Tanner Ainge. Utah County Commissioner.
In a recent press release, it was stated that Tanner Ainge was "born inside a bottle of Log Cabin Syrup." Naturally enough, this is not true. What his then press secretary (who now sells freeze dried chives on street corners for a living) meant was that Ainge, a true-blue back of beyond denizen of the forest and mountains, saw the light of day in a log cabin. Whether or not he was raised on flapjacks doused in the Log Cabin brand of syrup is something that he has chosen not to reveal to the public at this time. And which he may never reveal; there are some things so soi-disant in government circles that their discussion is moot (or perhaps hoot -- I get the two words mixed up all the time; as a child I used to draw crayon renditions of 'moot' owls, which my parents taped onto the refrigerator door -- not their own fridge, but that of people they were feuding with.)
Be that as it may, Ainge can drop a marmoset at fifty paces with a black powder blunderbuss and skin an elk in less time than it takes to whistle Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Skilled in applying corncob jelly to superficial flesh wounds, he is in great demand as both an herbalist and bladder wort imitator. He's just a riot at quinceanera parties.
His stellar work as a Utah County Commissioner has been noticed in such faraway places as Quintana Roo and along the Kra Isthmus. His recent bill to tax hummingbirds caused the Parliament of Great Britain to declare a national holiday.
His hobbies include refurbishing used breath mints and reading between the lines.
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