On Leviticus, Shakespeare and Harry Potter

The word “warlock” is not in any English translation of the Bible. Pick any acronym from the ever-expanding alphabet soup of Bible flavors. The word is not in the KJV, the NKJV, the NIV, the ESV, the CEV or any other. I checked (twice), just to make sure.

So if warlocks were the enemies of God Almighty, one would think they’d merit a mention. If God ever called for their summary execution, I would hope to find at least one obscure Old Testament reference. Something in Leviticus, perhaps, the book that covers a cornucopia of death-worthy offenses, such as parental cursing (Leviticus 20:9), sleeping with your dad’s wife (Leviticus 20:11) and straight-up blasphemy (Leviticus 24:16). But no warlocks.

But Leviticus 20:27 is a little problematic.

Some translations of this verse call out the punishable wrongs of “spiritists” and “mediums.” The English Standard Version, one of the most modern translations, is very specific about what kind of practiced magic is very wrong.

“A man or a woman who is a medium or a necromancer shall surely be put to death. They shall be stoned with stones; their blood shall be upon them.”

So by the ESV (a translation claiming to be “as literal as possible“), we need only be concerned about folks that either speak with the dead (mediums), or those that raise them from the grave to do their bidding (necromancers).

But wait, here comes the old reliable King James Version. (more…)

Science Fiction Section



Science Fiction Section, originally uploaded by grabbingsand.

A used book store in Roswell.

Voluntary Maximum Spoilage

If you’ve read the seventh Potter tome … or if you’re not going to read it, but still want to know how everything turns out in the ever-loving end … then do I have the end-all-be-all of almighty spoiler-ation. Allow me to introduce: Potterdammerung!

A non-spoiler-ly excerpt:

Harry: I’ve been thinking and–

Ron: You think it’s too dangerous.

Hermione: And we shouldn’t come along.

Harry: How did you know that?

Hermione: Harry, you’re a good guy, but as characters go you’re kinda predictable. And anyways, we are going.

Now, carry that kind of lovely snark through the rest of the plot (stopping along the way to make just about every Death Eater speak like a LOLCat), and that’s the degree of brilliance that awaits you.

But seriously … if you don’t want to be spoiled for the turns of fate in Deathly Hallows, do not follow the link, because the poster (Sean O’Hara, it says) holds nothing back.

Boots Of Awesome

Mightiest Boots Ever.

Made for walking? More like made for stepping on stage and stealing your date from the front row.

Entirely by accident, I found this (from Marvin Gaye - Live) and other incredible works of long-playing art at the Tralfaz Album Cover Art Gallery. There’s really no rhyme or reason to what artists are included, but there are some gems to be found. The “Les Baxter” wing is particularly excellent.

Hey There, Georgia Girl



Hey There Georgia Girl, originally uploaded by grabbingsand.

No, it didn’t tip over.

But I thought it odd, this panel van. I don’t think there has been a Georgia Girl clothing store anywhere for decades. Maybe it was making a delivery from the past. Some overdue bell-bottoms, perhaps.

Congressional Encouragement

Who would’ve ever thought it would come to this? I wrote my Congressman today. Again. Only this time, my letter was a pep talk instructing him to get up and fight. After you read what I wrote, perhaps you’ll feel the same need to play coach as I. (Also, as I’ve a number of lawyer-folk in my local readership, feel free to elaborate or let me know if I failed to hit a mark.)

Representative Tom Price -

Yesterday afternoon, the balance of power shifted drastically between our three branches of government. Did you notice?

Under federal law, a statutory contempt citation by the House or Senate must be submitted to the U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia, “whose duty it shall be to bring the matter before the grand jury for its action.”

And yet, White House officials argued yesterday that your Congress has no power to force a U.S. attorney to pursue contempt charges in cases, such as the prosecutor firings, in which the president has declared that testimony or documents are protected from release by executive privilege.

Now, I understand that a contempt of Congress citation is not Constitutionally guaranteed, as written. It is an implied power, just as executive privilege exists as an implied power for the executive branch. So why is it that the implied power of the executive branch takes precedent over that of your own legislative branch?

Simply stated, if you let this stand, you’ve lost a sizable amount of legislative leverage.

In Anderson v. Dunn, 1821, the legitimacy of contempt of Congress was summarized this way: “The argument [that Congress has not the power to punish for contempt] obviously leads to the total annihilation of the power of the House of Representatives to guard itself from contempts, and leaves it exposed to every indignity and interruption that rudeness, caprice, or even conspiracy, may meditate against it. This result is fraught with too much adsurdity not to bring into doubt the soundness of any argument from which it is derived.”

I’ve written to you in the past, calling your attention to subjects upon which we disagree. But Congressman, I need you to seriously consider how you will react in this matter. Because this goes beyond partisanship. Surely, you must understand that any executive allowances you make for this standing President will fall into the hand’s of his successor.

So I ask you, what are you going to do about it? Are you going to stand up for the power your own Congress so rightfully wields?

And if not, why?

Thank you for your time,

Thomas L. Strickland
Alpharetta, Georgia

I’ll let you know if I hear anything in reply. A bit of a softball, this letter? Perhaps. I could’ve just as easily taken the “If you do nothing, I’ll never vote Republican again” approach. But considering the fact that I haven’t felt the least bit Republican since 1988 — looking at Dukakis, who can blame me? — this seemed like the better direction.

If you’re a bit lost about this whole executive privilege thing, catch up …

Bolsheviks Stole My Post’s Title

Rep. Martin Scott (from Rossville, next door neighbor to my own hometown) is concerned gravely about the possible spread of Islamo-Fascism in Georgia’s prisons. Jen has a brief, but intelligent post about the possible ill effects of proposed pro-active legislation to curtail such recruitment.

My response, however, is far more immature.

In ur washrooms, breedin ur bolshevikists.

Neo-Cons On The High Seas

Johann Hari is a brave man. After spending a summer cruise with über-conservative contributors to (and paying readers of) National Review, he’s contributed an incredible article to The Independent.

I am standing waist-deep in the Pacific Ocean, both chilling and burning, indulging in the polite chit-chat beloved by vacationing Americans. A sweet elderly lady from Los Angeles is sitting on the rocks nearby, telling me dreamily about her son. “Is he your only child?” I ask. “Yes,” she says. “Do you have a child back in England?” she asks. No, I say. Her face darkens. “You’d better start,” she says. “The Muslims are breeding. Soon, they’ll have the whole of Europe.”

Read on …

What’s With Lily?

(High geek content here. The Harry Potter kind. Tread carefully.)

Three days and counting. I hate to admit it, but I’m looking forward to the merciful release of the final tome in the Potter septology. We’re getting our copy on Saturday, though I won’t be getting my shot at the text until after Nikki finishes her read of it.

Around this time last year, I made a concerted effort to catch the hell up on my Potter reading. I’d dropped the series a few years previously, about a tenth of the way through Prisoner Of Azkaban. At the time, I just couldn’t deal with yet another horrible pre-school summer with the Dursley’s. But given the fact that I’m surrounded by Potter-philes at home, at work, in theatre and, well, just about everywhere, getting up to speed became absolutely necessary.

So over the course of a couple of months, I burned through Azkaban, Goblet Of Fire and Order Of The Phoenix. But after a few chapters of Half-Blood Prince, I had to take a break. I knew I’d come back to it, but after so much solid Rowling reading, I could tell exactly what she was trying to do. After keeping Albus Dumbledore so distant and cold toward Harry through most of Order, she opens Half-Blood Prince with a much kinder, friendlier headmaster. Restored was the Dumbledore that Harry had been missing, one of the few adults who’d ever treated him like family. And this time, they’d be working side-by-side. The reignited friendship suited the story, surely, but was also a massive emotional set up for the way the sixth book ended.

With the final book closing in, I decided a few weeks ago to finish Half-Blood Prince. I figured that life after Deathly Hallows would be unbearable without context, so it seemed the safest course of action. For the most part, I liked book six, though some of the reveals struck me as odd. Namely, the identity of the titular prince … that still doesn’t feel right to me.

And here’s another thing, something that maybe will be addressed in book seven. Throughout book six, Professor Slughorn keeps expressing his admiration for Harry’s “talents” in potions making (actually hints cribbed from the notes left in the Half-Blood Prince’s used textbook) by declaring how much Harry is just like his mother, Lily. He does this many times, so much so that I thought we were being somehow set up to learn that Lily was the previous owner of the text book. But this turns out to not be the case.

So what I’m wondering is … what’s with Lily? Why would Rowling have her brought up so often and so admiringly by Slughorn, only to not make anything more of it in book six? Does this mean that Harry’s late mother will be key to his success or failure in book seven?

Bad And Worse

Bad is going to a restaurant you really enjoy, one that you’d only recently discovered, only to suffer the slings and arrows of food poisoning later that same day. That happened to me five years ago, having enjoyed (whilst eating it) hot-buttered soul chicken at Five Star Day in Athens. It’s particularly bad because any future involvement with Five Star Day will be over-shadowed by the illness.

Worse, however, is cooking dinner for yourself and a loved one, a meal that you thought turned out quite nice, only to realize some hours later that something was terribly amiss. One thing that such sickness provides is plenty of time to ponder the hows and whys, kind of like a culinary CSI. My guess is that I ate some undercooked turkey. Having following the recipe on the back of the pack of filets, I think their estimate of two minutes a side then five minutes to simmer is a bit lacking in the required time department. Luckilly, of the two filets, mine was thicker, meaning that Nikki’s meal was cooked all the way through. And yes, I did check to see if the meat was pink or not. It was not pink. It was white.

Nikki stayed up with me until I don’t know when. She’s wonderful that way. Eventually, I was able to lie down and get something like sleep, provided I was on my stomach and flat as can be. Daksha slept next to me for a bit, though I suspect that was because I was covered in his favorite blanket.

This morning, I’m still feeling … well … tentative is the best word, I think.

Note to self … buy a meat thermometer. Heck, as bad as I felt, you’re all getting meat thermometers for Christmas.