Is God punishing the people of the Midwest with floods and heavy rains for going to church too often and constantly bothering him with their prayers?
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Gays wed; God yawns
By Rex W. Huppke
June 22, 2008
On the West Coast, men embraced men as husband and husband, and bouquet-clutching women swapped bands of gold and vows of marriage. In the Midwest, floodwaters rose to epic levels, the dreaded, tree-gobbling ash borer crept into Chicago and the fish in Lake Michigan began dying by the thousands, hemorrhaging from an Ebola-like virus.
The contrast was striking—joy vs. pain. It raised one simple, inescapable question: What happened to God hating gay people?
If there's one thing the country's higher-profile evangelical Christian preachers have preached to us, it's that the Almighty doesn't much care for those of the non-heterosexual persuasion. He has punished America for its acceptance of gay people by, among other things, walloping sin-ravaged New Orleans with Hurricane Katrina, allowing the Sept. 11 attacks on New York and Washington, and letting Idaho Sen. Larry Craig and his wide stance inject anxiety into the whole bathroom stall experience.
But last week was enough to make us question the infallibility of unbiased holy men such as Pat Robertson, John Hagee and the one-time-meth-using, male-prostitute-visiting-but-now-TOTALLY-non-gay pastor Ted Haggard.
So after California committed the abomination of allowing people who love each other to get married, why would God lash out at the honest, hardworking, morally upright, down-home, God-fearing folks in middle America? Why wouldn't he just shove California into the ocean and let it rot, like a big, gay Alcatraz?
Perhaps, fellow Midwesterners, there's something we've been keeping from ourselves. Perhaps the rains and floods and tornadoes, the tree-eating bugs and the diseased fish and Mayor Daley's decision to relocate the Children's Museum to Grant Park are all punishment.
Perhaps we're all gay, a closeted bunch of flaming farmers and factory workers, lesbian lawyers and landscapers and man-loving butchers and bondsmen. Maybe we're gay, and the people that were already gay are even gayer!
Maybe this weekend's Crosstown Classic is just an elaborate ruse, a supposed baseball game that will turn into a stadium-size gay wedding extravaganza at Wrigley Field.
This madness must be stopped.
Quick, does anyone have the number for Robertson's 700 Club hot line? If so, let yourself be heard.
Just shout out: "I do."
Rex W. Huppke is a Tribune reporter.
rhuppke@tribune.com