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The vast faction of North American kitsch lovers have adored its image for decades. As a young buck, I remember my folks’ nauseated reaction to the sighting of one during many a subdevelopment egress. The image of which i speak is none other than the North American Yard Flamingo. Long associated with finer aspects of living such as Trailer Life, Automobile Racing, Domestic Violence, and Clocking-in Late, the pink flamingo is now a nationally recognized beacon of hope, humility, and tolerance.
So to make a short story longer than the Koran, I’d like to fill you in on one of the most spectacular sightings of this fabled lawnbird yet to date.
My good friend Paul, winner of the Little Nero’s Nightclub Summer of ’99 Hot Buns contest in South Lake Tahoe, California, just sent me an amazing photo. While visiting him in PA just before Kwaanza past, I gave to him as a gift, a page out of my sketchbook. It was a page containing visual commentary on the state of our country, philosophical pondering, and ideas for a brighter tomorrow. Paul, needless to say, was thrilled to be enlightened with this page of hope. Paul is also the kind of fellow that loosely clutches the untied shoestring of conventional society’s worn-out sneaker. Not one to subscribe to any such notion of patriotism or bandwagoning, Paul is a true outlier. In a country filled with Cube Lords proclaiming their individuality via Life Is Good t-shirts, Paul is pulling fire alarms in a shirt that says simply, “Fuck You.”
Today’s optimistic evidence of a lingering free-thinking, empire-eschewing demographic came in the form of a sketch of mine. An image included in the aforementioned page of hope reared its head again, though in a different and bolder medium. Not to impart an ego-soaked update upon you, loyal DC readers, I just can’t help but bask in the genius that is Paul Naugle, and his loyalty to my propaganda.
High Life and Hot Dogs,
Hawk
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Fuckin’ Hot.
who is this Paul you speak of, and will he teach me?
Not only a pink flamingo, but one with a mullet AND on the forearm to boot.
Gawd-damn. Now I know what my uncle meant when he always said “You gotta either fish or cut bait.”
Paul is the road manager, bus driver, and chef of snakehawk enter-prizes. That flamingo is wearing some Blades, enjoying a filterless cigarette.
When I meet him, I will be sure that he buys no beer that night…
Inkpay Amingosflay…the filthiest people alive. I love it.
Fuck yea hawk man.
I now live life through a trusted yet free spirited body, this known as The Paul.
If you see The Paul, tell him to have a splendid day.
Namaste
is ther any connection between this so called paul naugle and the end scene in jon water’s pink flamingos…u know where they eat the cop.?