It came as no surprise to anyone – including probably Charlie himself – that, for the umpteenth time, Charles Manson, now 77, was turned down by the parole board and will remain in jail. We all know that Charlie is going to die in the joint and never see the free light of day. He’s still too potent a symbol in the leftover pop mythology of the 20th century, and for the world of 1969, Charlie Manson was the incarnation of the dark and dangerous side of The Force. And yet I can’t help having a wry fondness for Ol’ Charlie. With his posse of supposed zombie-girl psychedelic killer thralls (and Tex Watson) he taught the squares that hippies weren’t all pacifist pushovers, fair game for any hate-warped redneck with a ball bat and a bad attitude. He also taught the hippies that just taking a bunch of acid didn’t make you the Holy Mahatma. Charlie played his role and hocked his soul in the process. (Or was the Process.)
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