Wednesday, December 19, 2012

People Sicken Me

Unsolicited in the previous comment section St. Circumstance went into a huge tirade about his opinion regarding Barbara Beausoleil's relationship with Bobby.

He thinks that she really had some nerve to fall in love with someone who was in jail for murder.

The self righteousness sickens me.

There is no evidence in the relationship that Barbara sought fame from her marriage. 

There is no evidence that Barbara sought money from the relationship. In fact I know first hand she did no such thing and struggled.

You want to lay into Bobby for being a killer fine.

You want to rip into Bobby for being a liar, go for it.

Barbara was not like Kristen Watson even, exploiting ministries and welfare offices.

She fell in love with who she fell in love with.

People can rip on Woody Allen but he says it best- " The heart wants what the heart wants."

Shame on anyone who has the temerity to criticize someone for falling in love.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Ode to Barbara B

Hello everyone,

This is proof positive that is it possible to have a heart heavy with sadness and one that is filled with joy inside of a single breath.  On October 19th my beloved Barbara Ellen, wife and partner of 31 years, very suddenly and unexpectedly passed from this world.

A shocking event, to say the least.  I’m still reeling.  One day she was happily planting bulbs in the her garden for flowers that will bloom in the spring, and the following morning her lifeless body was found lying on the floor next to her bed.

In a curious example of synchronicity not uncharacteristic in our relationship, I fell out of my bunk onto the floor of my cell, the only time ever in my life that this has happened, at what was very possibly the moment of her passing.  The cause of physical death was subsequently determined to be a cerebral hemorrhage.  It was quick, no prolonged suffering, just the sort of way Barbara would have preferred to go when her time came (may we all be so lucky).  No muss, no fuss, no lingering illness, no significant debts to be a burden to her family.  Just gone.  It’s as though she has been stolen from us, as a dear mutual friend aptly put it.

I miss her physical presence in my life, of course, every time something happens that I want to share with her, at least a dozen times a day, and I have to remind myself again that she is no longer here among us.  We had a 31-year conversation, probing heart and mind, exploring our humanness while aspiring to the higher levels of wisdom.  I will miss that conversation like I will miss her gaze, her touch, her uninhibited laughter, her embrace, her kiss, and even those human foibles and faults that sometimes annoyed and frustrated me.  There was never anything about her that could realistically stand in the way of my love for her.

Ours was a relationship founded on sacred ground, and therefore not subject to threat from something as wholly natural, commonplace, and ultimately trivial as death. We only borrow these bodies to play in this world for a time.  This is why our relationship held together all these years despite some foolish lapses of dignity and the hardship of my incarceration.  But Barbara was so sturdy, I always assumed I would be the one to go first.  I’ve been caught off guard, and now I grapple with unaccustomed depths of emotion, mourning the loss of her, while knowing full well that she is not the least bit lost to herself.

Some of you had the good fortune to know Barbara personally; others of you may have known her at some distance, or only about her.  In any case, I would like to offer the following words of rememberance, written by Barbara’s son John only days after passing:

“Barbara was, and always will be, a shining example of a how a person can live in peace, harmony and freedom.  She gave more than she took, she loved more than she feared, and she nurtured everything and everybody around her.  We will remember Barbara as a woman of strength, courage, compassion and wisdom-a true Mother Goddess incarnate, treading softly yet powerfully upon this Earth”.

So, yes, there are some waves of sadness lingering in the spaces where Barbara once lived, since her passing.  No one needs to worry that they may draw me into some morose stupor, however.  Barbara would have little patience for that sort of thing. Anyway, she would not have left when she did if she had not been sure that I would remain a strength to her children and grandchildren, and I won’t let her down in that regard.  She would not have any of us feel sorry for her, or for ourselves.  Any why should we? Barbara lived on her own terms and died exactly as she would have wanted to.  I salute her for that, and celebrate the wealth of gifts she brought to the world.

In peace,

Wednesday, December 05, 2012

I'm a GANGSTER, Woman

Ya know....

One thing all this speculating drives home is that the Family was NOT ever a hippie commune.  Sure there were some hippie kids there, but there were some hippie kids at my damn high school too.

They weren't hippies.  They hated that moniker. They were "slippies" they said, as they slipped in and out of places.

But what they really were were GANGSTERS.

Hendrickson called his second film INSIDE THE MANSON GANG.  I love the film and hate the title.  But Homey knew these people and he has it right.

Charlie as Vito Corleone or Tony Soprano.  Try that on for size.  It fits.  He has his henchmen, from Clem on down to Nancy.  He has his Fredo, Sadie.  Paulie Walnuts, the bug fuck killer is Tex.  It's all there.

If you are working for the gang, making money, all is good.  If you cross them, pow!

The analogy works.  Lotsapoppa crosses the gang and Bang, LotsaLeadBelly.  Gary doesn't deliver and he's cut and killed.

Just watch the two brilliant Hendrickson films.  "Snitches will be taken care of."   " You've got to love it (rifle) and make love to it."

It's not mind control.  It's not a family. It's a gang.

I mean, what did Mary, Squeaky, Nancy, Gypsy and the other bitches end up doing?  They became gun molls for Biker Gangs and other gangs after the original gang ended.

We have to examine this not as flower kids gone wrong, a commune, or a  one time occurrence.  It's a fucking gang executing gang justice.

Monday, December 03, 2012

What If?

I always liked the Marvel Comic Book WHAT IF?

It played with ideas within the Marvel Universe, speculating What If so and so had lived and changed the world.  Shit like that.  It was fun.

Now I don't want to play "What If?" as in "What if Steven Parent had lived and become a prominent homosexual activist?" or "What if Sharon Tate became a Porn Star?"

No.  I want to play logical games of "What If?"

Today's Subject-

The conventional wisdom is that Shorty was killed for being a snitch.  Maybe.
The reality is most people don't kill someone for almost no reason.  Now you might say that the Family were not "most people" and you would be correct.  But still....

Under my new thinking-

Beausoleil killed because Hinman won't give up the money he was THOUGHT to have.
Frykowski was killed because the killers THOUGHT there was money or drugs in the house.
LaBiancas were killed because the killers THOUGHT there was money in the house.

Shorty's the last canonical slaying unless you believe the Hughes stuff and I do not.  Clem who was not active at LaBianca joins in.  Davis who drove to Hinman but was relatively inactive joins in.

What if he's killed because they THOUGHT he had something they wanted? Not because he knew something.  Not because he squealed.  Because he HAD something they wanted, or they thought he did.

What would that have been?

Saturday, December 01, 2012

Today Is The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

[The Last Fifteen Months of Hellish Bullshit is DONE]

True Story---

Crime Scene

The body of Mabel Monohan was half in and half out of a closet that the trail of blood led to. Her hands were tied behind her with a strip of bed sheet. A pillowcase was over her head, tied very tightly around the neck with another strip of bed sheet. When the pillowcase was removed, police saw that the frail widow had been beaten viciously about the face and head with a blunt instrument.

"Pistol-whipped, sure as hell," said one veteran detective, who had seen such handiwork before.

The entire house had been ransacked, top to bottom; even a furnace vent in the floor had been torn out. The trail of blood continued throughout the house, as if the victim had been manhandled from room to room, being beaten along the way with increasing fury when the intruder failed to find what he was looking for. Despite this activity, the crime lab would not find a single fingerprint or other physical evidence.

Surprisingly, in a bedroom closet where numerous purses and pieces of luggage had been opened and cast aside, detectives found a shabby old black purse, hanging from a hook that had not been touched. In it was $475 in cash and an estimated $10,000 in miscellaneous jewelry.

Preliminary investigation revealed that the victim's daughter, Iris, had once been married to a Las Vegas gambler named Luther Scherer, and that the Scherers had once occupied the house. When Iris and the gambler divorced, Iris got the house as part of her settlement. Iris later remarried, a wealthy importer named Robert Sowder, and gave the house to her widowed mother when the Sowders went to live in New York.

Investigators also learned that Mabel Monohan and her former son-in-law maintained a close, affectionate relationship that continued even after Iris and Luther divorced. Scherer still had a closet full of suits and personal effects in the house that he used when visiting the area. And once, when Scherer was seriously ill with cirrhosis of the liver, he came home to Mabel and she nursed him back to health, cooking and caring for him so he would not have to hire a stranger.

There were rumors among numerous people that the police interviewed that Luther Scherer even had a safe somewhere in the house, and was believed to leave large amounts of cash there with Mabel for safekeeping.

With that information, police believed they might have found the motive for Mabel Monohan's vicious murder.

The famous murder I talked about in the last blog post was the I WANT TO LIVE case of Barbara Graham.   She and her crime partners were executed for invading the house of someone they had never met and then violently killing them  because they mistakenly thought there was money hidden in the house.

I am sure this shit happens ALL THE TIME.  Criminals are not that smart and the fucking family in many ways were drugged out chimpanzees flinging their own poo.

So....Something happens where Tex and or Charlie, who as per BUG knew Melcher had moved, learn that the new residents (probably Frykowski and Folger since the other two were not there often) have lots of money or drugs in the house.  Doesn't matter that they don't- they think they do.  And any way, maybe they DID have them on August 1 or something and moved them out.  I mean with Folger, Voytek has all the money he needs to buy large quantities of drugs.

So they THINK there are money/drugs.  They want them.  The killers show up on speed.  Everybody loses their shit and people wind up dead.

Based on what Matt at evilliz reported about the LaBiancas and their connection to criminality, wash, rinse, repeat.

I am starting to conclude it is the only thing that makes ANY sense people....