True story. About forty-odd years ago when I was 12, my parents took me to Vegas. We were checking into one of their larger hotels that had gigantic pillars in the middle of a lobby the size of a football stadium. Each pillar had a couch wrapped around it, and that's where Mom put me with my usual book. She told me to stay put until they got through the long check-in line.

I was lost in the book, something horsey, when I heard a guy say "Oh you're into horses!"

"Yeah. I have one at home and I show," I said, looking at him. He had long hair back in neat ponytail and absolutely mesmerizing dark eyes: even at 12 I could feel the power and force. You felt like he was entirely into what you were saying: nothing in the world meant more to him than your next words. Powerful stuff for a child.

For a hell of a lot of people, as it turned out. Who knew?

Our conversation meandered on - he had a ranch with horses in California, would I like to come ride? Sure! But I doubt Mom and Dad would let me go, I told him.

They don't need to know, he said, those dark eyes promising so much fun.

Days of nothing but riding, many different horses, riding wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. He'd accurately zeroed in on the one thing that could possibly lure me into doing something I'd normally never do. That's quite a talent.

But back then I had an odd feeling, something I'd never felt before. I was a very protected child, so I'd never come into contact with anything like what I was facing. Nor would I again, but I didn't know that then.

Life went on. A year or two later I was watching TV with my parents when the news came on. I started to get up and leave like I always did, when something caught my eye. The screen was filled with a photo of the guy I'd talked to in Vegas. Wow! I sat back down, curious.

Fifteen minutes later I was in screaming hysterics, my father was bellowing in very, very rare rage and mom was hugging me fiercely, speechless for once.

The man whom I'd spoken to for nearly an hour that day in Vegas?

Charlie Manson.

You never know what life is going to bring your way, that's for sure. What seems like an absolute nightmare can, years later, be merely a fascinating story that ties in to a certain reality show.

How could Big Brother relate to a man who is arguably the most horrific, demented killer America has ever seen? Only in the mind of a demented writer, if I'm honest ;) Just in case younger Jokers are unfamiliar with this cult leader during the late "60s, check out this YouTube of "Helter Skelter" - a movie made from the book by the same name. (I'd suggest watching this nowhere near bedtime.)

As a certified old fart who adores all things horror, I've read countless scary books. But "Helter Skelter" is in a league of its own: it's a large factual book about Manson's "family" (the cult of young hippies who worshipped him) and the deeds they did, on behalf of Manson. He himself never killed one soul.

He sure did get laid a lot, though. And I do mean a LOT! So, could he have a bastard son out there? I Googled, and he could have at least 20! Supposedly he had one 'verified' son who committed suicide in the last 90's, no reason given.

How would Manson's illegitimate son tie in to #BB17, you ask again? There might be an answer in tomorrow's #JUshocker post -- or you Big Brother super fans might have figured it out!