A Fable

Once there was a bearded young dude with long “hippie” hair that reached to his shoulders, who hung out with street people and “easy” chicks…the dropouts of society. Even as a kid he was “different,” and in later life he was shunned by the Establishment types because of his weird clothes and working-class background. But he was popular with shy and trusting people, who followed him everywhere, even on long trips to the desert, because of his heavy raps about Love, Sharing, and other revolutionary concepts.

But not all of his raps were about the ups in life. He rapped straight ahead about the bummers, too. He was hip to the great hassles that were to go down in the land, and he didn’t cop out when it came to putting down hypocrites. His groupies were both guys and chicks, and they grooved to his magnetic vibes and his heavy, spaced-out eyes. They really got into it. When he split for the desert to get himself together, the straights ignored him, just another of those “oddballs” and “kooks” common to this hot, dry climate.

But one day the Establishment got uptight. The big bust came and he was hustled in front of a judge. One of his own people had gone over to the pigs. He was accused, tried, and found guilty.

Although still in his thirties, he was sentenced to be offed, and his groupies wept for him. His gig was short, but what he was laying down will not soon be forgotten, for this dude’s name was…

Charlie Manson.

(I only wish I wrote this. Doug Kenney did.)