Lindsay Lohan Goes Bald For Charles Manson
America’s ex-sweetheart Lindsay Lohan has been cast in Manson Girls, a film about the stable of female followers surrounding '60s cult leader Charles Manson. Shawty L-O is playing Nancy Pitman, a wealthy girl from Malibu who left home at 16 to join Manson’s “family.” While Pitman didn’t help commit the infamous murder of Sharon Tate, she did help Manson cover it up, and even tried to pass him acid while he was in prison. Instead of going to jail herself, Pitman lived underground in the sewers to evade authorities. After Manson’s guilty verdict came down, Pitman and some of his other followers shaved their heads in solidarity. We’re hoping this means Lindsay will make like Britney and break out the clippers for real.
While you await the first pictures of bald Lohan, watch a video after the jump of the freaky-ass Manson girls holding a vigil for Charlie outside the courthouse…
Bob July 17, 2008 at 1:20 pm
I saw on the news the other day where they were considering a plea to let Susan Atkins out of prison to die. Seems she has terminal brain cancer and they have already amputated one of her legs. She is partially paralyzed and just about gone already. Well, they denied her request to die among friends and family. “She is a cold-blooded woman who to this day has not displayed any remorse,†wrote Sharon Tate’s sister Debra Tate, according to The Associated Press.
The Los Angeles County D.A. argued against Atkins’ release and said that the woman who was the leading character in one of the most horrific chapters in California history “has failed to demonstrate genuine remorse and lacks insight and understanding of the gravity of her crimes.”
Atkins, who has about six months left to live, had asked the court to let her spend the last days of her life among friends and family and not prison guards. Atkins is now 60 and has been in detention longer than any other female inmate in California history.
LA District-Attorney Patrick Sequeira detailed for the board the Family’s carnage. In the end, authorities counted 102 knife thrusts in the nine murder victims, not to mention shootings and other mayhem. Mr Sequeira put Atkins right in the middle of it. “Miss Atkins is one of the most notorious mass murderers in United States history,” he said. “To grant her a release would be an affront to the people of this state, the California justice system, the family and the next of kin of the many murder victims.”
For whatever reason, the Board of Parole Hearings yesterday said no to Susan Atkins, whose friends and family had begged the state to let her out of prison in her dying days on a compassionate release.
No explanation was given for the board’s 11-0 decision.
Boy, Charles Manson…… that really brought back some memories…..
I was about 21 or 22 working at Orbach’s in Beverly Hills in the print shop making signs for the store when that all happened. It was a few months before I got into the special effects lighting business. I was eating dinner by myself at Alphie’s on Sunset Blvd. one weeknight in September not a month after those murders. Susan Atkins was walking the Strip, probably panhandling, and out of the crowd she just plopped herself down at my table. Alphie’s was a sidewalk café and my table was right by the street entrance. I was through with dinner and drinking a cup of coffee while watching all the freaks parade past. She told me her name was Sadie Glutz and started telling me this crazy story about the “Family” she was a part of. I figured she was a very spaced out druggie, and tried to get her to buzz off. She was filthy dirty and really skuzzy looking in her long dirty madras hippie dress. I remember thinking she had the most unusual fingers I had ever seen. They were long and skinny, and her fingertips almost came to a point. Her tiny narrow fingernails were also really dirty. Anyway, she just kept on and asked me over and over again to give her a ride home. I tried to ignore her, and went in to pay and leave. She followed me, and kept saying that it was only a block away. HA! When I went out back to get in my car, she followed me out there too. She would not take no for an answer. I was driving a classic ‘62 Mark II Jag, (I still have it) and she just HAD to have a ride in it. I figured WTF, I’ll take her a block and be rid of her. Well, then she kept saying that it was just around the next corner. She had me turn left, and the next thing I knew I was on the freeway heading north. Then she said it was the next exit. That kept on until we got to Chatsworth. Then up a mountain that looked like a scene from a Hopalong Cassidy movie to the old movie ranch where they were all hiding out. We got stopped by a couple of cops in the road on the way up there. They had their guns out and said they were after a guy that they thought they may have winged. They searched my trunk, and then let us go on. They told us not to stop for anyone on foot up ahead. To this day I never have figured out what that was all about. I pulled into the rundown ranch, and parked at the hitching post. I knew right away that I could be in real trouble when this really scurvy looking ragtag bunch came out of one of the storefronts and started eyeing me and my car. The Jag, my handmade Italian shoes, and handmade leather coat had them licking their chops. Something told me I would have to play my cards right if I was going to get out of there alive. It never occurred to me that they could have had anything to do with the recent grisly murders, but they sure looked like they might have something to do with mine.
Anyway, I met all the freaks that were at that ranch, including the old blind man, the little witch who lived outback in a chicken coop, the old cowgirl, and Charlie himself along with all his minions. Charlie told me all about their place in the desert, and asked me to join the group. I was flattered. He said they were going to smuggle dope across the border from Mexico on gliders and get rich. I told him that sounded like a great idea. They needed someone with a legitimate job to get a baby out of protective services the next day when the mother was getting out of jail. Well, of course I told them I would be glad to let them stay with me. So, they let me leave with all my stuff after giving me their phone number. Atkins gave me the number and said it was the number for “Spahn’s Family”, as she referred to them. I told her I would call her first thing the next day. She told me I was her Sir Lancelot. She said we could all go up in the canyon and have an orgy after we got the baby back. I gave her a phony number and told them I worked at May Co. Then avoiding a kiss on the cheek, I got the hell out of there. The next morning at work, I told a couple of the guys all about the weirdos I met the night before. I told them the whole story, and we all got a big laugh out of it. I don’t remember exact dates, but it was only a couple of weeks or so until one of the guys walked in one morning with the LA Times. He flopped it down in front of me and said they had caught my buddies up in the canyon for killing Sharon Tate. I looked down at the front page and there they all were. I was stunned. That was when I realized that it really was a good thing I had gotten my ass out of there. Well, a couple of hours later after the story had spread all over the store, the head of security came into my office and told me I needed to go downtown to the police station and talk to someone in the homicide division. He said he heard about my encounter with the Manson bunch, and that the cops wanted to talk to anyone who had any contact with them. I left work and went downtown to be interviewed by a detective. He asked me a lot of questions that I couldn’t answer, but he mainly wanted to know what kind of music was playing on the stereo when I was there. I told him they were playing Beatles music, which they were. I also told him about the two officers that stopped us on the way up there. He didn’t comment on that, but he gave me his card and told me to call him if I thought of anything else. Well, I didn’t care to think of anything else, but I kept his card. I still have it. I scanned it and here it is along with a picture of my old Jag that I gave Susan Atkins a ride in. This picture was taken in Florida about five years later. I saw recently where they were looking for more bodies of people killed by those creeps in the desert, and up in Devil’s Canyon where Sadie Glutz suggested we go.
It would not let me include the attachment.