kenny powers tattoo

You like baseball, right? Well how do you feel about things tangentially related to baseball? It’s Friday, you love stuff like this!

First, there is this Kenny Powers tattoo which made its way around Tumblr (coming to me via Pitchers and Poets) today. Credit to Laughing Buddha Tattoo in Seattle for creating this masterpiece. Remember this show/guy? He was a baseball player and used frequent profanity. Good times.

Next comes something from Getting Blanked’s own Riley Breckenridge of Productive Outs – Puig Destroyer. Pig Destroyer was/is a grindcore band of some acclaim who play fast, offensive metal with insane blast beats.

Puig Destroyer plays fast, aggresive grindcore…about baseball, and Yusiel Puig specifically. Featuring Rily and Ian (the other half of Productive Outs who also plays in the great SF band Kowloon Walled City), Jon (from KWC), and Mike (formerly of Curl Up and Die), Puig Destroyer is amazing. That’s it. The song they posted today is perfect, as I’m sure the rest of the songs of this fun EP will be. Go buy a shirt.

Comments (3)

  1. This post dominates any Google search for “Puig Destroyer.” For what it’s worth, well done.

  2. I’m Kenny Fucking Powers! Fuck you!

  3. “Jennifer wrestled her friend playfully to the ground infront of the snowcone stand and began licking at the girls eyeballs, as if they were sugar cubes. Their bodies convulsed and flailed with an almost seizure like intensity. At times their pale limbs seeming to shift back and forth from one torso to the other. A crowd gathered almost immediately to watch these two girls tie and untie their bodies like a pair of pit-vipers. They were confused, or concerned, or shocked, or aroused, or all of the above. But no-one dared interfere with the performance. Jennifer’s long ashen hair hung down concealing the girls face like a curtain around a hospital bed. No one had any idea that the girls eyes were revolving under her ruby
    tongue. ‘This is disgusting, it’s pornography’ exclaimed a pasty slut white woman in a fur coat, vanilla ice-cream smeared across her double chin like a money shot. Counting a balding professor type in his mid-forties, his left hand stuffed crassly down the front of his pants ‘No, no, no. This is beautiful, this is art.’”

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