Handle with Care

Some pervert from the interfacewebbook told me to rent The Candy Snatchers. I liked the title and knew nothing about it. I knew even less about the guy who told me to rent it, so it seemed like the right thing to do. Candy Snatchers stars Los Angeles and a host of sexyish actors nobody ever heard of and certainly all of whom went on to do nothing. They perform with panache until some autistic kid shows up and completely stole my heart without ever saying a word. He’s like Mongo from Precious, but extraordinarily white and kinda sexy. Candy Snatchers puts damaged kids in the driver’s seat but for what reason, I do not know. I do know that if I were an autistic child in the 1970s, I’d be running all over the Hollywood Hills trying to get in some such trouble. Who would care? Charles Manson and Warren Beatty would be wreaking havoc on every shit-for-brains asshole in the city and I’d be home by dinner. But what really scared me about The Candy Snatchers is if I were a kid today I’d totally be diagnosed autistic or assbergery or bi-friggin-polar or whatever people choose to submit to and my parents would have me on every drug known to man. I’d still find my way on to the internetts though and I’d surely sell my attention-deficit ass to the first troll who offered me $5.00; the kind of upstanding citizen who’d recommend The Candy Snatchers. Ta Ta, Rock Hard