I’m not easily amazed, but I’m amazed that there isn't an organized recreational activity known as flamingo plucking. (Challenge: get really realy drunk and say “flamingo plucking” ten times real fast.)
Because we live in a world where there are flamingos. And what unique and beautiful birds they are. Just look at that vibrant pink plumage. And it follows that whenever and wherever such unique and beautiful creatures exist, there are also exist some human creatures who feel compelled to fuck with them. It’s like this dumbass boy I once saw taunting a goose. The kid was at that age where you get a big testosterone rush out of doing stupid bully shit like taunting a goose. The goose was waddling along on the grass just minding its own damn business, followed by smaller geese. And the kid gets all up in the goose’s face and goes “HWONK!” The goose looked pissed. It went “HWONK” right back at the kid. And it was a big goose, about the same size as the kid. But the kid kept at it. “HWOOOONK! HWOOOOOOOOONK!” It was one of those moments we all have in life when we say to ourselves, “Where the hell are that kid’s parents?” The kid was lucky that the goose had more sense than he did and didn’t bite his fucking face off.
So it follows that since there are flamingos, there must also be flamingo pluckers. It's the kind of thing that could become all the rage on college campuses. The most likely candidates would be drunken frat boys on campuses in areas where flamingos are indigenous. In order to be accepted into the brotherhood, you must bring back to the house a genuine pink feather which you personally plucked from a live flamingo. And you must pluck the flamingo while naked. And so the young pledges sneak out to the swamp (or scale the fence of the zoo after hours). They creep up behind an unsuspecting flamingo, strip naked and whirl a lasso.
Other likely candidates for becoming flamingo pluckers would be the regular customers of eateries that have those gluttonous food challenges. Eat 12 pizzas in 20 minutes and you get a free t-shirt that says I’m a disgusting pig and your picture goes up on the prestigious Wall of Idiots. So it seems inevitable that by now one of those eateries in an area where there are lots of flamingos would offer a comparable bounty for every successfully plucked flamingo feather.
The reason why I know there must not be any of this sort of organized flamingo plucking going on is because I’ve met lots of cripples who became crippled in lots of bizarre ways, but I’ve never met anyone who was maimed by an irate flamingo. If there were any cripples like that out there, surely I would’ve met one by now. And if flamingo plucking was going on, there would be cripples like that out there for sure. They would be missing a least one eye and probably assorted other limbs and or digits. And they would serve the community by lecturing middle schoolers on the dangers of flamingo plucking. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, boys and girls. If someone tries to pressure you into going flamingo plucking, just say no.”