Happy Pride Saturday!  Since lately, marching from my front door to the mailbox is painfully demanding, I thought I'd settle for figuratively running my mouth instead.  As the grand-daughter (as well as the niece of several) Southern Baptist preachers, I've heard a Bible story or twelve.  I have a passing familiarity with two favorite biblical references of rabid anti-gay protesters.  Putting aside the interminable list of no-no's of Leviticus (or, as I like to call it, The Book of If God Was More OCD Than Adrian Monk) there's that other little story in Genesis. You know the one.  About the two corrupt cities that God made go all kablooey. Real Bible scholars (I'm not one...duh) often insist the actual crime of Sodom & Gomorrah's residents was more inhospitality than homosexuality, but that's not my issue with using this tale as a God-Certified Moral Compass.

Everyone remembers the angelic visitors, and the hostile townsfolk, and how Lot was the only really, really, really, really, REALLY good guy in the whole bloody municipality who deserved to have his family survive the imminent conflagration.  The Bible likes Lot a whole...uh...lot.  He's a great guy.  Stellar.  Pillar of the community.  Not as much of a pillar as his wife eventually becomes (salt), but still, God's Golden Boy.  People remember the fiery destruction of the cities (is it redundant to call it Biblical Destruction?) and the Lot clan (minus aforementioned disobedient wife) safely escaping.  But how is it that this chapter's biggest fans never mention what radio personality Paul Harvey used to call "The REST of the Story"?  'Cause the saga of Lot and his surviving family doesn't end there.  Oh, no.  What transpires next for Lot, that Paragon of Virtue, is a story not wholly unfamiliar, although in more modern times, it's usually prefaced by the words:  Dear Penthouse...

Remember yet?