Good Riddance To Rotten Rubbish

Susan Atkins is dead.

Good. I hope it was painful. She’s a rare case where redemption and forgiveness was never an option in life and mercy or compassion are completely undeserved upon her death. I don’t care who she leaves behind or any of the phoney charity work she did for when she made appearances before the parole board. At one point during her sentence, she tried to claim she’d never picked up a weapon in her life, when in truth, the only reason she and the other creepazoid Mansonites got caught was because she bragged, in detail, about what she had done to cellmates when she was imprisoned for a different crime. She’s left behind nothing but a legacy of death and terror. It wasn’t just the people she killed. An entire city went into a panic for months because of what her and her cronies did over the course of two August nights in 1969. She laughed her way through her trial as if she were skipping rope in a school yard, in a manner so gruesome, you can’t even write it off as youthful stupidity. Her behavior was monstrous and her subsequent actions in the years that followed never suggested a person who accepted responsibility, except in the hollow words spoon-fed by attornies trying to fool everyone into giving her the life she robbed from others.

Rot in Hell, Atkins. To quote the woman herself, in the final words Sharon Tate probably heard before taking her last breath, I have no mercy for you, bitch.