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By Betty Bowers | November 29, 2001

Make no mistake: The assault is on. Hollywood is coming after the hearts of our children with tales of mystical powers even more appealing than those in the Bible — which, frankly, isn’t terribly difficult. In a cagey attempt to go after the coveted 8-18 market, the new Harry Potter movie is teaching children that they — not unemployed adults like 1990’s slacker-chic Jesus — have all the power. In the world of Harry Potter, children wave 11-inch rods to cast spells and routinely backtalk adults. In the Old Testament, adults use 11-inch rods to beat the stuffing out of children (Proverbs 13:24) – and stone them to death if they backtalk (Deuteronomy 21:18-21). Clearly, J. K. Rowling has a defter touch than our Lord when it comes to writing a book that children will kneel before their beds at night and pray is true.
What barely literate Church of God mother, wishing to homeschool her children about Jesus on plastic-laminated card tables in her damp unfinished basement, stands a chance against the lush glittering allure of the grandly furnished, gothic Hogwarts Academy? Yes, Hogwarts is similar to Christian academies in that no time is squandered teaching history, literature and science (and there are few unsightly non-Caucasian children) but, sadly, that is where the similarity ends!
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), wearing a Dorothy Hamill unisex hairstyle resurrected from the 1970’s by America’s First Lady Laura Bush, is Jesus Killer Rowling’s (and you wonder why she goes by her initials!) homosexual recruitment poster-boy. How do we know he is a depraved homosexual? Well, he’s English. Furthermore, when he lives with his dreadful Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, he sleeps “in the closet.” (I never claimed that secular imagery was anymore subtle than our own!) As Harry becomes more attuned to his satanic powers, he comes “out of the closet” and befriends Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane), an old biker “bear” of lascivious intentions.
If there is any question that Harry is a homo, it is settled once and for all when he flees the dreadfully decorated (even by middle class British standards!) home of his Muggle foster family, the Dursleys. What is the first thing he does? He goes shopping! Making the rounds at the exclusive boutiques of Diagon Alley Outlet Mall, Harry picks out flamboyant accessories for a foppish wardrobe full of flowing gowns and hats so ludicrous they would be unthinkable outside of a black church. Like all Nancy-Boys, he becomes fascinated with 11-inch cylindrical objects he can hold in his hand and spends much of the film flying around with a pole wedged between the cheeks of his bottom. Indeed, the producers of the film were apparently so concerned that Harry sound as fey as possible, when Daniel Radcliffe’s voice broke, they dubbed it with the most effeminate voice since Shirley Temple was potty-trained — the notorious pederast Michæl Jackson, using the smirky stage name of Joe Sowerbutts.
Get the rest of this feature in part three of HARRY POTTER: A TICKET STRAIGHT TO HELL>>>

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