THE MOVIE BEGINS with the fake story of a rock n’ roll drummer in a convertible and two bombshell hippie hitchhikers by the side of the road. The year is 1968. Beach Boy Dennis Wilson is only recently divorced from his first wife, Carol Freeman, and living the high life in a large log-cabin styled home, the address of which is 14400 Sunset Boulevard, Pacific Palisades. The house had been the former hunting lodge of Freemason Will Rogers, a close friend of royal spook Charles Lindbergh. It is springtime, and we are expected to believe that Wilson has already picked up the same two hippie hitchhikers by the side of the road some weeks earlier. Remember, the groundwork is being laid here for an upcoming Langley production. You are under no obligation to believe Wilson’s encounter with the two women ever happened. We’re reading from the page of a psyop in a year already drenched with psyops in which the ending has already been scripted, and this is the opening act. Before I’m through clapping away on the keyboard, you shall see why.
Their names are Patricia Krenwinkel and Ella Jo Bailey, by the way. The two hippie hitchhikers. We are gazing in upon their second meeting by the side of the road, only this time Wilson invites them to his house “for milk and cookies.” Code word for something else entirely. Somewhere along the way, he brags about his experiences with the Maharishi, founder of Transcendental Meditation. Another spook operation which Intel just had to wedge into an already bloated script, the point of which however, and they want you to know this, that all spooks swim in the same circles. The women then inform him that they too have a spiritual guru, and his name is Charlie.
Patricia Krenwinkel met Manson in Manhattan Beach in 1967, along with Lynette Fromme and Mary Brunner. By her own testimony, she had sex with Manson on the first night they met, perhaps because he was the very first person who’d told her she was beautiful. She ditched her last paycheck and followed Charlie to San Francisco. Ell Jo Bailey was rooming with Susan Atkins in the Haight-Ashbury district when Charlie and his Family arrived. Krenwinkel described their following drug-crazed sex romp across the American west as follows. “We were just like wood nymphs and wood creatures. We would run through the woods with flowers in our hair, and Charles would have a small flute.” Emphasis is my own.
Actually, come to think of it, the summer of 1969 would deal out three prominent productions. There is the science-fiction movie we know as the Apollo 11 moon landing, the mythological-based musical called Woodstock and, specific to this topic at hand, a horror film. You’ve probably heard of it. Its plot centers upon the murder of horror actress Sharon Tate in the home of horror director Roman Polanski by a talent-less hack who couldn’t cut it in the music industry, because it was set up that way from the beginning. The entire episode is a hoax, and that can mean only one thing. Even The Beach Boys were in on it.
The girls stay behind at the former home of cowboy Roy Rogers while Dennis Wilson continues on to a recording session with cousin Mike Love and his brothers. When he returns home, the lights are on, an iconic school bus is parked outside, and the voices of some twenty girls, undoubtedly fueled by LSD and hormones, echo into the starry night. Charlie Manson, aka Miles Maddox, is there to greet him at the door. He drops to his knees and kisses the Beach Boys feet. Ridiculous. But it is the plot we are given to work with. And from here on out, it gets even worse.
In short time, Wilson will take to calling him “The Wizard.”
An American Family
YOU’VE PROBABLY heard The Beach Boys referred to in such grandiose terms as being “America’s band,” and that’s no joke. Before following the bread crumbs laid out before me, I decided to dig into the genealogies of brothers Brian, Dennis, and Carl Wilson and cousin Mike Love, just to see what we’re dealing with, and let’s put it this way. If I were to present all my findings, it would take a book. They’re related to just about everybody, and in turn, spooks are related to them. We’re dealing with blue bloods.
Yeah, they’re related to Walt Disney, and Admiral Byrd, as cousins go. Wilbur and Orville Wright. Walt Whitman, Emily Dickenson, and Robert Frost. John Smith and Brigham Young. Amelia Earhart, John Brown, and Johnny Appleseed and a thousand other household names who fill the pages of Illuminati written history books and our television screen. But I haven’t even scratched the surface.
As cousins go, I was able to track down 12 notable United States presidents in their family tree. Thomas Jefferson. James Madison. Millard Fillmore. Franklin Pierce. Ulysses S. Grant. Grover Cleveland. William Howard Taft. Warren G. Harding. Calvin Coolidge. Herbert Hoover. Franklin D. Roosevelt. And Gerald Ford. You may be aware of where I’m going with this, because again, this isn’t even the whole of it.
I was able to trace 3 Mayflower passengers in their direct lineage, and now we are finally getting somewhere. John Billington, Peter Brown, and Francis Cooke are all 10th great-grandfathers. Sure, Mike Love and Brian Wilson are cousins, but it works out the same. In either case, we can gaze across the Atlantic pond from Plymouth Rock and discover that the band which seemed to encapsulate America’s spirit is directly descended from 9 signers of the Magna Carta. To compare, Marilyn Monroe, 8th cousin once removed via William Gifford, was carefully bred from 12 patriarchal signers, whereas George H.W. Bush is directly descended from 14 signers. What this means is, The Beach Boys aren’t quite so royal—but they’re still very royal. And as the human experience goes, when led by the mythology of Manifest Destiny and Capitalism and all that dribble, that’s not natural.
Their 24th great-grandfathers include John de Lacy, Gilbert de Clare, Robert Fitz Walter, Saher de Quincy, and Robert de Vere. We then find 25th great-grandfather Richard de Clare. 26th great-grandfathers Hugh le Bigod and Henry de Bohun. And finally, 27th great-grandfather Roger le Bigod.
Next comes the noted monarchs of history. Their 24th great-grandfather is King Edward I. King Henry III of England, 25th great-grandfather. William the Conqueror of England, 28th great-grandfather. King Robert I of France, 33rd great-grandfather. Alfred the Great, King of the Anglo-Saxons, 35th great-grandfather. And last but certainly not least, Charlemagne, King of the Franks, is their 38th great-grandfather, firmly grounding Love and the Wilson’s in the anti-Messiah bloodline.
Really, the question you should probably be asking is: What is royalty? Because we’re not simply talking about kings and dukes and duchesses either. The royalty we are speaking of share the same general ancestry which is often referred to as the 13th Illuminati bloodline or the Merovingian line, and it is likely not yours, certainly not mine. The Windsor-Bush bloodline, wherein our U.S. Presidents are selected, traces its origins far beyond British and French royalty. It passes Marie Antoinette and King Louis XVI to the popes and the Medici family, but doesn’t stop there. It continues back right on through Roman Emperors to the Egyptian Pharaohs and kings of ancient Babylon, and even earlier still.
Why is it that someone’s genetics—based upon who had sex with whom and in what order—determines who will rule over a country, and sometimes the world? If you conclude that it’s because they’re a special pedigree, then you are correct. I have looked into enough of these genealogies among American royals to begin and question if, esoterically speaking, the signers of the Magna Carte and the Mayflower passengers were even human, because the greatest sons in the kingdom of Cain all seem to be related to them. Did you see what I just did there? I took our conversation and made it Biblical. The sons of Cain who rule over the sons of Seth have claimed the throne, but more-so, every avenue of our fabricated reality, through a bastardy rule. Theirs is a secret yet obsessive breeding program, and unless you are the blood of another color, then you are the slave and they are your master.
I seem to recall, there is particular genetics that was referred to at one time as the bloodline of the gods.
Invasion of the Space Girls
LIKE ANY good psyop, the groundwork needed to be laid out in advance. You will tell me that most Americans didn’t know who Charlie Manson was until some weeks after the murder of Sharon Tate, when in fact they had a good decade to learn the names of their Mercury and Apollo astronauts before the Hollywood basement moon landing. That may be so. But the groundwork was laid out in advance. Case in point, Dennis Wilson’s tall-tale of “milk and cookies” with hippie hitchhikers. After Americans became aware of who actor Charlie Manson was, the media had already willfully produced a paper trail for discovery. Consider the following December 1968 article in Record Mirror, where the myth of Manson is already being pushed upon the world. I will lay out Wilson’s account, stopping only for comment.
“I live in the woods in California, near Death Valley, with 17 girls.”
Already, we are off to a bad start, as there are no woods near Death Valley. I should know because I once lived within 100 miles of Death Valley, and anything but Joshua trees were terribly difficult to come by. The article is published on December 21, and so, while it is possible that he’s referring to Baker Ranch, Charlie Manson is not supposed to have heard about it until November, and they were living on the Spahn movie set at this time.
According to Manson’s record producer Phil Kaufman, there were only about 12 girls in the Manson Family and not 17. Why then would Wilson drop the number 17? In Hebrew, 17 is the number of sin. In the Mysteries of Isis, Osiris was murdered by Set on the 17th day of the lunar month. The Egyptians therefore considered 17 an abomination. Pythagoras taught that 17 is when “The Devil triumphs over God.” I think we’re onto something here. But also, let’s be honest. Dennis Wilson doesn’t come across as the sort of individual who would be privy to these details. In the way of a psyop, Dennis Wilson is the sort of person whom you just hand fast cars, a rotunda of rotating babes, shiny drums and replacement drum sticks and then call it a day. More than likely, he was beating away on his drums, imagining himself as a member of the Wrecking Crew, when somebody in Intel whispered into his ear: “Tell them you live with 17 girls,” by which Wilson grinned and nodded, righteous, already dreaming about the woods in which he’d never visited. He’s reading from a script.
And anyhow, by some accounts, as many as 50 followers inhabited Manson’s ranch near Death Valley, which is also ridiculous. Yet another number they drop in our lap, when the number 50 suggests the Universe is being expressed by the individual. Sure. Most of those people probably weren’t even real people. I’m willing to bet the real Manson couldn’t find enough people in the park to form a basketball team.
Likening Manson’s followers to something Biblical, the number 12, Phil Kaufman also added: “Every time Charlie saw a girl he liked, he’d tell someone, ‘Get that girl. ‘And when they brought her back, Charlie would take her out in the woods and talk to her for an hour or two. And she would never leave.” There’s the woods again. Whatever. The only reason they’d “never leave” Manson, a little man leveling off at 5 foot two inches, is because they were probably one of Colonel Louis West’s fake hippie actors, whom he set about to create the Haight-Ashbury experiment as part of his MK-Ultra research.
Keep in mind, when it comes to Kaufman, we’re dealing with the same individual who stole the corpse of country musician Gram Parsons and burned it in Joshua Tree National Monument in California. Like Wilson, Kaufman is another actor responsible for introducing the world to the character role of Charlie Manson. The two apparently met while inmates in Terminal Island Prison, shortly before Manson’s release. But even before that, we find Kaufman as an actor, playing parts in several movies, one of which is Stanley Kubrick’s Spartacus. According to Kaufman, a guard taunted guitar pickin’ Manson that he would never get out. Manson calmly responded by looking up from his guitar and saying, “Get out of where?”
After prison, Kaufman quickly found work, via the Intel Employment office, as a driver and “assistant” to The Rolling Stones. Mick Jagger referred to him as his “executive nanny.” For all I know, Kaufman is another music biz handler. It is Kaufman who chaperoned Manson around town. But I’m already getting ahead of myself, because Kaufman had promised Manson a meeting with his friend, Gary Stromberg at Universal, before he was even released. In turn, Stromberg arranged for a three-hour studio session for Manson at Universal City Records, despite the fact that Manson had already spent over half of his life in prison. Right. Stromberg was apparently so taken by Manson that he ruminated over a potential film project. Kaufman and Manson then went about attending parties together at the house of a “friend,” which happened to be right next door to 3301 Waverly Drive, the very residence where the Manson family is accredited with carrying out the LaBianca murders. This entire narrative makes so much more sense if you just fill in Intel or psyop or stage where each person and location comes in.
Back to Dennis Wilson’s interview with Record Mirror.
“They’re space ladies.”
We’re only two sentences into Wilson’s introduction of Manson and I’m already lost. Are we getting our Langley psyops crossed, science-fiction with horror? You tell me. I’m willing to bet that, when Wilson was banging away on his drums and the Intel agent whispered into his ear: “Tell them you live with 17 girls,” the Beach Boy grinned, “I’m gonna tell them they’re space ladies.” Nice improv, Dennis.
“And they’d make a great group. I’m thinking of launching them as the Family Gems. [The way I met them was] strange … I went up into the mountains with my houseboy to take an LSD trip. We met two girls hitch-hiking. One of them was pregnant. We gave them a lift, and a purse was left in the car. About a month later, near Malibu, I saw the pregnant girl again, only this time she’d had her baby. I was overjoyed for her and it was through her that I met all the girls.”
You will recall this is the same episode which I have already outlined. Patricia Krenwinkel and Ella Jo Bailey. Were these two girls one of Colonel Louis West’s hippie actors? Perhaps we shall never know.
“I told them about our involvement with the Maharishi and they told me they too had a guru, a guy named Charlie who’d recently come out of jail after 12 years.”
Look at Dennis go, dropping numbers. The guy’s a walking calculator. He’s referring to Terminal Island Prison, but also Vacaville State Prison. Why is Vacaville a red flag? Because it has a fake wing for fake prisoners. Are there real prisoners at Vacaville? Obviously. But not in the fake wing. This is the same prison which later held Donald DeFreeze, the fake actor responsible for kidnapping Patty Hearst. He was initially recruited through the Black Cultural Association, an educational program started by a CIA operative who played the part of a U.C. Berkeley professor, Colston Westbrook. Mansonite Bobby Beausoleil is currently serving a life sentence at Vacaville, probably in the fake wing. Timothy Leary spent time there too. Sure.
“His mother was a hooker, his father was a gangster, he’d drifted into crime, but when I met him, I found he had great musical ideas. We’re writing together now. He’s dumb, in some ways, but I accept his approach and have learnt from him.”
Already, Wilson is building the foundation with Manson’s backstory. His mother was a hooker and his father was a gangster when in fact neither of them probably even existed as advertised. Manson was most likely pimped out by Daddy Intel from the very beginning. Also, they’re “writing together now” and “he’s dumb.” It is interesting to note that the original working title of The Beach Boys abandoned Smile album (the sequel to Pet Sounds), was Dumb Angel. The title was said to have been an expression of Brian Wilson’s insight into the character of his brother Dennis. The complete mental breakdown which accompanied Brian Wilson during the making of that album has all the markings of MK-Ultra. But more on that in a moment, because at present, it’s all there in Wilson’s quip—the very frustration which will crawl under Manson’s skin and eventually explode with the Roman Polanski house.
Those intimately aware of the Manson mythology will immediately identify this period as the time when Manson was angling for a record contract. As previously mentioned, it was Dennis Wilson, along with chauffeur Phil Kaufman, who introduced him to friends and industry executives. Mama Cass hung out with Manson at her house and at various parties. Neil Young justified his presence in the spook circle by claiming he was an improvisational genius. Young has stated:
I asked him [Manson] if he had a recording contract. He told me he didn’t yet, but he wanted to make records. I told Mo Ostin at Reprise about him, and recommended that Reprise check him out. Shortly afterward, the Sharon Tate-La Bianca murders happened, and Charlie Manson’s name was known around the world.
Every bit of this, including Wilson’s own speech, comes across like the impromptu murmurings of crisis actors. You can see Wilson clearly ramping Charlie up. Why would the media care about some guy living in the desert with space girls when the readers would prefer hearing about Dennis Wilson? Perhaps for the same reason that talent scout Gregg Jakobson, Dennis Wilson’s longtime writing partner (they composed Forever together), wanted to feature Manson and his Family in a documentary. There it is again, the film project. Because a five foot two inch-tall Charlie was that charismatic. Actors and actresses everywhere loved the guy while he was downright rejected by industry executives. Right.
The Manson family was later discovered possessing a truck loaded with film equipment, courtesy of NBC. We are often told that Manson and his space girls stole the truck, but that is just another ridiculous plot hole in the script. What Intel is ultimately telling you, knowing that most will refuse to believe it, is that Manson’s fake documentary was filmed. And The Beach Boys were in on it.
Boom boom-boom pow!
I HAVE OFTEN speculated about who Beach Boys Brian Wilson’s handler might have been. Phil Spector, maybe. Consider this. Wilson first heard “Be My Baby,” what many consider to be the epitome of Spector’s Wall of Sound, while driving in 1963. The story relates that Wilson became so enraptured by the song, he had to pull over to the side of the road in order to carefully analyze its chorus.
For the remained of the decade, copies of the record could be found in every room of his house. Wilson instructed a loop tape be made consisting only of the song’s chorus. He’d listen to it for several hours at a time, repeatedly, until he fell into a trance. His daughter Carnie Wilson stated that during her childhood: “I woke up every morning to boom boom-boom pow! Boom boom-boom pow! Every day.” According to Mike Love, Wilson compared the song to Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity. For much of The Sixties, Wilson used the same Hollywood studios, session musicians, and engineers as Spector. And in December 1964, after experiencing a nervous breakdown, what lesson did Wilson learn but to “take the things I learned from Phil Spector and use more instruments whenever I could.” Before the decade came to a close, Wilson became convinced that Spector had bugged his home and recording studio. Classic Monarch Butterfly paranoia.
There is also Terry Melcher to consider. FYI, Melcher is the son of singer-actress Doris Day. After Brian Wilson succumbed to his nervous breakdown, probably due to MK-Ultra cross-wiring, Bruce Johnston took over his singing gig on the road while Wilson stayed behind in the studio. Melcher and Johnston had formerly performed in the surf-rock duo Bruce & Terry. So, you can see Melcher’s influential sway on the group. Here’s where the story gets particularly interesting—as if it’s not already. In 1968, soon after picking up a couple of bombshell hippie hitchhikers, Dennis Wilson introduced Terry Melcher to Charlie Manson. But that’s not the interesting part.
Manson met Melcher at 10050 Cielo Drive, the home which he shared with his girlfriend, Candice Bergen of Murphy Brown fame. In the matter of months, Melcher and Bergen moved out. Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate moved in. You know the rest.
Do you know who else was introduced at the 10050 Cielo Drive house? If not, then that’s okay. It’s why you’re probably here. I’ll tell you. Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks. The duo paired together to write the ill-fated Smile album which, once again, led to Wilson’s complete mental breakdown. Parks is easily identified as another spook, one of Wilson’s rotating managers.
Fun fact. Van Dyke Parks dropped by for a visit at the 10050 Cielo Drive house on the very day of the murders. Coincidence? In Hebrew, there is no such word.