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Sam Hinkie is very much alive

Sam Hinkie did not die for our sins. He was punished for our inability to handle his unadulterated genius. The sort that makes Neil deGrasse Tyson weep in a corner, as he realizes he’s seven genius-steps behind the former Philadelphia 76ers general manger.

Really, if brilliance were a TV network, Hinkie’s version of it would be Cinemax After Dark. You know, if those movies starred A-listers like George Clooney, Christina Ricci and Charlize Theron instead of whoever stars in those movies now.

And, yes, maybe I’ve watched those movies in my past, but the hell if I can name a singular actor or actress from any of the Emmanuelle in Space epics.

Luckily, Sam Hinkie did not die at all. He was only fired. How do we know this? Well, I am glad you asked…

That right there is Samuel William Wallace Hinkie (real name, I swear it) in the digital flesh. His first tweet since leaving Philadelphia.

He would go on to discuss backpacking around the world, learning, snowboarding and crowd-sourcing all of the mean streets of Twitter for good reading material.

Of course he’s a snowboarding manic. It is natural. What Sam Hinkie is to snowboarding is what Jack Kerouac was to the Beat Generation. Everyone knows this. EVERYONE.

Basically, Sammy H. is half-version of your grandmother who just retired and half-version of your hipster friend who inherited his trust fund a few years too early.

And. It. Is. Awesome.

I always pondered what he would be doing in his downtime. Would he be questioning his vision? Did he play NBA 2K over and over and over again, utilizing #TheProcess to see if it would ever work in a simulated life? Was he dancing in a corner bar with a Hinkie-nite (that is a superfan of Hinkie).

But the truth is far more incredible. He sends tweets from Starbucks, is a middle-aged man who is snowboarding in who knows where on the planet and — just like you and me — is too gosh darn lazy to find out for himself what is worth reading, and instead asks all of Twitter to tell him.

I mean, what’s next…is he going to ask who he should plug in at running back for his fantasy football team?

If Hinkie did die for our sins, he has since been reincarnated. As what, I’m not exactly sure. Maybe a god, or an enlightened version of his old self. Not that any of it matters.

The only thing that feels important here is that he is alive. He is breathing. He is tweeting. He is Hinkie.

That he can function in a space which limits a singular soul to thinking in 140 characters or less, yet Sam Hinkie says bleep that, and he will tweet as many tweets as it takes to get his thoughts across.

It is easy to envision his next chapter in life. It is as obvious as it is that his first backpacking trip across the globe was to try to reenact all the Hostel movies. Sam W.W. Hinkie is going to write a memoir, but he won’t go to The Players’ Tribune or some publishing house to get his story out.

No sir or madam. He will use 2.6 million tweets to tell us about his life’s work — and I am here to read every single numerical computer digit thingy forced into letters by way of technology that was pushed by a button via the greatness of Hinkie.

Now if you’ll please excuse me. It is the middle of September 2016. Sam Hinkie has been confirmed as being alive. I must pull my children from school, remove all the monies from my savings account and call my priest to tell him I’m no longer a practicing catholic, as the Nardone family is headed to Palo Alto, California to worship at the church of Samuel William Wallace Hinkieology.

I’ll see you untrustworthy evil-doers in the Upside Down.


Sam Hinkie is very much alive

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