#425: Hamilton’s Pharmacopeia with Hamilton Morris By Sam Tripoli|2021-03-24T03:52:15-08:00February 18, 2021|Tinfoil Hat| Share This Story, Choose Your Platform! FacebookTwitterRedditLinkedInWhatsAppTumblrPinterestVkXingEmail Related Posts 3 Comments Nineball April 22, 2021 at 6:29 pmLog in to Reply This interview is terribly uninteresting, not helpful at all for a seriously interested, reasonably discerning, passively curious, or even passionately devoted personally preferential fans of each individual or any of the shows they operate altogether. To Sam’s credit it’s not his fault with exception to how his name and authoritative creative voice is attached centrally to the program and it’s many years’ cultivated audience. But you know there is a problem when a fan of Sam’s many shows since before as well as after the creation of the phenomenon of a production that is TFH, has to put his personal views aside and ignore the newer voices at the table to be sympathetic to their roles and voices and allow them to feel out what is widely and wildly considered a powerfully driven, politically charged, experientially varied, outcome attached, ego-broiled, massively investable, consumer plus service driven, easily nostalgic, academically novel, industrially promising, chronically both over and underreported, legally and medically innovative, artistically charmed, culturally relevant almost unanimously, sexually exciting, curiously dangerous, ultimately explosive topic of discussion, if it is possible even more leeway must be given because it is so hard to describe in a serviceable and interesting way that addresses simultaneously the scientific, psychological, theatrical, and journalistic aspects in a captivating and original way. Consequently the quality of course suffers further under the duress of the many overly loud voices in this room so focused on their own mediocre experiences and opinions that they talk constantly over the guest, interrupt the host, derail the conversation unapologetically, have no respect for their own media aside from their personal presence within it, and all too often ask singular irrelevant questions and contribute, by some amazing divine force of mediocrity, utterly undignified questions and emptyheaded opinions. Kudos to Sam for showing so much professional and visible personal restraint to keep the savages at bay from a peacefully detached standpoint, even at times sacrificing his own valuable positions to represent Hamilton when nobody else can. It is a miraculous effort of intellectually deficient bastardizations over a raging flame of social insecurities, affluence of nonsense juxtaposed with ineptitude of reason, a concert display of unilateral failure and rejection, catapulted through an ether of homogeneous lack of sophistication – or lack “chemistry” – heated with a criminally negligent attention to detail and excuse for a conversation. Utterly disgusting, distasteful, weak, with all disregard for the whole of humanity, let alone an otherwise hopeful, already sympathetic audience. If you can somehow smear a stain, tear a rip, spoil a mold, or soil the integrity of shit, these two morons gone rogue will engineer the discoveries for which nobody asked. XG is generally very quiet, as most unskilled, uneducated, lazy, weak, incurious, unobservant, logically inconsistent, and all-around consistently failed personality across all boundaries, with a weakly fixed fixated face that spoils milk and a meek do-nothing delivery that makes babies cry. What an utter waste of technological devotion, logistical resources, and dedicated support networks. XG has proven incapable of even the most accomplishments in native lands and languages alike, somehow protected against the rabid bounty that seeks his soul at no potential of reaching untoward in magnitude, as the chronically poor drug addict, like any other practicing religious abuser of substances and citizens alike, always fails to deliver a full price at a deadline given prior. Similarly he always fails to deliver in podcasting and even the simplest of phrases aside, all in parallel with his ability to stretch his time to cast categorically unlimited and indiscriminately futile efforts of delivering your drug of choice. A tainted product with a creamy overoccupancy of the noise floor punctuated only as needed with the most forgettable of explanatory defects and the obligatory laughs at deserving comedy eventually reaches your door three grams under and two hours late. The lack of consideration for this guy to try to learn elementary English as a second language just to pursue American broadcasting as a second job in a second culture goes nearly unrivaled in its intensity and commitment mixed with a downright undeniable failure to demonstrate any level of accountability, concern, social awareness or performance ability in any sector attempted whatsoever. Why show up at all if you’re going to disrespect the host and his platform on this platform, lack the language skills to deliver any advertisment reads and earn your keep for 5-10minutes, and then take a nap the whole time…? Absolutely inexcusable. …At least until I see episodes like this, where all of the sudden the baby boy wakes up to play pretend, LOUDLY, with the rest of them. Now, what ordinarily goes unnoticed is amplified to a violently threatening and vitally terrifying level of anxiety-ridden unintelligible nonsense mixed with the most basic and bland expressions of outdated counterculture in referential perspective and vernacular capacity forced over hot coals and tender irons with the same burning pains as the scalding of liquid metal poured straight down into the eardrum and corroded brain matter implosions, cooking one’s brain under the electric heat of one’s own short-circuiting nervous system junctions priming the victim for the beautiful and forgiving relief that is total organ failure, saving the individual from the psychological torture and madness to ensue from the disorienting groans amidst all hopelessness commiserate with the harmonious pleasures of the misdirected mumblings and monotony of speech dissociated from all affect of pattern deceptive and otherwise promised. Strap yourself in for a bright sunny day in Hell with the blazing and unforgiving mass of collapsing nuclear meltdown scorching the relentlessly prolonged exposure to fully disassembling explosive Power mixed with the heated charges of an electromagnetic current poised directly against the onslaught of gravitational force and quantum friction complete with the pulse of radioactive decay in the heat of a charged particle array… Wow. Satan certainly pulled out the big guns today… Because… The impossible failure turned real that is the Lazily Employed Mexican English Orator and U.S. Broadcaster meets the mad science lab meltdown failure gone full Fucking F-Plus Failure in the form of Johnny Wouldwon’tquit – Nobody’s Favorite, The Speaking Writer, the Wordsmith of ‘Elevated’ Opinions, the Comedian of Serious Culture, the Master of Mediocrity, and professionally… the Illiterate Journalist!!! Johnny is normally quiet too… But sensing a strategic networking opportunity in the school of Journalism that never quite, Johnny picks today to volunteer his hesitation at helpfulness that instantly devolves into massive interruptions, mindless derailments, and a thousand social faux pas the likes of which would inspire any ordinary individual to a fast and smooth suicide. Instead, Johnny lets the door hit him where the good lord split him on his way out, leaving him stranded with an audience that could not thirst for his death more; the colossal pressure of which somehow Johnny escapes by virtue of pure Social Ineptitude and Insecurity, unimaginable ignorance and neverending neglect at the foreground; and try the carefully planned execution of the doubled doubledose of the day’s working plus recreational allotments of the SpEd’s own Chemical Commitment in the form of Adderall IR Tablets and XR Spansule Capsules: to be taken orally fellas!! (Or to pretend to crush and insufflate in the eyes of those cool Hamiltonian guys) – for the dedicated health nut and aspiring hobbying journalistic ‘intrigue’ artist to pretend to play with friends and flex on family from his manic fantasies of them watching, Johnny exercises his immense executive powers not on himself via punishment qua Capital, but by the recommendations of Psycho Psychiatrics, and Suicidal Therapies Inc., a showering storm of Amphetamine-fueled Anxious Exchanges on top of Mindless Questions and one-lined derailments stop the show, all at the expense and mental health / exhaustion of the only guy nice enough in the industry to give sickbrained career climbing rape artist nobodies like Johnny a try. Johnny learns to spin his so-called stories on his co-workers and exploit his loving fan base for vital attention. But what really gets Johnny’s rocks off is clout-chasing by networking for business opportunities and substituting a social life with an amphetamine sponsored series of ongoing’business meetings’ Nineball April 22, 2021 at 6:35 pmLog in to Reply What a storm of uncultured crimes against humanity and interrupted interruptions… The two weakest personalities compete for the attention of the floor… And as massively unqualified, uninteresting as he is disinterested, and criminally unbecoming as XG is as he corrupts Sam’s personal platform and financial balances plus social capital, nothing is quite as pathetic, aesthetically gutteral oras the ultimate desperation Nineball April 22, 2021 at 7:36 pmLog in to Reply As trivially forgettable and downright in denial as the ultimate guide to adult desperation we see in the tearful eyes and salivary mucosal incontinence of the unforgivable foolery and the zenith of clout gone chased away publicly that is the infantile social awareness and stumbling over stutters evoked by the drug-positive and passionate pursuits of baby John double double… U. His glorious absence of sophistication cooked tenderly across the fires of nervous gas to gas-cook the methane-exhaust fumes of the arrogant nonsense artist as he throws darts at the barnyard door. And misses so many times, he has made himself fully immune to and ignorant of the pains of misery and the familiarly lingering silences spanning across his cowardice personified – because they are so voluminously massive, unendingly vast, infinitely enumerable, impossibly beyond quantifiable, and eternally constant, recurrent and concurrent, much like the concussions and disabilities he undoubtedly suffers from the extra chromosome at birth, the hailstorm hellfire of violence has itself in origins bully-rendered by the dozen at a pace resembling the human pulse, and unquestioningly calcified via the lifetime of neglect: a perfect performance that drops our jaws, to see his valor bestowed upon us masses, put to unconscionable envy as Hamilton produce the parting words, “Wow. Where has the screaming prodigious excellence that is Johnny Woodard been to my life’s inspiring towards aspiring attention to detail… No… Rather aspiring towards Johnny’s attention as he inspires me… Johnny… In front of all these people… Will you please have my phone number, and maybe become my friend? Your awe-inspiring quick-witted questions came at such a beautiful pacing, and polished demeanor that was not contrived or awkward in any way at all. No, Johnny… Will you please make leave from your studio, as I hire you to teach me? Or if the skill cannot be achieved, or learned or inspired, just… Let me pay you to bestow upon me the glory that is your presence and talent and mind, come together in my… Lap!? NO!!! Johnny I was just nervous in gas and at heart! Because the truth is, Johnny… My baby boy… You are just so… Damned… Cool…. And honestly does like cool drugs a lot with those cool friends but you’re the coolest and with more than one lady ever and your family doesn’t regret your incarnate in this world, just… Johnny, baby, you gotta believe me… For real, I actually didn’t want to pay you for your skills and services and wits, nor endless talent, charm, and fortuitous presence… I’m just in love with you my boy, and, will you please let me pay you to marry me while I adorn you with candies, and I publicly worship your career and 18.9ft long penis, plus totally not embarrassing physical stature or performance ability… Please… Johnny… Let’s merge our sexy Journalistic Career Endeavors into one Ultimately powerful, sex God drug cool guy news royal action army merchant funding sword girlfriends having machine plus always introducing us to Sam and your parents and I would never leave you for chinstraps isn’t to watch you make himself strip and present urine to him plus cocaine and conspiracy theory knowledge that sounds better than samples the way you make soil cheekiness media college roommate and what is this wow shoreline omg Theresa conspiracy that you area profile and Johnny is proving ironhide wallace toshiba oof and unhardened analog the girls santeria oliver has done together and having more money than any of your weekly avocado excepted your parents know it isn’t very healthy oops time to unbloodied time now and shit harder than all of the girls same erhard one has wow what amendment almost as ripe as you are in my eyes and then your families and us all under the lord except not you baby you have sex with him while XG dies watching with a torture porno lactating pubes onto his mom’s hot face and eyes butt. Game Over Johnny you are not a total faggot or anything else like that”. Then Johnny accepts the proposal and the emmy awards and food at Denny’s and then his weiner turned bright red, bestowing upon him the nickname: Johnny “TheRedCockRocketCockitandDockIt petalfileslayer mindwrestler cooldrughavingsmartnotuglyguy” 69lolz Woodtard Leave A Comment Cancel replyYou must be logged in to post a comment.