Opinions and Thoughts of LightHouse Dann Verner - Just as he is!

I am con fused by all the confused people in this dawning of the Age of Confusion.  To comprehend what is happening in society these days is beyond my capabilities.  Society is confused and confusion is spreading like a plague.  We have the “ gender ” confused. I honestly do not get this one. You have a penis? You are ‘ male ‘ You have a vagina? BINGO, you are ‘ female ‘.  Born with both? You are a ‘ Hermaphrodite ‘. (There, problem solved.) ‘ Gender ‘ confusion is a term society is presently using to misconstrue ‘ sexual’  confusion. Teaching our ‘ maturity   underdeveloped ‘ youth that there is a complete alphabet of sexes is only adding to the stupidity of political correctness. ( Bring on the hate and anger. Regardless,  you know I am speaking truth.) Everyone is praying for a higher wage. I call this ‘ monetary’  confusion.  People think if we raise minimum wages and wages in general we will all have better ...

As I sat this beautiful day with my beautiful sister Chorkies, Miss Pringles and Miss Ruffles   Miss Pringles Miss Ruffles I reminisced about my personalities.   I am in no way saying I am schizophrenic.  (Although I  could very well be.) I am referring to the various ' me's '  we all have. The at work me. The retired me. The going shopping me. The friend me. The tough me. The gentle me. But, neither do I know the ' me' that you know as ' me'. I am - to me - all the 'me' I be. This is the 'ME' I see Yet, each new morning I start the quest to be a better me. I try to love for I want  love. I try to smile for I want a smile.  I give a hug for I want a hug. I tell a humorous tale for I want a humorous tale.  I try not to judge, but I have been judged.  I try not to hurt, but I have been hurt.  I try not to lie, but I have been told lies....

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 ...