Flamingos

I have long adored pink flamingos. There is something about them that is, well, tacky - but tacky in a good way, if there is such a thing. I maintain that if I display a pink flamingo in my yard knowing that it is tacky, then it is more kitschy than tacky. When a pink flamingo is intended to be art, then it is tacky. We purchased our current flamingo several years ago at the Cotton Pickin' Fair in Gay, Georgia. Truman is constructed out of recycled propane tank parts:

My fondness for pink flamingos is fairly widely known among our friends and family. Last week in honor of our 15th wedding anniversary, we were flamingoed by our friends Mike and Kelly:

How can you help but smile when you have a flock of pink flamingos on your lawn? And I think Truman rather enjoyed the company:

The flock of flamingos had to continue their migration, but another flamingo joined us this week. James' parents came to visit for a few days and brought with them an early birthday present for me:

And he's not just a flamingo, but a PIRATE flamingo, complete with a hook and an eye patch:

He is so freakin' tacky that he is awesome. He needs a name, so if anyone can think of a good name for a pirate flamingo, let me know.