This episode is like That 70’s Show if everyone quit smoking weed and started listening to a lunatic with a busted guitar. Charles Manson, the world’s angriest pint-sized folk singer, strums a guitar badly enough to start a murder cult. He couldn’t land a record deal, so he settled for recruiting a bunch of barefoot hippies who thought desert dirt was a food group. 

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Nick and Ryan dive into Manson’s “career,” which is basically a blooper reel: stealing cars, bombing auditions, and somehow turning campfire kumbayas into cult recruitment sessions. Meanwhile, his “family” is out there treating felonies like summer camp crafts, nodding along as if the nonsense made sense.

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Fueled by tequila and whiskey, the brothers roast Manson’s logic harder than a campfire marshmallow, pointing out how the scariest part isn’t just the murders, but the fact that Hollywood insiders actually entertained this guy’s music dreams. It’s a mix of cult psychology, 1960s chaos, and jokes sharp enough to cut through the acid haze.

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It's a cocktail of horror and hilarity, proving that sometimes the only thing scarier than a cult leader is his mixtape. 

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