Saturday, August 31, 2013

Willett Distillery on NBC

From http://www.nbcnews.com/travel/craft-distillers-breaking-kentuckys-billion-dollar-bourbon-industry-8C11035874:

The new book “Kentucky Bourbon Country: The Essential Travel Guide,” by Louisville writer Susan Reigler and photographer Pam Spaulding, helps travelers navigate their options. Several small distillery “high points are within striking distance of Louisville,” according to Reigler.

If you only have time to go to one, Willet (in Bardstown) is your best bet. It's so beautiful ... on a hilltop, looking over lovely wooded countryside. You get to talk to someone whose relatives started the distillery. The people involved directly with making the bourbon are the people leading you on the tour. It's very personalized.”


Above: Willett Distillery owner Drew Kulsveen leads a tour in 2012. Kulsveen is James Willett's nephew by his sister Martha.

James was, of course, murdered by Manson Family associates in 1972. An Eviliz reader claimed that James' sister (possibly named Alice?) spent time in protective custody after her brother's death: see here for details.

Also, see here for the Patty's review of Willett Pot Still Reserve from September, 2011.





Sharon's Set Free



Here's one I've never seen before.
Just curious, at 2:25 is that dog Prudence or Saperstein?

--------------------------

Update from someone in the know:
That's Saperstein - the footage is from the Patty Duke house on Summit Ridge. 
The man without a shirt is Hatami, the woman is his girlfriend.








Friday, August 30, 2013

Lulu's thoughts on paper!


For all you Leslie Van Houten fans out there, I have found a one-of-a-kind item on the weird, morbid website murderauction.com.

What I am talking about is a hand-written journal written by Leslie Van Houten when she was in Sybil Brand jail awaiting trial for the LaBianca murders. Here are a few excerpts:

First, there was the carny, Bobby (Beausoleil), wearing a tight striped T-shirt with no sleeves and tight, worn jeans withheavy boots. His face was that of a pretty-boy, yet there was ruggedness. His arms were firm and muscular. He captured my heart at once. The next was a young gypsy woman who carried herself proud and showed in her face that life was an exciting, unplanned game. Her hair was jet-black, long, wavy and wild. It hung about her neck and shoulders as if to say,"Come touch me". Her clothing was a loose muslin tapestry, pants with large tulips and leaves flowing in patterns. They hung loose around her hips and underneath was a tight black leotard which showed off her thin waist and firm, round bosom. Around her head she wore a shawl that matched her pants and put an air of innocence upon her. To me, she seemed so perfect. I wanted to be friendly, but my own negative thoughts of myself prevented too much friendship. Later, as I began to see I also was beautiful, as everyone is, we became closer than close. The third one had frizzy blonde hair that reached to the middle of her back. Her face had a devilish grin on it, almost searching for some mischief. Freckles popped out on her nose and gave her the look of a little girl who was always into something. She wore a short red dress gathered at the top. It was patterned in small white roses and had long sleeves. A tiny tear was in the dress that one suspected was there from her tomboying around. She wore button-up boots that put her in the time of the twenties. Her body was long and lean with tiny little breasts. These two appeared complete opposites yet were the best of friends. To see these people, I first was quite jealous. After all, they were so free and here I was completely miserable. My first idea was to escape from them and that's just what I thought I did. I hurried into my car and drove all the way to Big Sur. My heart was sick, I wanted so much to be free and pretty like they were. I didn't even enjoy Big Sur. I found out you can't escape yourself. On the way home, I kept hoping they had gone. However, I returned, and they were still there. It was almost as though fate had planned it.

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Our magic carpet was a white pick-up with the insignia," Randy Starr and His Stuntmen", with a horse's head on the side. That's just what we were, a wonderful stunt show, bringing fun wherever we ventured. Gypsy and I rode in the back with the cargo. She didn't seem to mind that Bobby wasn't giving her heaps of attention and was moving in on new territory. She would look into my eyes, I would look into hers. Our hands would meet and give gentle little squeezes as if already knowing we were to become each other and experience much together.

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My first sight of the family was at night, up in the creek a ways at the Spahn Ranch. Everyone was living in a tent and a green school bus that had been pulled up off the road. Every member looked so colorful, they all were smiling at me, and when I approached the fire, made room for me to sit. It was a strange feeling to see them all sharing their food and listening to each other tell secrets about themselves most people would have been ashamed to ever reveal ... the hang-ups they had, things they'd done, and incidents that used to upset them. As one would tell of a situation, others would listen, then giggle, because each of us had the same ones. It seemed that by doing this, the Family became so much closer. Instead of hiding from one another, we were learning to "show off" for one another. Charlie came to the campfire with a guitar. Everyone sang some beautiful songs. The words seemed to leave a peaceful satisfaction and your mind would be at rest. All the voices sounded in pleasant harmony together, each person choosing his own part to add to the basic tune. As a result of this, the tune became a flowing cycle of continuous free thought. When the music ended, Charlie, Bobby and myself left the others and went to the pick-up. My heart yearned to stay with the Family but Bobby wished to leave … Charlie gave me and Bobby a warm hug before we left. His touch was gentle. The love put forth in that hug I can still recall.

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We asked where the others were and he replied, "In a bus that broke down in some prune field." Off we went searching again and, at last, after cruising many prune fields, we found the bus. When I passed through the front door of the bus I entered an Arabian tent with one long bed covered with satin sheets and tapestries hanging from the roof. Bobby and Paul left with some money and when they came back, they had boxes and boxes of zoo-zoos. All the girls were dressed so special, in patchwork dresses, shorts that showed off their pretty tanned legs, crazy hats and loose satin pants. Everyone was glad to see me again and I was really happy to see them. Everyone looked so familiar, as though Ihad always been with them and always would be. I decided I was going to stay and return to the ranch with the others and whatever Bobby did was his business. Naturally, I was really hoping He'd come but the next day, Bobby left. I was a little nervous, for now, I was left alone with the Family and I knew I had changes to go through. The girls did everything together ... We would cook together, sew together, sing together and play together. While we would do these things, we would become different people. Perhaps, one day we were short-order cooks in a small cafe or we were maidens cleaning the Royal Palace. Our only limitation was our imagination.

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The whole effect of the living room was that of an Arabian tent. The sitar, tabura and tablas also added to the setting. Outside this "tent" was a completely different world. There were two bedrooms, one was set down further than the rest of the house, it was nothing but one big mattress. We would jump into the room and roll around and do tumbling. This is where most of us slept ... I say most of us because generally there would be someone who didn't want to sleep with everybody, mainly due to the fact that they were new to the Family. Actually it's lots of fun to sleep with lots of people and make love in large numbers, too. For these new people, the other bedroom was made into a "shy room". It had one bed and a large window that you could see the mountains and creek from. There is a group of trees outside the window that I used to sit and marvel at ... so beautiful, real and proud. Pastel curtains and lots of lace were around the window. The main function of this room was to hold our clothes. We seemed to have gathered clothes from every era in every size. There were patchwork farm dresses, Prince's shirts and satin pants, full length gowns, court jester's shirts, meditation robes, baggy jeans, T-shirts, cowboy shirts, "straight" clothes for the "straight world", hats, tights, scarves and oodles of other goodies. You could go into that room and trip for a long time on who or what you wanted to be that day.

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After a week or two, the bus returned to the ranch in running order. The inside had been tattered and torn, so it was time to fix it over. We built a platform about two feet high under which we could put supplies. Then we placed about four King-sized mattresses on the platform. We laid a beautiful Ivory-cream colored carpet with big pink roses worked into the corners on the front floor. A gold tapestry was draped on the roof and a black tapestry with red roses on the sides. The bed area had red satin curtains that opened and closed as a divider when it was necessary, and the back door was covered with a light blue-green silk that had black fringe dangling over it. The bed was made with black and purple satin sheets and covered with a patchwork guilt we had been sewing on by hand. Everything we ever do is done by hand and with all the love we've got. The fingers on our hands are nimble enough to create the most delicate works of the imagination. Wiggle your fingers and relax the stiffness, then watch them perform beautiful dances before your eyes.

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The freer you let yourself become, and do what you want, your mere existence becomes a crazy, fun game in which nothing matters. When there are no plans, everything runs perfectly and you find yourself in the craziest situations... on a mountain, with ten people holding a jeep from falling over a cliff ... making a rock road in the middle of the vast desert starting nowhere, stopping nowhere ... eating a banana split big enough for twenty people ... living in a house that looks like an Arabian tent ... driving a three wheeled Harley through the middle of town in the pouring rain ... sleeping in an underground shelter ... having an orgy with lots of naked bodies loaded on acid ... being a midwife to a beautiful new life ... welding dune buggies that are mobile beds ... being a go-go dancer, a biker and a ranch cook all at once ...

and, believe me, those are just a few.





Thursday, August 29, 2013

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEB!!!!







Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Follow up on Filippo Tenerelli

I have done quite a bit of research on Filippo Tenerelli since Eviliz's last post on him which was contributed by Ole JC.  http://www.mansonblog.com/2013/08/fillipo-tenerelli.html. I didn't go solo with my research either but had input from Patty, Ole JC, Trilby and a few comments that were made by our readers. 

The issue for me was to try to determine whether or not Filippo was indeed a Gypsy Joker and I now have that answer.  I certainly have not found all the answers to the questions surrounding Filippo but have learned a bit more about him.   There was a bonus, too, another bit of ES/BS came to light, read on!

One of the first things I did was to send for Filippo's death certificate.  From this I learned that he was 23 years old when he died, his birthday was November 4, 1945.  He lived in Culver City with his parents at the same address which is on his naturalization papers.  He was born in Italy and had been in the US for 10 years.  His parents were Giovanni and Caterina Tenerelli both of whom were born in Italy.

He was a tool and die maker who had held that job for three years at a place named Randall Company.  The company made airplane parts.


The address of the motel where Filippo died was 636 N. Main St. Bishop CA.  Upon looking up the address on Google maps I found  there is now a Holiday Inn at that address.  So I searched for and found a vintage postcard with a picture of the motel that used to be in that spot.  The postcard is from 1959 but I suspect that 10 years later when Filippo checked in it was much the same as on the postcard.



Next I started reading what others had written online about Filippo.  Most was the same everywhere but there was a post by someone at Cats' that said Filippo was a Gypsy Joker with the name of Dago.  Cats replied to the poster that Sanders mentions a Gypsy Joker named Dago in the first edition of his book, in the chapter that Sanders wrote about The Process that was removed in subsequent editions.  I checked and Sanders did mention Dago, page 115 if you have that edition.  Those posts are here- http://truthontatelabianca.com/threads/case-reopened.1270/page-5

Trilby told me about a new book out by Meg and Phil Cross who founded the San Jose chapter of the Gypsy Jokers.  The book is called "Phil Cross: Gypsy Joker to a Hells Angel".  Phil was the club photographer, among other things, and the book has dozens of pictures.  And bless Phil Cross, there is a picture of Dago!  He is the one sitting on the bike in the picture.  (If this is a subject that interests you, I definitely recommend the book.   http://www.motorbooks.com/books/Phil-Cross-Gypsy-Joker-to-a-Hells-Angel/9780760343722  )


Phil did not date the picture of Dago so off to find a history of the bar, Chateau Liberte, where the picture was taken and I found that here- https://scruzwiki.org/Chateau_Libert%C3%A9  This bar has a very interesting history involving the rock musicians that played and recorded there.

The bar had a couple of "Chateau" names before it was known as Chateau Liberte and became a biker bar.  It did not have that name until 1971.  So, since Filippo died in 1969 he could not have been Dago who was the Gypsy Joker.  This journey was a bit of a rabbit hole, but it was a fun rabbit hole and it is probably just as important to verify and document the misinformation as it is to verify and document the  truth.

To learn with absolute certainty if Filippo was or was not a Gypsy Joker, regardless of a nickname, I decided to contact Phil Cross.  Phil sent me a reply which should put this to rest.... forever.
Hi Deborah,

I'm glad you enjoyed the book.

In answer to your question, Dago's name was Donald Ragante, and there was no Gypsy Joker named Filippo Tenerelli.

I have no problem with you posting my photo of Dago at the Chateau.

One other thing you might post is that Ed Sanders statement that the Gypsy Jokers were "heavily into the occult" is complete bullshit.  We could have cared less about any of that shit.  We rode, partied and fought, and that's what we lived for.

Best,

Phil Cross






Tuesday, August 27, 2013

President Ford Assassination Attempt Video Tape Released

The Eastern District Federal Historic Society petitioned for and received a tape made of President Ford giving a deposition about Squeaky Fromme's attempt on his life.  Portions of the tape were played at her trial and then stashed away.  The tapes were sought by the society which is dedicated to preserving the history of the Sacramento Federal Court to be able to share with the public.

Read about it here- http://www.sacbee.com/news/local/history/article2596754.html

There are also links to vintage articles written by the Sacramento Bee about the incident and a couple of pdf's on President Ford's diary at the above link.













Charlie's Bread Truck?

I was watching one of those videos of the girls singing while sitting on the corner. When the camera pans out in one scene, there is a bread truck parked by where they are sitting. I know there was a van there for them to sleep in, etc.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNv7NopYFUg

I was wondering if this is the bread truck that Charlie was driving with Stephanie Schram when they went down to San Diego. I'm not sure what year the van was. Can anybody shed light?





Monday, August 26, 2013

Charles Manson and Lt. Calley


This article was written by Stew Albert who was a political activist and major player in the New Left movement.  Albert along with Jerry Ruben and Abbie Hoffman founded the Youth International Party,  better known as the Yippies.   Throwing money off the balcony at the New York Stock Exchange and the Exorcism of the Pentagon were just two of the political statements that he made in the heyday of the '60's.

Army Lt. Calley was charged with murdering 102 Vietnamese men, women and children in the My Lai Massacre.  Calley had a military trial which began Nov. 17, 1970.  On March 30, 1971 newspaper headlines told of both the Manson jury voting for the death penalty and Lt. Calley being found guilty of the charges against him.

Good Times April 2, 1971, a San Francisco underground newspaper.  Vol. IV No. 13

LIFE AND DEATH

Charlie Manson is going to get locked up in the cyanide machine.  The patriots will drop a tablet and see Charlie choke.

How can the armies of technological blood judge a killer?

Lt. Calley is just an invention of a Henry Kissinger concept.

Lt. Calley is just some dust blown by Richard Nixon's ambition.

Charlie spent most of his life in jail because prosecutors suspected there was retribution in his eyes.  In the can he learned the incantations of revenge-- the white man must die/all women are bitches. 

It happens because from the small window in the hole all the tyrants are white and if you can't gently be near a woman for the next twenty years-- chauvinism and hatred seem to be a practical solution,

Lt. Calley's draft board quit in protest at his conviction.  If we can't in good conscience strip a young man of his humanity because once we take his soul a court marshal might still insist he be slightly moral, we will let young men of Georgia stay on their farms because the profession of robotry has lost its integrity.

"How the hell can you tell a gook from a Cong because our orders were to search and destroy everything." 

Charlie walked around Haight St. clearly a white man but his all black draft board was meeting in San Quentin and the order of the day was-- burn Amerika.  I guess Charles Manson is a flower killer.  Someone who read the I-Ching in a way of which our middle class background would never permit.

Lt. Calley is only 5ft 3 but he stretched real hard for an Amerikan medal.  He could never be a good athlete and what blond blue eyed cheer leader would bolster the prepubescent ego of a pimply runt?  But any Amerikan has the opportunity to make glory with a machine gun.

"No Amerikan GI was ever convicted of war crimes in Sega Magazine, why should Lt. Calley be an exception," screamed the defense lawyer.

Charlie Manson would never fight in whitey's war.  In jail the blacks taught him all you need to hate power elites, military industrial complexes, monopolies and jive assed liberals.

A prisoner's hatred is just a love song speeded up on wardens gramophones and made incomprehensible even to the prisoner.

Lt. Calley was taught that the enemy was dialectical materialism.  It wasn't human beings Amerika was killing in those jungles, it was bad ideas.

"Today 5 Amerikans-- 15 Vietnamese and 35 thousand Communists were killed."  They teach these John Wayne fans that it's some sort of morality play, with our enemies being absolutely so evil that they make the Sunday school devil seem reformable.  We used to hang witches now we burn Communists in Napalm-- it's in the service of white painted churches and small stores, so don't talk to Lt. Calley about genocide, he was too short to know what was going on.

Charlie Manson had no illusions about his jury, the Chicago 7 had its daydreams, they were going to protect western civilization, the family and Christianity in general from a man and his family who wanted to start a race war.

Do they want to poison Charlie's lungs because he has long hair, drops acid and runs a harem (a prisoner's hatred is a love song that even he doesn't hear) or because he believes in the moral superiority of the black race, which has had Lt. Calley on its street corner ever since this nation was founded?

For at least one week I don't want to hear pious holy bemoanings of Charles Manson's nihilism from refined phd candidates (who in good conscience could march for Caryl Chessman because he told them he never raped anyone) because Lt. Calley was never a guard outside your cell and how can you feel superior to these two orphans, to whom you denied both your love and your wealth,  and yet thought you were their father?





Saturday, August 24, 2013

Jimmy Page Unearths Soundtrack Album

From RFoster1:

Just discovered this today, although it’s been out for a year now. Apparently Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin had recorded some tracks for the Kenneth Anger film, Lucifer Rising. To refresh your memory, that was the film that Bobby Beausoleil had been involved with. Don’t know how much you all were into Zeppelin, but Jimmy Page was into the occult, the “dark arts” and such back in the day. Who knows if he still is, or not. Anyway, this was news to me, so it might be news to some of you too.

Jimmy Page Unearths Soundtrack Album Guitarist releasing avant garde early Seventies instrumentals Jimmy Page's avant garde soundtrack music from the early Seventies will finally be released on March 20th. Lucifer Rising and Other Sound Tracks will collect several compositions that were recorded at the Led Zeppelin guitarist's home studio, including the title piece, which was intended for use in Kenneth Anger's short film Lucifer Rising. The music never made it into the picture, but Page did make a cameo in the film.
Page will release the record exclusively through his website. An LP edition will be issued on heavyweight vinyl, and a special run of numbered copies will be released as well. The first 93 copies of that set will be autographed by Page.
The track listing for Lucifer Rising and Other Sound Tracks is as follows:
Side One
"Lucifer Rising – Main Track"
Side Two
"Incubus"
"Damask"
"Unharmonics"
"Damask – Ambient"
"Lucifer Rising – Percussive Return"

Original Rolling Stone article HERE






Friday, August 23, 2013

Spahn pic right after the Clampitt fire in September, 1970

I recently found this snapshot of the Spahn Ranch buildings immediately after they burned as the result of a wildfire. This got me curious about wildfires...

The Ranch buildings burned in September of 1970 in a fire known as the Clampitt Fire. The fire burned a large area extending along the Simi Hills from northeast of upper Las Virgenes Canyon through Rocketdyne to Black Canyon. Here is a topo map of the 1970 Topanga fires.

If you are a geek about wildfires, or Santa Susana State Park (of which the Spahn property is now a part of) there is a scientific report on the subject HERE (PDF).

Spahn after the September, 1970 Clampitt fire

Spahn before the fire

Today, from the same general vantage point






Thursday, August 22, 2013

Debra's Chest

Patty is not sure how she missed this one. For the 40th anniversary of the murders, Debra Tate did a piece with Inside Edition and an exhibit with artist Jeremy Corbell whereby she had a Sharon lookalike model some of Sharon's clothing. Have you ever seen these?

Were all of the above meant to be dresses, or is "Sharon" running around bottomless in some of them? Here is the art exhibit that was held in Culver City. Apparently, Steve Urkel was
in attendance. See him?









Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Was it all in the stars?

Scanlan's was a short lived monthly magazine that leaned left of Left.  Only eight issues were ever published, between March 1970 and January 1971.  The magazine was investigated by the FBI and came under the ire of the Nixon administration.  It was essentially put out of business by the muckraking Right. The editors were Warren Hinkle III and Sidney E Zion.

The August 1970 cover was an R Crumb cartoon with a mention of Charlie Manson.


Inside is "An Astrological Portrait of Charles Manson"  done by "Gavin" Chester Arthur.  Certainly astrology was apropos of the times and no surprise that someone should do Charlie's chart.  I found this particular assessment to be quite interesting, offering mystical insight to why Charlie was the way he was.

Just as interesting was the man who did the chart.  Gavin Chester Arthur, born Chester Alan Arthur III, 1901 in Colorado was the grandson of President Chester Arthur.   In the 1920's Gavin eschewed his college education at Columbia to go off and become involved in the Irish Republican Movement of the 1920's.  In the early 1930's Gavin migrated to California and founded a commune at the Oceano Dunes near San Luis Obispo.  In 1934 he joined the Utopian Society of America. 

At the outbreak of WWII in 1941 Gavin signed up with the Navy.  After the war he moved to New York for a time but was back in California by 1949.  During the 1950's he held various jobs, a teacher at San Quentin, a merchant marine, gold prospector and he also completed his bachelors degree at San Francisco State College.  He was heavily involved in San Francisco's Beat movement. He had been married and divorced twice by this time but was also an unabashed bisexual.  He was a forerunner in the gay rights movement.


In the '50's he became interested in astrology becoming a professional astrologer in the early '60's. By 1966 he published "The Circle of Sex", a book having to do with sexual behavior categorized on a wheel like in astrology.   Gavin, with his astrology knowledge, was asked by the staff of the Oracle to select a date for San Francisco's Human Be-in.  That date turned out to be January 14 1967, a scant two months before Charlie was released from Terminal Island Federal Prison.

Gavin Chester Arthur died at Ft. Miley Veteran's Hospital in San Francisco in 1972.

Here is his assessment of how the stars ruled Charlie.









Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Over The Hill And Through The Woods To Spahn's Ranch we go!

My dearest readers, an opportunity of a lifetime has arisen from the greater depths of Los Angeles real estate! How would you like to be in the vicinity of the old Spahn's Movie Ranch? Spahn's is practically in the back yard (well, over a giant, rocky hill, that is) of this gorgeous, one-of-a-kind place. This property can be YOURS for only a measly sum of a cool $1,995,000!! The property's back yard is actually across the railroad tracks from Shorty Shea's old burial site. Just think of all the exploring you could do, if you were to purchase this beautiful place. Hell, if I didn't live in an-already beautiful place (Austin), I would leap at the chance to own this! Well, that, and if I had an extra million in the bank. The actual address of this groovy, little "ranchette" is at 11001 Farralone Avenue in Chatsworth. (Do NOT bother the realtor, unless, of course, you have the money.) As I already stated, Spahn's Ranch is right over the hill in the back of the place. Eviliz team ASSEMBLE! Let us all put our money together, buy this joint, and make our own commune! Just kidding.
Enjoy some photos:










Monday, August 19, 2013

Book Report: MANSON - The Life and Times of Charles Manson, by Jeff Guinn

First, let me lead in with this: This book was not written for us. Manson aficionados will read this book cover to cover and learn little they didn't already know. I learned little. I was also amused by a few errors that I found - however they were minor. For instance Guinn states that Joel Pugh was the father of Sandra Good's son. There were others, but you get my drift. I was also concerned that he stated as fact that Manson went to Cielo drive murder scene in the we hours of August 9, post crimes. This has never been substantiated.

But there were some positive things. For instance, he went into much more detail than any author so far into Manson's childhood. I enjoyed this part of the book. He connected the various stages of his early life in places like Moundsville and McMechen, WV. Guinn clarified for me the personalities and situations of his relatives - particularly his mother,  Aunt Glenna and cousin Jo Ann. Charlie was clearly already violent and incorrigible with his mother serving time locally for armed robbery. He had me feeling sorry for these people who were flawed but were trying to do the right thing.

Another positive for me was the picture Guinn painted regarding Manson's prison "education". He highlights that Charlie read Dale Carnegie's self-help book How To Win Friends and Influence People. Manson clearly internalized this book and course. Manson took this knowledge to San Francisco in 1967, where he used Carnegie's methods on young girls who were down on their luck and desperately searching for something.

I also thought Guinn did a nice job describing what Manson MAY have been thinking and feeling as the Spring and Summer of 1969 advanced. He describes in nice detail the stressful chain of events that  Manson banked on going his way in hopes for the career in music he needed to afford to keep his cult Family together. There was Kaufman, Jacobson, Dennis Wilson and ultimately Terry Melcher. When Melcher passed on him, his hopes of becoming a star were extinguished. Charlie then feared the unthinkable - he would become lessened in the eyes of his Family. Also, with the Family's healthy fleet of dune buggys and supplies having eaten up the lion's share of the money sucked from recruits and the number of Family members increasing there was the problem of decreasing expenses (i.e. ridding himself of useless members) while trying to acquire enough money for the eventual move to the desert. He had to act. He had to somehow prove his infallibility.

In the end, it was like playing a whole game that ends in a tie. Glad I played, but ultimately not fulfilling. Your mileage may vary.





Saturday, August 17, 2013

The Netflix Companion: Skatopia (88 Acres of Anarchy)

 Note to reader: the following post is allegorical, and should not be taken to mean that Eviliz, her agents, her great aunt, her downstairs neighbor and/or her hairdresser acknowledge any resemblance between the man with the Starship Enterprise on his stomach to persons living, dead and/or incarcerated in Corcoran, CA.

Patty just saw this 2006 documentary about self proclaimed anarchist, womanizer, "skate park cult leader" entrepreneur and anger management problem sufferer, Brewce Martin (cough cough Charlie). He's a hella nice guy, but he's just been "hit with a bullshit felonious assault charge."
Brewce is extremely charismatic, and dabbles in music. He has also been skating a long, long time. His mother says that as a kid he was "violent" so she encouraged his skating as a way to channel his aggression.
At the beginning of the documentary, Brewce is living with the lovely, mohawked Halo Whitelight, mother of his 14 month old child (Brewce's other child is 20 year old Brandon "Hellskull" Martin). Halo understands that Brewce has a "fidelity problem," but she is convinced that he has recently changed for her. She is quite a firecracker and got her college's administration to start a lactation room program when her child was born.
By the end of the documentary Bruce gets caught cheatin' and Halo has moved out.
Brewce tuned in, turned on and dropped out of Generation X back in the 90's to run what appears to be the Spahn Ranch of Rutland, Ohio.
Members of his loose knit (cough cough) "Family" are known as the Citizens Instigating Anarchy, or the CIA (cough SLA cough ELF cough cough International Court of Retribution). One kid recalls being cautioned about Skatopia: "Don't go out there! They'll steal your car keys! They'll beat you up! They'll make you stay!"
The people of Rutland "think we are worshipping the devil out here," Brewce laughs. "I'm just keeping my cultees in line."
Brewce has got plenty of (cough) redheaded "young love" camped out on his property for a good part of the year. He encourages them to enjoy the "wonders of nature" (cough cough or you don't get off). "Papa Brewce takes care of us so we do a lot of shit for him."
He's got plenty of horny old geezers out there doing shit for him, too.

Somehow, with all the work gettin' done, everyone still remains perpetually broke. One kid actually admits to having eaten dumpster food.

These are actual people! This is not some low(er) budget reboot of "Leslie, Thy Name is Evil." Oh, and BTW: Brewce has been in Rolling Stone, just like (insert name of musical/political/religious/spaceship/personality cult leader here, cough cough).

Sex, Drugs, Rock n Roll and Violence: people will always and forever love reading about lifestyles that contain them. Anyone (cough) who is perceived to have an excess of them is a very dangerous man, indeed.

Check it out!