I AM AN ASS

I am an ass. Many already know this.

I am an ass with opinions.

The biggest reason I am an ass is my total lack of realizing how I succumbed to the media frenzy and coffee shop banter regarding the global refugee crisis.

So, simply put, I do not believe ALL Muslims are barbaric pedophile animals.  

When you see or read my rants concerning Muslims, I am referring to the RADICAL, EXTREMISTS and the refugees who use “Allah” and their so-called “faith” as an excuse to blatantly commit crimes.

I am referring to those who beg to come to a foreign country claiming they no longer want to live the lifestyle of their homeland.  Upon arrival as “refugees” they immediately begin playing the prejudice card and demanding the HOST country change THEIR TRADITIONS AND VALUES to accommodate their lifestyles.  The very lifestyles they are supposedly fleeing.

I am referring to the RADICAL Islamics who tell the very people who are attempting to help them that they will soon be squashed like bugs and obliterated. “Death to all infidels”.

I am an ass.

I am an ass who if I were seeking refugee status in any country I would gladly assimilate to THEIR ways and traditional lifestyle.  

Why would I carry the oppression and violence with me to a new life? 

LET US SIMPLIFY THIS BY EXPLAINING IT THIS WAY  ……………………………..

MARY IS IN A VERY VIOLENT, ABUSIVE MARRIAGE.  SHE DECIDES, AFTER YET ANOTHER SEVERE BEATING, TO SEEK ASYLUM IN A BATTERED WOMEN’S SHELTER. 

THE SHELTER TELLS HER,  ‘WE WILL PROTECT AND SHELTER YOU. BUT, YOU MUST ABIDE BY THE RULES OF OUR INSTITUTION’.

SO, MARY ARRIVES WITH HER CHILDREN AND ALL THE BELONGINGS SHE COULD CARRY.

THE SHELTER IS COUNSELING AND ASSISTING MARY.

MARY DEMANDS THAT THEY ALLOW HER ABUSIVE HUSBAND TO COME LIVE IN THE SHELTER WITH HER. SHE ACCUSES THE SHELTER OF RACISM FOR NOT ALLOWING HER TO LIVE AS SHE DID IN THE ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP. “

Should the shelter change it’s rules and allow Mary to live as she was before, but, under the roof of an institution whose core values are totally against such a violent lifestyle? 

My beef is not with Muslims or Islamic faiths in general.  

My problem is with the terrorists, the extremists and those who use the guise of religion to hide murder, dishonesty and pedophilia.  Those who truly believe that all Jewish, Catholic, Protestants and basically all “non – Muslim” are to be brutally murdered. 

Those who believe it is ok to cane and whip women. Those who believe it is Allah’s wish to sell children and have sex with mere babies. 

I am furious that Islamic terrorists are using “RELIGION” as a basis for their insane mission to destroy us.

I am curious that the majority of refugees are males between the ages of nineteen and forty-five. Oddly, the average ages for soldiers.  Soldiers who should be at home fighting for their lifestyle and ways of living.

Refugees should be women and children, the wounded and elderly. Not young men running amuck in gang fashion terrorizing the very people who are attempting to help them. 

So, to all you Muslims who live peacefully amongst their fellow humans, I say thank you for being human.

To all you Islamic terrorists and Muslims who are hiding their true agendas, “Stay in your homeland.  Rape and kill your own people.  Don’t bring your barbaric lifestyles to my home.”

In these modern ages, mankind must realize that all religions are merely groups of people looking for a some normalcy and meaning in life.

Religion and politics should never mix. Yet, religion is politics.  Politics are a religion. Both are gangs of people who believe their way is the only way.

Until we can learn to understand that hatred and jealousy can bring no good. Until we all can comprehend that you cannot kill me  just because I don’t believe what you may believe – until we can look at each other as just “humans” – until that day, many years from now, we will still just be predatory animals bound to destroy each other.

Humans are infantile creatures of Earth. We are still evolving into what the Creator’s had envisioned we should become. 

But, evolution is as slow as a grandmother making her morning tea.

And we live in a world running like a high speed train going downhill in an ice storm.

Unless we change our CORE VALUES we will soon be squashed by nature.

Human nature – the most horrific of all natures.

I remain, Dann – just as I am. 

GUARDIAN ANGELS DO EXIST 

​So, once again my beautiful Irish Guardian Angel, Sheena Eve has touched me. 

As most you know, I have had nine various surgeries and invasive procedures since last November.  Many of these for very painful implantations or removal of said implants.

This past Friday I had two stents and two ungodly long drainage tubes removed. In previous similar processes, I would be screaming and writhing in unbearable pain. 

But;

At my surgical procedure, this time,  a woman I had met there before, Joyce; who has terminal  cancer, passes me a lace bag with an Angel Stone and tells me,  

“You won’t feel any pain Dann” 

And I never felt a thing. 

Angels do exist ….

Maybe not in your  Biblical belief or in any “religious” perception. 

But, in a SPIRITUAL existence Angels do exist.

RELIGIONS ARE MANMADE.

“SPIRITUALLY” COMES FROM OUR INNER SOUL. 

I received the name   “LightHouse” shortly after my after-death experiences. 

(I wrote many blogs concerning my seven times legally declared ‘dead’. Such as my 2008 blog, “I Committed Suicide Once”)

https://lighthousedannverner.wordpress.com/2012/10/16/i-committed-suicide-once-originally-published-july-2008/?preview=true

OR THIS ONE WHICH BRIEFLY DESCRIBES MY AFTER-DEATH EXPERIENCES ….

https://lighthousedannverner.wordpress.com/2016/05/06/this-is-what-happened-when-i-died/?preview=true

After my return from death,  I began to have strong premonitions that ALWAYS became truths. 

An equal blend of good and bad experiences. 

After the death of my beautiful friend, Sheena Eve, much  changed in my life. 

Everyday I would somehow receive a message from her.  

Be it as simple as three Morning Doves on my window sill or her actual presence, holding my hand as I went through traumatic surgery or difficult times.

This is my Guardian Angel, my beautiful Irish Queen,  Sheena Eve Edmunds ….

Many will disbelieve and question what I am saying. Some will believe. 

I know the truth is we are existing in this space/time continuum and I have been Blessed to have crossed over into other continuums during my deaths.

Heaven and Hell do NOT exist as perceived in pagan ‘Holy Books’.

There is no Valhalla.

There is definitely not a bunch of virgins.

There are seven paths to seven destinations or ‘continuums’.

BUT, THAT IS FOR US TO EXPLORE ON ANOTHER DAY. 

Today, I just wanted to acknowledge that I believe in Angels …

For,  I have been caressed by my beautiful Guardian Angel,  my Irish Queen, Sheena Eve. 

She has walked with me through my good times AND carried me through my hard times. 

Those of us who are Blessed to know her, know she has never left our side.

AND I AM GRATEFUL AND HONOURED. 

Until we sit at the round once again my beautiful Irish Queen,  I shall remain, Dann, just as I am.  

I am forever grateful that YOU have chosen to “Walk with Dann” and guide me to safety and Light.

These tears I wipe are those of joy not of sadness and despair.  The joy of calling you ‘friend’ and the joys of knowing you are still here. 

I CRY AT NIGHT 

I cry at night. I cry during daylight hours, also.  

But my daylight tears are dry and concealed by fake smiles and forced humour. 

My nighttime tears are lonely for they escape while no other person is near. 

They are like tiny fugitives sneaking from my eyes,  burning pathways of despair and shame. Leaving damp roadways of pain and guilt as they trickle down my face and splash painfully onto my chest to form a tiny pool of anguish in the indentation directly above my heart.

Since my unplanned birth that fifth day of October, 1957, I have cried. 

Are newborns aware of what their lives are to be? 

Was I aware that my parents would nickname me “Boo Boo”?

The constant reminder that my existence was a nusence. An unplanned mistake most likely the result of intoxicated fueled lust.

Did infant Danny know that day that he was not wanted? 

That of the three children of Mr. and Mrs. H.Verner it would be he who would be tossed to the wolves of foster care?

Was baby Boo Boo aware that by ten years of age he would have lived in thirty two homes?

I could guess he did by looking back at his life.

I never knew what it was like to say the words “Mom” or “Dad”. I can barely remember the first ten years of my life. Memories of physical abuse, tears upon my pillows and wondering why I didn’t have the same name as the people I lived with are clear.

Memories of bedwetting and pants soiled with feces.  Vague pictures of being placed in galvanized wash tubs full of ice water, welts upon my legs and buttocks . All the joys of childhood.

Not a single memory of allowing any man or woman to force tears from my eyes. The true ‘boy who never cried’.

Recollections of many a psychological interrogation and Catholic social workers explaining how good boys go to good homes.

I never had a birthday party or gift that I remembered. 

No, I am not capable of unlocking those first ten years.  Forever sealed in a highly classified “for my eyes only” recess of my subconscious. 

I definitely remember burning down the foster home the day after I was sat down in the back yard and told that the man before me was my father and the blonde haired older boy who I recognized from school was my brother. Being told that I had a sister in Toronto.  That this far away city was also where my birth mother lived.

Mother, father, brother, sister?  What was that? I had no base line to form an opinion of such. Was I to believe that “family” was an actual thing? 

So, my first day of life was not October the fifth, 1957. It was July 1967.  The day I moved into my brother and sister’s father’s house.  The day I met the kindest woman I would ever know.  My beloved “stepmother”. God rest her beautiful soul. I never called or thought of her as my “step”  parent for she was a true mother. The only mother I knew. The only adult in my short ten years who didn’t torture or belittle me.

I sort of remember my father. Fond memories of seeing him asleep, hugging the toilet bowl as I entered the bathroom to have my morning tinkle. Childhood pictures of my kindly step mom, who often chose to wear a black eye.

By 1969, at the age of twelve, I had decided family life was not my cup of tea. Glue sniffing,  heroin and every other drug were fun. So were guns and violence.  

The hippie bug bit my brother and I and we joined the Awarehouse. Saint John, New Brunswick’s only hippie commune. I made incense and Brother Ernie made candles. I also made needle marks along my arms and legs.

But, I did not fit the criteria for being a hippie.  Hippies were not violent. Shake, my new name, Shake was violent. Shake’s friends, much older than he, Noel, Gigi and Johnnie were also violent.  Drugs became the breast milk for my emotionally starved heart. Guns and explosives became my toys. Motorcycles and leather my diapers. 

I even had a vacation home in Dorchester Penitentiary and another one in beautiful Springhill, Nova Scotia.  They were gated communities with all the amenities a drug crazed violent rebel needed. A bed! Clean clothes! Three meals each and every day! 

Yes, I remember my teenage and early twenty years.  So, unfortunately, do the family of my victim. As do the families who unknowingly donated all their treasures to the Shakie Dann Verner drug program.

My release from federal prison and my agreement to never return to my beautiful Saint John brought me to Toronto.  

For the first time in my life I actually got to say the words “This is my Mom”.

But, only for a year for after I finally was blessed to meet and grow to love her, well,  she got brutally murdered by an ex-boyfriend.  I didn’t cry then.

I cry now. At night when the darkness surrounds me.  When all of you are sleeping.  I’m crying now.

I am crying because it is night.  

I am crying because no one can see or hear me cry. 

I am crying because soon I will be sixty and soon I will be too aged not to cry during the cover of darkness. 

I am crying because I am a lonely old man who only ever wanted a family. But, how does someone who never knew of “families” become a “family” man? 

Tomorrow I will write about the path of Shakie in the 1980’s becoming his version of a failed “Dad” and how this broken man became “LightHouse Dann Verner”. The man who cries too often.

But for now, I cry at night. 

I am the lonely man who serves no purpose. 


I AM DUMBFOUNDED 

I am dumbfounded by my fellow Canadians and how they will not band together to get these Liberal traitorous Islamic sympathizers out of office.

We Canadians are famous for our passive attitudes. Unfortunately,  it will be our downfall. 

In my fifty-nine years and seven months of living, I have never been so ashamed of our government and elected officials.  

I have never been so embarrassed to be Canadian. 

I will never understand why Canada has become the hub for Western world terrorism.  We are the epicentre for unvetted and illegal immigrants and by being such WE ARE ENDANGERING ALL OTHER COUNTRIES. 

LOOK AT EUROPE PEOPLE.  THINK HOW THESE “PEACEFUL” MUSLIMS HAVE BEEN BRUTALLY BUTCHERING PEOPLE FOR BEING NON-MUSLIM FOR OVER A THOUSAND YEARS. 

AND THEN ASK YOURSELF,

“Am I going to allow this traitorous pig Trudeau,  the Bastard son of Fidel Castro,  to destroy my homeland? “


TRUDEAU HAS NO QUALMS ABOUT ENDANGERING CANADIANS …  Senate passes bill that repeals many Conservative citizenship changes – The Globe and Mail

https://beta.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/senate-passes-bill-that-would-repeal-many-many-conservative-citizenship-changes/article34890037/?ref=http://www.theglobeandmail.com&service=mobile

SO TORONTO – ARE WE ALL OK WITH HAVING A MAN WHO WAS WILLING TO KILL SOME OF US, BEING ALLOWED TO WALK OUR STREETS????

DO YOU THINK TRUDEAU CARES???? 

TRUDEAU IS AN UNDERCOVER SLEEPER CELL RADICAL ISLAMIC EXTREMISM TRAITOR! !!!!

FRACK HIM AND HIS TERRORIST FRIENDS.

AND WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE SO-CALLED “PEACEFUL” MUSLIMS? WHY ARE THEY NOT BEHEADING THESE RADICALS????

BE A COLD DAY IN HELL BEFORE I RIDE THE SUBWAY.

Is this not “treason”????

What the frack is wrong with all of us????  This Quebecois Traitorous Bastard has to go!!!!!

Is this not “treason”????

Trudeau should have his citizenship revoked and be deported back to his native village in the mountains of Afghanistan. 

Fracking TRAITOR! !!!!!!

Quoted from the article …..

“The rationale for Trudeau’s platitude that a “Canadian is a Canadian is a Canadian”—even if that “Canadian” is a foreign-born agent convicted of terrorism—was never clear.”

http://m.torontosun.com/2017/05/05/trudeau-citizenship-law-is-win-for-toronto-18-terrorist-and-loss-for-canada#.WRDGcqQ0SJk.facebook

All Canadians Need To Read This

​http://www.martiniforpm.com/2016/12/23/trudeau-the-traitor/

Take a "Walk With Dann" through the expanse of his mind

Take a walk

Photo, Soccer, Cooking, Essay, Poem

My perfectly imperfect journey.

Come and take a ride with me as I share my journey from scarcity to abundance.

The Crack Indian

Inspire the World

Asma

Paper and ink

Grady P Brown - Author

Superheroes - Autism - Fantasy - Science Fiction

The Ignited Mind !

"If you are resolutely determined to make a lawyer of yourself, the thing is more than half done already" - Abraham Lincoln.

Finding Purpose

Insights on thriving in the modern world

Is it healthful?

Simple & science backed health tips, product & service reviews.

souravchakraborty13

Writing is very much organic to me . It's just a part of my mood , the urge being the stimulus to write something relevant about life because we all owe to the one life that we have .

Insight & Illusion

Define the Edges

1,000 Stories Behind The Eyes

All Eyes On This #Teen

The Ninth Life

It's time to be inspired, become encouraged, and get uplifted!

A City On A Hill🌟

All For His Glory🌎☄🌟

Le Blog BlookUp

Imprimez et transformez vos contenus digitaux, blogs et réseaux sociaux, en magnifiques livres papier !

Tangible Triumph

Motivation, Inspiration, Life

The Evolutionary Mind

Live a Mindful Life, and Stay Motivated

Quill & Parchment

I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good

UnprecedentedNow

For The Curious You

%d bloggers like this: