacy to become the first American governor-general of Greenland.

The potentates of U.S. territories are customarily called governors, I understand. But for such a splendid “piece of ice,” I think a grander title is called for, from the glory days of the British Empire.

And let’s be blunt. We are going to acquire Greenland, one way or another. NATO can’t prevent it. They have less military prowess than the Ancient & Honorable Artillery Company.

Like the Ancients, NATO is invincible in peace, invisible in war.

As the first American ruler of Greenland, some have suggested that the title of “viceroy” might also be appropriate for me. But who wishes to be associated with a mediocre, also-run filter cigarette from the Seventies?

Listeners of mine have also told me that perhaps I should anoint myself “High Commissioner.” That’s not bad, but the word “High” has some negative connotations, when you consider the fate of so many “high sheriffs” in Massachusetts.

Steve Tompkins, Jim DiPaola, Honest John McGonigle — high sheriffs around here often don’t end their careers on a high note. Why would a high commissioner be any different?

But enough with the titles. Why do I deserve to be the first U.S. governor-general of Greenland?

First, to deal with any resentment about “colonizers” taking over, I would point out that although no Americans are actual “native sons,” I come closer than most would-be imperialists do.

My credentials: my birth in Portland, Maine, a mere 1,594 miles from Nuuk, the capital of G-land, if there were airline flights between those two metropolises, which there are not.

To compare, Copenhagen, Denmark is 2,200 miles from Nuuk. So I’m a lot closer to being a homeboy than whoever the melancholy Dane currently running the place now is.

Political experience, you ask? I served two terms on the Wellesley Town Meeting. Most historians now agree that my benevolent reign represented a golden age of peace and prosperity for Precinct F.

Once I accept the appointment from my neighbor, President Trump, I will begin assembling a staff to implement my visionary plans.

My first hire will be of an aide de camp, which is French for “bagman.”

It will of course be a nationwide search, with a single caveat: No cops need apply. As Sonny McDonough observed so long ago, aspiring statesman should never employ a cop as a bagman, er, aide de camp.

“Cops think everything they get belongs to them,” Sonny used to muse. “I hate it when a cop gives me $300, because I never know if he stole $200 or $700.”

Greenland will be part of America, and I used to live in Somerville when it was known as “the All-American City.” Thus, I will be instituting an enlightened Somerville system of government.

I once asked one of Somerville’s town fathers, Rep. Vinny Piro, about a certain, uh, reform he was instituting.

“Howie,” he replied, “this thing is so bleepin’ legit it’s ridiculous.”

That will be Governor-General Carr’s motto for Greenland: “So bleepin’ legit it’s ridiculous.”

Greenland is full of precious metals. We’ll have to issue some mining licenses. You know, the way Hillary Clinton did with the Russians when she was secretary of state, handing them 20% of the U.S. uranium supply.

Shortly thereafter, the Reds contributed $20 million to the Clinton Foundation.

That wasn’t that bad, considering. But again, I draw on the historical precedents. All wise leaders do.

When Julius Ansell, whose heart belonged to Ward 14, was elected to the state Senate back in 1964, he made an announcement at his victory party on Blue Hill Ave. He pointed out his prior accomplishments as a state rep and before that city councilor.

“Tonight,” Ansell exclaimed, “I have been elected to the state Senate. That means the price is going up!”

In the States, the public-bidding process involves RFP’s — Requests for Proposals. In Nuuk, my trusted aide de camp will be soliciting a different sort of RFP — Requests for Payoffs.

My radio listeners are already looking for hack jobs. On Friday one requested an appointment to the Greenland Cannabis Commission. He wants to get in his three highest years, or as they say in the Arctic Circle, his three highest Ice Ages.

Another texted me: “Will you be running a low-digit license plate lottery in Greenland like you used to in the old days, and if so, how much?”

First of all, when I controlled that racket, I mean lottery, it was so bleepin’ legit it was ridiculous.

Second, Greenland’s only got about 56,000 residents, and I’m told most of them get around on dog sleds. Chances are, a lot of those tasteful four-digit plates I used to hand out have never even been issued.

In other words, the upside profit potential on license plates in Greenland is negligible. Low-digit plates are a First World grift. But this is why the noble savages in Greenland need Americans like ourselves to come in to “grow” the economy, especially our economy.

People ask, what about the natives? Don’t they consider themselves, you know, oppressed? What are you going to do for them, Governor-General Carr?

One word: casinos. Next question?

MGGA — Make Greenland Great Again!

In closing I appreciate everyone coming out today for this official announcement. I know how cold it is — it’s so cold I even saw a couple of Democrats here this morning with their hands in their own pockets.

To paraphrase an old saying, Next year in Nuuk. And just remember one thing.

The price is going up!

Order Howie’s new book, “Mass Corruption, Vol. 1: The Cops” at amazon.com or howiecarrshow.com/store.