Sure life can smack you upside the head with a rolling pin sometimes, but at least your dad isn't Charles Manson. Matthew Roberts, a 41 year old Los Angeles DJ recently revealed that his biological father is none-other-than Charles Manson, one of the most despicable and notorious whack jobs of the 20th century. Roberts was adopted at birth but decided to search for his real parents 12 years ago. He tracked down his biological mother, who revealed his father's true identity and the gruesome nature of their "relationship".

So here comes the old nature versus nurture argument. In this case, it appears that nurture has come out on top. Roberts is a Gandhi-following vegetarian pacifist. Good for him. Because that's one gene pool that most wish had been permanently drained for the winter. Like anyone within three standard deviations of normal, Roberts was horrified when he found out the truth. He likened it to finding out his father was Adolph Hitler. Well, I might argue that one.

But seven years ago, he did something that most wouldn't. He wrote a letter to his evil, impotent, meglomaniacal headcase of a father. I'm not sure why he would even consider establishing a relationship with this wild-eyed freak, but he did. And they've been corresponding ever since. Manson ends each letter back to his son with a swastika. Wow. I can't believe Hallmark hasn't scooped this guy up.

Roberts says he doesn't want to love him, but doesn't want to hate him either. I'm okay with the latter, personally.

I can almost read the letters now.

"Dear Dad- How is prison? Maybe someday you'll be granted parole and you can teach me how to fish. Or we could have a catch. I think you stand a better chance if you cover up the swastika on your forehead with makeup and stop threatening to molest the family pets of the parole board members. Write soon.

Your non-loving, non-hating son- Matthew."

"Dear Son- I'm really disappointed that you haven't brutally murdered anyone yet. You're 41 years old. What are you doing with your life? Tell Squeaky Fromme I'll be out soon. In the meantime, you need to stop with this conformist, peace crap you sissy. Try starting small. Next person you see, punch them in the groin. Then work your way up to something more challenging. Have to go now. My dinner is here. Quiche with asparagus tips. My favorite.

Burn in hell- Dad"

So next time you're late for work, hungover, have a pimple the size of Rosie on your chin, sitting in bumper to bumper traffic and the vibrations from the bass music in the car behind you is making your pancreas hurt, just remember; at least your dad isn't Charles Manson. Your glass is half-full, my friend.