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

  “ Believe it or not, but I was once, maybe twice, a gangster.” Those who know me, or those who have read the five volumes of my autobiography, know well that for the majority of my life I was a gangster. That said, you would be correct in thinking that I am an authority on the topic of crime and, unfortunately, punishment. Society has changed. Modern society and the onset of social media’s ability to influence our youth in both ‘good’ and ‘bad’  ways has also matured the common crook. Maturity is a learned process. Knowledge is absorbed through life and the experiences that coincide with it. Logically we must now consider at what age do our youth transverse from childhood to young adults. By looking at the average age   of serious crimes young offenders   are now committing, we can easily see that they are not stealing liquor from their parents or swiping candy from the neighborhood corner stores. They are stealing high end automobiles, committing violent home inva...

​ There isn't a prison in the Western world that doesn't have the gang of "Muslim Brotherhood". And every single jailhouse Muslim is one just to get better food and special treatment.  Every Blood or Cripp gang member I have met in all my years claim to be Muslim.  And then they sell guns and heroin for the very people who want us dead. Muslim Brotherhood is not a new thing. No more than the Aryan Brotherhood is new. BOTH are using labels to  promote their drugs and arms dealing.  Now, in the case of the M.B., just by selling guns and heroin are they not being contradictory to their "PEACEFUL" so-called religion? False Muslims. Low life gang members hiding behind a Pedophilia religion to get rich off the destruction of their neighbours and funnel money back to ISIL, Taliban and other such low life scum. The A.N. members are no better. I have a colourful history and those who know me well know I have deep ties with multiple gangs. What I say to ...

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 ...