Saturday, April 14, 2018

     A letter from a Boomer to Millennials

                                           Nov.10, 2016  
                                                                                   by Chris Noonan Funnell

My mother’s heart goes out to the Millennials, my children’s generation, who feel disenfranchised by a Donald Trump presidency even though democracy functioned and half of the electorate chose Trump on November 8th. Yet on November 9th major U.S. cities saw thousands of Millennials take to the streets in protest shouting “Not my President!”
If only we conservatives of the Boomer generation had done that eight years ago when we woke up to an Obama Presidency. Many of us were just as horrified by BHO’s election, not because of skin color but character. We knew he would bring in Chicago-style politics/crime in the name of community, spouting anti-American sentiments to our utter horror.
Yet for eight long years on a daily basis, Obama assailed our deeply held beliefs and disenfranchised us until we believed he was a Manchurian candidate, a Gollum for Sauron, bent on destroying the very foundations of our nation and culture.
The educational system you grew up in had already been infiltrated and breached by secularists and Marxists. Political correctness became the universal language, the Mainstream Media became the interpreter, shepherd and purveyors of the party line dancing off with our beloved children.
I heard one immigrant say in disbelief today amidst the protestors, “They are protesting Democracy!”
 Above your shouting you may not hear the voice of reason, but I hope you hear us via social media before you tear apart the fabric of our God-given liberty and our Constitution.
Listen to those who have lived longer and have more perspective! We chose Trump not because we are, as our accusers say, racist, bigoted, xenophobe haters, though there are some in both camps, but to finally draw a line in the sand. We want to return to our Judeo-Christian roots, not as religious fanatics but because we believe those roots provide the best and free-est stability for mankind.
 We have experienced a just and merciful God who has shown us The Way, but the family of man, has wandered and rebelled almost to the point of no return.  We have not protested effectively when lawless leadership substituted unjust man-centered laws for God’s commands.  We have seen the sickening fruit of lawlessness and oppression; a generation has grown up to be selfish, hard-hearted and cynical.
 The cruel disposal of 60 million unwanted babies and the harvesting of their body parts for profit screams for our attention. This crime alone is enough to condemn us all. We should have protested louder or prayed sooner and longer rather than let this happen but not enough of us did.  However on November 8th, after 43 years of mayhem, we said “it is enough”, prayed for forgiveness and voted with our consciences. We did it by the ballot box and we did it in prayer on our knees or while stuck in traffic, silently confessing our sin of omission and asking for one more chance, for our kids’ and grandchildren’s sake, so they can know how great and good God’s dream is for America and the world.
 We asked for a reset knowing God is merciful and quick to forgive if we humbly ask.  I am begging you, rebel protester, ask Him to reset your heart and find peace and trust for the future…November 8th is proof, God answers prayer.

Chris Noonan Funnell, freelance writer, columnist

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

I have written a memoir of my childhood Easter in Revere MA when I was 3 years old approximately.

The Easter Bunny is a Jack-a-lope
As I lay in bed feverish and about to fall asleep I saw him from behind as he jumped over the backyard fence, his white cotton tail reflecting moonlight. Is this where the term ‘mooning’ came from? He was small, brown with big bunny ears tilted back for speed. He carried no Easter baskets for other children. He must have brought mine and two for my older brothers. I suppose he was headed back to his stash to cover the rest of the neighborhood. Like Santa Claus he had a lot of ground to cover before dawn.
 I did not check to see if my Easter basket was delivered outside my bedroom door because I had one foot in dreamland and being sick with chicken pox I had no appetite for candy anyway.
We lived in Revere in a two-family house across from a fire station. There was an upright piano that came with the apartment which my mom painted chartreuse, her favorite color. I was told there was no room for a horse in the back yard despite my continual pleading. We lived in this house a block from a private beach within walking distance to my grandparent’s house and the small Catholic church we attended. It was a comfortable community with a fair amount of Jews which established my preference for Bulkie Rolls which were called Kaiser Rolls in other places.
Point of Pines did not have a lot of pine trees. They must have cut them all down to build houses. On the other side of the Lynnway lived Nanny and Papa in a small cape that looked just like all the other houses in what some called the “Cardboard Village” because it was quickly built to accommodate all the GI’s coming home form WWII which my grandparents somehow qualified for due to Papa’s stint in the Navy long before the war. I heard they paid something like $3K for the house, that wouldn’t even make a down payment today. They loved living only a block from the water and made friends with all their neighbors and took in stray cats, making sure all the pets that got killed crossing the Lynnway had a proper burial in their yard.
It was April 1950 and chicken pox was in bloom and I was quarantined in my bedroom by the doctor who made house calls.
My mom was pregnant with my sister Valerie. Mom was enjoying having a little girl after two boys and bought me a special coat outfit for Easter. It must have been a chilly April because it was made of sea green wool with matching leggings and bonnet. It was not what you would typically think of for Easter but being only three, I was thrilled to have a special outfit which was probably picked up by Nana who worked at Filene’s in Boston. My new outfit hung on a hanger from the curtain rod over the window which had the shade pulled all day to prevent the light from hurting my eyes which I guess could get pox on them judging by all the time I spent in a darkened room lonely and bored with no one to play with. Maybe that’s why the Saturday night before Easter, I lifted the shade and saw a bunny hopping over the back fence and out of sight.
Sickness was a time when my Mom was an extra good mom. She knew I was sad to be missing the family activities and unable to even try on a scratchy wool outfit. The solid fudge egg from Fanny Farmer’s decorated with pastel flowers and leaves sat in its box. A white porcelain diaper pail was positioned next to my bed in case I got sicker.
Forty Aprils later, I was a mother myself with three sons all taking turns with Chicken pox. First the 8 year-old gets a mild case, number two son gets a much worse case followed by the baby who got it the worst, but at least he felt like one of the gang and we all got through it somehow over the five long weeks. I documented it all taking pix of them in their Underoos holding little slate that said Chicken Pox 1989.
No Easter baskets have ever been delivered to our kids much as I miss the solid fudge egg and the fuzzy little chicks that decorated my basket. Even though I saw Mr. Easter Bunny with my own eyes I realize now it was probably a dream.
Today I realize this cultural concoction is more of a Jack-o-lope; a patching together of Pagan and Christian religions. Have you ever seen a Jack-o-lope driving through western states where they have them stuffed for display in gas stations and depicted on post cards? They’re a cross between a Jack rabbit and an antelope with antlers.
 Since the Chicken Pox Vaccine became a routine since 1995 fewer kids get them. Now we have other things to worry about. Are the vaccines causing autism, ADHD or the many other diseases and disorders that are on the rise? Should we be more discriminating about what Mr Jack-a-lope delivers? Maybe we should just say ‘no’ to Mr. Jack-o-lope and all the sugar he brings setting kids up for obesity, diabetes and tooth decay.
(I am working on chapter 2 of this topic for our Marriage and Family in the End Times Book)
Chris Noonan Funnell April 11, 2014 

Friday, March 9, 2018

Green Lemonade Stand... March 2018

Green Lemonade Stand 
There’s a battle going on for the soul of our nation and the soul of each one of us.  It is TBD (To be determined) whether our nation can pull it together and survive, let alone thrive, but for each individual there is always hope. That was the message of  St. Patrick and that hope remains today. “Hope springs eternal” is a phrase from the Alexander Pope poem:  An Essay on Man
Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never is, but always to be blessed:
The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

A more contemporary poem that hung on our wall when our boys were growing up put it this way…
This world is not my home,
Although it seems to be,
My home is with my God
In the place He's made for me.
He's coming back real soon,
The signs are very clear,
So when the final trumpet sounds...
I'LL BE OUTTA HERE!!!!                 Anon.

Mass shootings in schools are a recent sign that things are going south real fast in our nation. Many are up in arms, so to speak, about guns. For some, like me, it is clearly a morality issue, mainly the devaluation of human life resulting in the hardness of heart that countenances tearing an unborn child limb from limb before birth and selling its body parts for profit. Then abortion advocates wave coat hangers and demand taxpayers pay for the carnage even when it is against the strongly held religious convictions of those citizens that human life in the womb is sacred while pointing to guns as the problem.
In the past month we have witnessed demonstrations of very hard hearts in both the Massachusetts Legislature during Governor Baker’s State of the Commonwealth Address and also at the State of the Union Address in DC. The state of both houses are like petrified stone creating an ideological impasse, not so much between political parties as between the Judeo-Christian and the Radical Progressive mindset which has taken over the Democrat Party (to which I belonged until 1980).

The latter has decided to reject and resist the duly elected President of the United States and engage in a verbal coup; in effect resist the will of the people who have chosen Trump because of his more traditional, conservative beliefs. This was demonstrated as Republican Governor Charlie Baker, in his State of the Commonwealth address, recounted the Commonwealth’s many accomplishments over the year including protecting “Women’s Reproductive Rights” (read Abortion on demand while ignoring the rights of defenseless children in the womb) to which seemingly the whole Statehouse stood and proudly applauded. Those few who opposed were lost in the crowd. Though Pro-abortionists are standing tall at the moment a time is coming when they shall answer to their Creator for the killing of those made in the image of God.  

Those who were not standing and applauding state-funded abortions seemed invisible but they will be standing and shining brightly on Judgment Day when the tares are taken away as a reckoning awaits the wicked proponents of abortion who will be cast into the black hole of sin forever. 

I know some might find this laughable as they do on ABC’s toxic talk show, The View. Host Joy Behar called our Vice-President “mentally ill” because he prays to God showing her state of debauchery and ignorance, yet there is still hope if there is change. 
The same hateful pro-death attitude was on display on the left-leaning side of the US Congress. President Trump’s State of the Union addressed a house that was anything but unified when Democrats would not stand to honor families who suffered great loss but rather sat like sullen teenagers sucking on lemons. Their hatred and disrespect for our American way of life was on display for the entire nation to see and will be their downfall come November.

Our schools are under siege to those who would indoctrinate our kids with hate against our American values, subsume parental rights and herd our children into slavery. Everywhere you look someone is looking for a quick buck and more power; Lining up for marijuana sales rather than considering the impact upon our youth. Pushing abortion for the pound of flesh they will harvest and sell to big Pharma which makes vaccines from aborted babies. Media pushes a nearly useless (perhaps even harmful) flu vaccine with daily flu-death tolls and horror stories. 

These sell-outs want no borders or walls but rather “sanctuary cities” not out of the goodness of their hearts but to amass a voting block to keep them perpetually in power. These traitors are the antithesis of patriots, they are anarchists.
Toxic feminists are their own worst enemy as if by claiming #me too they can dispense with due process. Do we really want to return to the days before ‘innocent until proven guilty’?

There could not be such widespread deception in our populace without the collusion of the mainstream media and billionaire moguls like Soros and the Clinton crime syndicate who have created a narrative stranger than fiction. Only the deluded would believe it. Call it Kool-Aid drinking but here at the headwaters of the swamp it is bitter green lemonade they swill as it flows down to DC.

*See Green Lemonade and Tears published in 2002 in MWDN and updated  on my March 2011 blog

Monday, February 19, 2018

Princess Sumerfall-Winterspring and the Fadoozla Machine

When I was growing up we watched Howdy Doody on TV. There was a fake Indian named Princess SummerFallWinterSpring. She wore dark face make-up because she was a fair skinned actress with blue eyes. She left the show suddenly promising she would one day come back but we in the peanut gallery are still waiting. I think Liz Warren has tapped into the Peanut Gallery's subconscious desire for the return of childhood. Grow up peanuts and get a real senator! 

Hat tip to Factacular... you remember?
Double Doody--Howdy Doody’s twin brother
Heidi Doody--Howdy Doody’s sister
Phineas T Bluster--The grumpy major
Hector Hancock--One of Phineas’ triplet brothers
Flub-A-Dub--Made of eight different animals
Dilly Dally--The carpenter
Cornelius Cobb--Ran the general store
John J Fadoozle--World’s Number One Private Eye
Bob Smith--Buffalo Bob Smith
Bob Keeshan--Clarabelle
Peanut Gallery--The audience
Doodyville--Fictional hometown of Howdy Doody
William Shatner--Temporarily played Ranger Bob
Cowabunga!--Chief Thundercloud’s yell
Puppet Playhouse--The original name of the Howdy Doody Show
Ta Ra Ra Boom Dee Ay--Melody of the Howdy Doody song
The Triple B Ranch--Forerunner to what became the Howdy Doody Show
Gabby Hayes--Guest host in 1954--Buffalo Bob suffered a heart attack
“Goodbye, kids”--Clarabelle’s only spoken words--She said it very softly to sign off the last show
Frank Paris--Designer of the original Howdy marionette
Dilly Dally--Wiggled his ears when frustrated
Electromindomizer--A machine that could read minds
Honkadoodle--A machine that translated Mother Goose honks into English
Robert Goulet--Played Timber Tom on the Canadian show
Robert Schmidt--Buffalo Bob Smith’s real name
Princess Summerfall Winterspring--Hailed from the fictional Tinka Tonka tribe

Friday, May 5, 2017

National Day of Prayer at Boston State House in the Great Hall

National Day of Prayer was observed in the Massachusetts     State House May 4th at noon