An Open Letter from Charles Manson to Donald Trump

Congratulations on Out-Crazying Me: How You Turned My Cult Playbook Into a National Spectacle

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Dear Donald,

Man, you’re a real trip. Watching you from this side of the veil, I gotta say, you’re something else. You’ve taken the game I thought I mastered and turned it into a blockbuster franchise. Control, on a scale so massive, it makes my little "family" look like a garage band fumbling through a cover song. And you’ve done it all from a penthouse and a golf course instead of a desert commune. Respect where it’s due.

See, I thought I was the maestro of manipulation. I spun tales of apocalypse, told my people the Blackbird would rise—a code from a Beatles song they believed signaled the start of our revolution—that there was a secret war only we could fight. You? You had your own version: the rigged election, the "deep state", and the stolen future of "real" Americans. Different symbols, same results: blind obedience to a manufactured crisis. And they believed me. They believed me so much they’d kill for me. They’d die for me. But you? You’ve got millions eating out of your hand, and you barely have to lift a finger. Just get up there, point at the shadows on the wall, and suddenly they see monsters. Genius.

And here’s the kicker: neither of us ever lifted a hand to commit the violence we incited. I never entered that house on Cielo Drive, never wielded the knife or the gun. You didn’t storm the Capitol or smash windows. But we didn’t have to. Our words were the weapons. You call it "Stop the Steal"; I called it Helter Skelter. Same playbook, different slogans. The blood? That’s on the hands of the ones we sent. But make no mistake—we’re the architects.

Your mob killed seven people. Mine? Seven too. But you’ve outdone me, Donnie. Yours wasn’t just about blood—it was about a coup. Overthrowing an election, desecrating the Capitol, defying democracy itself. My “revolution” was amateur hour compared to your grand production. I sent my followers into a couple of houses. You sent yours into the beating heart of a nation’s government. Bravo.

And don’t think I missed how you did it. You didn’t just copy the script; you perfected it. You found the angry, the alienated, the forgotten—the ones who felt invisible. You told them they were special, that you alone could fix their lives. You didn’t just sell them lies; you made them feel alive. You weaponized their loneliness and their rage, turning their pain into your power.

But here’s what really makes your game next-level: the way you’ve given them a sense of identity. By framing them as victims of a vast, sinister conspiracy—be it the "deep state" or rigged elections—you’ve convinced them they’re the last line of defense against tyranny. It’s brilliant because it turns every slight into proof of your narrative, every legal challenge into martyrdom, and every critic into an enemy of "real" Americans. That persecuted identity? It binds them to you tighter than any slogan ever could.

I used a scratched-up Beatles album to twist into my narrative. You’ve got 24/7 cable news and social media echo chambers amplifying your paranoia. Tucker Carlson, Fox News, Truth Social—they’ve turned your fears into a symphony. My paranoia was about a race war; yours is about the "deep state", immigrants, and transgender people. Different tunes, same result: blind obedience.

And speaking of tunes, let’s not forget the part where both of us had dreams of stardom. I was a wannabe rockstar, and you wanted to be a TV icon. But here’s the kicker—we were both dismissed as untalented jokes in those worlds. The Beatles didn’t return my calls, and Hollywood didn’t give you the Emmy you craved. But rejection? It’s a hell of a motivator, isn’t it? We took that same hunger for validation and funneled it into something darker, something that forced the world to pay attention.

And let’s talk about race. My Helter Skelter was a call to racial apocalypse. You? You’ve built your brand on racial division. Charlottesville, the Central Park Five, calling immigrants "rapists"—you’ve made racism your calling card. And when white supremacists marched, you called them "very fine people". Bold move, Donnie. Even I wasn’t that blunt.

Then there’s another dark mirror between us: how we exploited young women. I turned my charm into a tool, making them believe they were part of something divine, only to use them as pawns for my plans. You? You’ve left a trail of sex crimes, from assault to bragging about grabbing women without consent. Let’s not forget the verbal disrespect, either. Your misogyny isn’t just an ugly footnote—it’s part of your brand. The difference is, I called it "family." You call it "locker room talk." But the truth? It’s the same predation, just rebranded for prime time.

But let me give you extra credit for turning sadism into patriotism. At your rallies, you didn’t just stoke their rage; you celebrated it. You praised violence against journalists, hinted at “Second Amendment people” taking action, and they roared like it was their sacred duty. I had to mask my darkness as “love.” You? You’ve made cruelty a badge of honor.

And it’s not just the spectacle—it’s the scale. Unlike my little commune, your movement hasn’t evolved; it’s metastasized. Your base isn’t adapting; it’s growing more toxic, dragging in supporters from unexpected demographics, not because of any universal truth you’re preaching, but because you’ve mastered the art of exploiting discontent. They’re not just rural, white, and disaffected anymore. You’ve managed to weaponize alienation, feeding on the insecurities and grievances of anyone desperate enough to listen. That’s not revolutionary—it’s predatory. You haven’t built a movement; you’ve cobbled together a mob, united not by hope or purpose, but by the lies and resentments you manufacture.

But here’s a heads-up, leader to leader: there’s always a reckoning. You can’t keep them in the dark forever. I tried. When the lights came on in that courtroom, my kingdom of love and loyalty crumbled into dust. The ones who swore to die for me started saving themselves. The people who chanted my name turned on me to escape their own fate. That’s the thing about fear, Donnie. It’s a hell of a motivator, but it’s a lousy foundation. Eventually, it cracks.

You’re riding high now, but it won’t last. The lies pile up, the fear wears thin, and the loyalty turns sour. One day, the people who chant your name will ask themselves why they ever did. And when that day comes? It’s not pretty. Trust me. I’ve been there.

So enjoy the ride while you can, Big Daddy. Wave the flags, soak up the cheers, build your little kingdom. But remember this: even the brightest spotlight burns out, and when it does, the shadows you’ve cast won’t protect you. They’ll devour you.

With a wink and a smirk,
Charlie

P.S. Life sentences have a way of making you reflect, Donnie. Yours might not come with bars, but the day your followers see through you? That’s a prison you won’t escape.

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Part 2

Two January 6ths: Cults of Chaos and the Fragility of Democracy

The legacy of January 6 is one of democracy under siege, both literally and figuratively. The contrast between the Capitol riot of 2021 and the certification of Donald Trump’s presidency in 2025 underscores not only the fragility of democratic norms but also the power of cult-like leadership to warp reality and loyalty alike.

The Cult of Personality

In 2021, the Capitol was overrun not by a coherent political movement but by a mob consumed with delusion, driven by Trump’s baseless claims of election fraud. The comparison to Charles Manson isn’t merely rhetorical—it’s instructive. Neither man wielded a weapon, but both orchestrated chaos. Both knew how to tap into the darkest corners of human psychology, exploiting loyalty and fear to command their followers.

Manson convinced his “Family” that they were soldiers in a race war, destined to bring about an apocalyptic reckoning. Trump, with his incessant lies about a stolen election, convinced his followers that they were the last line of defense for a crumbling republic. In both cases, the followers acted not out of independent thought but out of blind devotion to their leader’s narrative.

The parallels don’t end there. Manson thrived on paranoia and alienation, isolating his cult from the rest of society until they believed only in him. Trump did the same on a national scale, using his rallies, tweets, and media megaphone to create an alternate reality where he was the victim, the savior, and the only truth.

When Manson’s followers committed their horrific murders in 1969, they did so under the delusion that they were fulfilling their leader’s prophecy. When Trump’s mob stormed the Capitol in 2021, they chanted his name, carried his flags, and believed they were enacting his will. The blood spilled in both cases was not by the leader’s hand, but by his design. Their consciences—if such things existed—were subservient to their egos, which demanded loyalty at any cost.

Four Years Later: The Shadow of Cultish Devotion

By January 6, 2025, the Capitol was transformed—not into a beacon of democracy but a fortress against the echoes of its recent past. Donald Trump, once again certified as president, stood vindicated in the eyes of his followers, their faith in him stronger than ever. The cult was complete.

The certification was peaceful, yes, but it was far from normal. The Capitol, bristling with security, bore the scars of 2021 both literally and symbolically. Vice President Kamala Harris presided over the session with dignity, certifying the very victory of a man she had once warned was an existential threat to democratic norms. The image of her gaveling in Trump’s return was a surreal reminder of how deeply his influence had shaped, and warped, the political landscape.

Trump’s cultish hold over his supporters, like Manson’s over his Family, didn’t wane with time; it intensified. His re-election wasn’t just a political victory—it was a reaffirmation of the loyalty he demands. The parallels to Manson’s unwavering grip on his followers are chilling: blind faith, unshakable devotion, and a willingness to sacrifice lives, institutions, and even democracy itself in service to the leader’s narrative.

A Lesson in Fragility

The two January 6ths offer a stark lesson in how cults of personality can destabilize democracy. In 2021, Trump’s mob acted as a blunt force instrument of chaos, but their purpose was clear: to upend the system in service of their leader. In 2025, the system held—but only just. The peaceful certification came not from unity or healing but from exhaustion and resignation, as though the nation had accepted its fate rather than embraced its future.

Trump, like Manson, understands the intoxicating power of grievance and loyalty. He weaponized both to rally his followers, first to storm the Capitol and then to restore him to power. The scars of his cult-like leadership are evident in the divisions that continue to plague the nation.

History will judge these two January 6ths not just for what they represent but for what they reveal about the fragility of democratic governance in the face of charismatic manipulation. Manson’s cult ended in blood and imprisonment. Trump’s, disturbingly, seems to be thriving.

If democracy is to survive this era, it must reckon with the dangers of blind devotion and the ease with which a skilled demagogue can turn a nation against itself. Because the truth is as stark as it is sobering: the greatest threat to democracy isn’t the mob at the gates—it’s the man who commands them.

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If you found this article thought-provoking or engaging, please share it, subscribe, and tap the "Buy Me a Coffee" button ☕. Your support energizes my efforts to expose corruption and hold the complicit accountable.

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If you haven’t yet, be sure to check out the companion piece to this article, where I delve into Trump’s tactics and their unsettling parallels to those of another infamous cult leader:

An Open Letter from Jim Jones, Leader of the People’s Temple, to MAGA Cultists
“How 900 Deaths, Cyanide Kool-Aid, and a Jungle Compound Pale in Comparison to Your Fearless Leader's Modern Cult Mastery”

Resources & Recommendations

Books

1. Helter Skelter - Vincent Bugliosi, 1974

2. CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties - Tom O'Neill, 2019

3. Democracy in Chains - Nancy MacLean, 2017

4. On Tyranny - Timothy Snyder, 2017

5. Cultish - Amanda Montell, 2021

Articles and Papers

1. The Psychology of Cults - The Atlantic, 2018

2. Trump and the Authoritarian Playbook - The New York Times, 2020

3. January 6 and the Fragility of American Democracy - Brookings Institution, 2021

4. The Fragility of Democratic Institutions - Journal of Democracy, 2022

Documentaries and Videos

1. Wild Wild Country - Netflix, 2018

2. The Trump Show - BBC, 2020

3. Charles Manson: The Final Words - Reelz, 2017

Psychological and Sociological Resources

1. The Stanford Prison Experiment - Philip Zimbardo, 1971

2. Obedience to Authority - Stanley Milgram, 1974

3. Groupthink - Irving Janis, 1972