Dying Dann’s Video Adventures With Death #16

The Writer’s Mind is Mysteriously Deep

Yesterday. I allowed myself to Walk backwards and I allowed the words of others to swallow me into an extremely dark hole of self-pity and depression.

Cancer is a son of a bitch. From my experience it destroys the family.

I learned exactly who gave a damn about me and who  ran like I had Covid 3033 Or  worse.

I think that I may have done something stupid if not for the support of my two Living Angels, my two best friends, Terry and Maria.

They talked to me all night long. I am glad they did. I may, 75% positive, have done something stupid, had they not three way spoke with me.

I only have a handful of people I consider “friends“, others are acquaintances. This is not an abnormal situation. Everyone has their “homies“, the real friends, and their acquainted friends.

The latter being casual friends such as workmates or the cashier at the Cannibis Dispensary.


Dying Dann’s Adventures With Death #13

Am I the sum of my fears?

If this is the truth, then I must discover what those “fears” are.

The Sum of My Subliminal Fears

Are they my obvious fears or are they subliminal ones? The latter being the most dangerous of all. For they are the ones that took me a lifetime to supress.

My heart says I fear not many things. My instincts say that I am lying through my false teeth.

Why do we supress feelings of any sort? Is it geneticly implanted or is it just a “learned” behaviour?

My opinion is that we fear the unknown.

When confronted with our fear we automatically withdraw. Some of us will do so in order to “fall back and regroup”. These are the wise souls.

Others withdraw and bury their emotions deeply into their subconscious. Especially those with preexisting anxiety disorders. They are trapped by their inability to verbalize their behaviour. Their fear causing paralysis. Mentally and physically.

Like the false smiles we often wear to hide our pains and confusions. A mask to hide the fact that we do not know what to or how to seek relief and consolation from our mindset.

False Smiles on Cloudy Days

My “everyday fears” include my greatest fear – Drowning. During my youth I had a very close call with drowning when a foster father put six of us in a jetboat built for two. No life jackets. When he spun the engine to full throttle the craft dove straight down instead of the expected hydroplaning. Luckily I survived. One of the other foster children did not.

So, here we have a fear that can easily be dealt with. Simply stay away from the situations that may put me in the danger of drowning. Yet, even with this solution, I will still encounter times where getting on a boat will be a necessity.

That surpressed fright will surface so fast that anyone within eyesight will be able to say, “That dude is scared crapless.”

Which will make my second most fear come to surface. The fear of people knowing that I am not the “fearless tough guy” they all thought me to be.

I fear the fear of fearing more than anything else.

So, I ask you this, “What fear are you suppressing the most?

What sadness are you hiding behind blue eyes?

I will come back to this topic at a later date. I want to fall back and regroup my thoughts and then I will be able to expose my deepest dreams and fears. Be they nightmares or like something out of Carlos Castanedas “The Art of Dreaming”.

Well, maybe more of a clip from Anthony Burgess’s “A Clockwork Orange.”

Yes, yes, yes. Definitely a Clockwork Orange is a prime example of what is live streaming within the chasms of my eccentric and ecclectic mind.

I will visit my subconscious vault and see what I can discover and what I am surpressing.Deep thoughts .

Deep thoughts take a long shovel to unearth. In my case I may need a large bore mining drill to reach the depths of my inner being.

Dying Dann’s Adventures With Death #11

Is Death overrated?

Why do we all fear ascension?

Am I wrong to look forward to my final day?

I’m not suicidal.
BUT, I’m looking forward to my final death.

Nine times I’ve passed and had to return.

That’s not fair.

I have outlived so many souls that deserved to have outlived me.

I feel guilt.

I feel like I have cheated my friends somehow.

Why have I lived to be sixty-two?

Why did the Creators take my handsome son, Jordan, via a Christmas Day suicide, my beautiful Sheena Eve, my beloved Steve and Danny Delaney, my almost son, Jason Jilks, Jonathan, Dougie, three of my namesake sons, Daniel Juniors, my father and my Mother?

My only answer is, as I’ve stated in blogs and my books, we live seven lives.

We walk seven paths. 7 plains of space/time continuums.

Google seven existences or read the holy books.

(All mention seven )

We are not meant to be aware of this though.

Some, such as I, are cursed by knowing they have walked these walks.

My lighthouse premonitions are a curse.

Eighth walk is a bitch, Boo.

For there is no nineth crack at the bat.

This final stride I must walk is my penance, my own personal Hell laid before me by my own personal Jesus.

Should have listened to my Mother,

“Never trust a gangster.”

But, I was a gangster most my life. I had to trust them.

If I let you into my home I trusted you.

I should have listened to my father-in-law who once told me,

“The only trouble in your home is the trouble YOU let through your door.”

I didn’t take that advice.

I don’t fear life because I don’t fear death and as my autobiography.

“Walk With Dann Collection”

shows, I earned a horrible death.

Here is a prime example of what and how deep I played “The Game.”

Bomb Grade Vests

The Stash

The bags are Heroin, Crystal Meth, Crack Cocaine and Pure Cocaine.

Nice citizens we? NOT!!!

I made my money by storing hundreds of thousands of dollars in drugs. Often storing guns and explosives.

My location was a safe house. The “Vault.”

Perhaps, this will show you how I have changed from being, “Shake Dann Verner” – the extremely dangerous gangster of my youth into The LightHouse Dann”.

I have worked very hard to become a better person. A citizen, but, not a citizen Kane.

We even had the gangster Mercedes complete with a stash box in the back of the passengers seat.

Bullet proof side panels and glass.

We looked great cashing our welfare cheques.

Like I said,

“Nice citizens.”

Don’t fear Death – fear life.

Death is easy, living is difficult.

The universe plays tricks on us.

I live with my sadness and guilt daily.

I will certainly continue to do so.

Yet, I shed tears daily for the souls the Cosmic Muffin stole from me and from their loved ones.

I fear not dying.

I fear living.

Dying is painful, believe me, but it is also easy.

Living is difficult in every way.

Thusly so.

By being so it teaches the necessary life lessons.

I fear the pain of missing those who I’ve outlived.

I have passed through life while more deserving were robbed of such.

My first murder was dismissed by a very expensive lawyer and a short stay in a mental asylum.

Events over the years would make my lawyers wealthy men.

The gods have had their fun with me.

The devils have played their sick tricks.

I’ll not come back the next time.

Follow me if you wish, but don’t walk my path.

I will pass this final time with a foolish grin and a happy heart.

Until that day, I stand as you will for life is a bitter pill.

I wait for my last day. Smiling.

I have had so many, too many lowlife people take pieces from my soul.

This would break the spirit of most people.

I still will give whatever piece of me there is left.

A mere act of kindness and humbleness is priceless in the game we call, “life.”

I am a realist.

My life is too precious to be brought into a depression via actions I can not control.

I find humour in every situation and aspects of my life.

There may be a hurricane on the ground, but, you can rise above the storm clouds..

It is always sunny above the clouds.

I will still trust people.

Not everyone is the same.

The gangsters will have their laughs.

Little do they know what awaits them.

Valhalla is for heroes and warriors.

Helhiem is not.

In closing, may I state, that although I write regarding my past criminal experiences and actions, I am not proud of any of them.

I Pray that my posts, blogs. Vlogs and books will touch one soul and change their life.

“Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Namaste’ my friend.




Dying Dann’s Adventures With Death #10

Often I find myself quite amused by what I observe around me.

I have always been able to “read” people.

A survival instinct brought forth by my leaving home at 12 years old.

To begin my accelerated rush through puberty.

A manchild at 12. Living in a Hippie Drug Commune.

Within two years I would become an opiate junkie.

The Original Urban Viking LightHouse Dann

Long story short……….

My life has always been a numerous collective of poetic tragedies, good times, sad times, love won and love lost.

I am a firm believer in being a true realist.

I am a “REALIST.”

There are no sad/happy times.

There is no “time”.

Time” is but a manmade instrument of measurement. A necessity for society to be able to record history.

It does not exist as we define, “existence“.

Every single moments of your life are just that. Moments. An ink mark on manmade paper with a manmade pen.

From my waking up in the morning and until I lay my head down to sleep, I gleefully gobbled up all and any bites of knowledge I could find.

I developed an insatiable appetite for knowledge.

Like a sneaky toddler who finally gets the cookie jar open.

This need for mindful stimulation replaced my opiate addiction.

Saving my life as far as I am concerned.

You cannot overdose on the daily life lessons that our soon to be “dystopian” society has laid out before you.

At a very young age I had to learn how to read if a person was friend or foe. This was done immediately. As soon as we were introduced.

Had I not, then my life could have been and often was placed in certain danger.

Truth be known, I wouldn’t be here today had I not learned so soon.

I would have succumbed to the dark and dangerous side of streetlife.

Either a murder victim or an overdose.

The latter I have experienced many times.

Narrowly cheating Death too often to count.

Those times where the “Dragon” chased and caught me.

Not vice versa.

We did not have “Naxalone” kits back then.

You overdosed, you spun the wheels of fate.

Technically I have been a “Murder Victim” twice.

Once when a lovely group of motorcycle enthusiasts and I had a slight business debate over the black market price of Valium.

We must have had a very religious talk.

I recall asking for a moment with my God.

I don’t think “He” showed up.

I remember asking for the Catholic Son of God to come to the party.

If he arrived I cannot seem to remember.

It was as if I was swooped up into a surreal tornado of pain and confusion.

I think that when the one eyed nice man accidentally broke his chair on my head I may have blacked out.

(I truly believed and wished he had tried some of the Valium before he got upset.)

Somehow, I ended up laying like a crucified martyr on the yellow line of the McKay Highway in New Brunswick, Canada.

The RCMP, (Royal Canadian Mounted Police), discovered me and I literally breathed my last breathe in the Constable’s arms.

50 miles from the nearest hospital.

Broken leg, arm and fractured skull.

The Constable managed to revive me and applied CPR till the ambulance arrived.

Bless her soul for not walking away from my unconscious form and for her quick response to administer CPR.

The second time was in that cesspool Quebec calls, “Montreal“.

Where systematic racism against all who are not Québécois has and will always be a reality.

Again, I had a mere business argument over the price of a little garbage bag full of a white substance.

Say about 5 kilos worth.

I figured it being in a garbage bag meant it was perhaps unwanted and cheap.

Wouldn’t you believe the same if someone passed you a garbage bag full of a white substance?

Well, apparently I was wrong to assume such.

I also thought I should not have to pay.

I even offered to take the garbage out for them.

Hell, I carried a gun back then.

Hell, I carried two guns back then.

I even showed them my guns.

The guy with the gun and the white hat always wins in the movies.

Right? Always wins.

(Unfortunately, that day, I forgot to wear the white hat.)

A short time after showing them my guns , I was discovered deceased in a laneway next to my hotel.

Funny how, immediately after they heard the sound of the window’s glass shattering, passerbys witnessed me and my chair bouncing down the service laneway.

Thankfully, a good Samaritan was gracious enough to dial the 3 magic digits, 911.

It may have been the extreme beating and/or forced overdose that stopped my heart.


I am inclined to believe that the chair ride held most of the blame.

I believe that when the nice gentlemen picked up the chair they had joyfully tied me to and then accidentally through it with me out the second floor window, well, and this is just my personal belief, mind you, it may have contributed to my temporary demise.

The only time in my life that I was happy to be in Montreal was in the back of that ambulance.

Waking to the cramp from the defibrillator and vomit spewing out of my nose and mouth taught me a lot.


The activated charcoal solution they pumped into my stomach tasted like I had licked the inside of a charcoal barbeque.


I do not like Montreal.

I go into the plane’s toilet and make a healthy bowel movement each and every time I have flown over that itchy city.

My own personal “Mile High Club”.

‘Nuff said. I sound racist. I am not. I “race” for no man.

I never race. I am lazy like that.

So I leave you with this polyl of knowledge…..

Your life and well being is a matter of choosing the right choices.

Choose wisely.

So sayeth The LightHouse Verner

Royal Princesses Pringles and Ruffles of “The Beaches”


Princess Ruffles and Princess Pringles of “The Beaches”

15 combined pounds of Love and Devotional Bonding.

Let’s go, let’s go….

I am roaring to go…. Lol

No love can match the bond of animal to human.

The Devine Princess Ruffles weighing in at a form fitting 10.08 pounds of Love and Devotion.

My Healing Spirit lives within her.

She calms me when the Dark Beast of Cancer comes knocking on my door.

Watching over her little sister

Big Sister watching over Little Sister

Moments like the one below are one of the most beautiful you will ever remember…..

Pringles thinks her chews are cigars. Lol

Why YOU must choose carefully when getting a furry companion is very simply answered.


No “if’s” “and’s” or “but’s”.







Their love will be true no matter what. Sadly they often remain in love with abusive owners. Much as a human in an abusive relationship. They love the person they fell in love with and do not understand why they are being abused.

Love them as they love you.

The rewards will surprise you.



Cuteness 3.0


Please, please, please…..

Really think about what you and your family committing to before acquiring a furbaby.

It is much as a commitment a “marriage”

You are promising to love, cherish and provide a shared life until

“Death Do You Part”

Imagine having a fur companion for, say, 7 years and you finally find your ‘dream’ apartment, but pets are not allowed.

Would you be willing to say “no” to that dream apartment and look for a more suitable place or would you tearfully say goodbye to a companion of all those love filled years?

Without a second thought or regret I would wait for the next ‘Dream Home”to come along.

I would not give up a family member for any reason.


Big Beautiful Brown Eyed Princess Ruffles is…



I cannot believe that it will be five years this August that both these Angels came into our family.

Pray It Forward People