Xog (ism)

You may be asking what Xog is or what it means. You may also be asking why. Why is Xog? I came up with the word a couple of years ago when I was younger: seventy-five. I can’t tell you why I came up with this except that I was sick and tired of dreaming up wondrous names for websites that caught people’s attention. How it came into my mind is yet a mystery. A mystery not really worth exploring though. So what? Let’s just say that I have always had a weird streak and leave it at that? How about you? Do you possess a weird streak?

Actually, and with unbridled abandon, I think we are all subject to weirdness. I have an excuse that you may not have though, I am seventy-seven, a veteran of war and combat, and a really nice guy if I could stop thinking I’m weird. Then again, one must possess a minimum of oddness to write like this on the internet. Weirdness, in all likelihood, is not what you may call your “sometimes” behavior. That behavior when you abandon decorum to be yourself, your hidden self. That self which polite society is not privy to. Your, “in front of the mirror” weirdness. Those few seconds when you approach that reflection of yourself as you really want to be. A middle finger to the world, a face you are glad you weren’t born with, or a mouthful of Doritos you want no one to know you’re eating far too much of. Is “Xog” beginning to make more sense to you now?

I am not guilty of the too many chips. You may think that this is an admission to the rest of what I exemplified above. You’re wrong. My middle finger comes up only when I hear ignorance in the cacophony of social unrest in a country I fought for and was seriously injured in. I fought for brats didn’t I? I fought for purely dumb and spoiled brats who think socialism is heaven. Add ignorant to that last as it was a communist country I fought in, Oh, right, that was a long time ago. At my age everything is a long time ago and that is the problem. When I grew up none of this dogma of distaste for all we have was true. We knew how fortunate we were and appreciated it.

You see, there are two of me. There is the old of memory and the new of dissatisfaction with this new society. Does no one understand that humans cannot change? When we have something really good we tend to throw it away. The youth are throwing America away because they are taught to throw America away. Human behavior doesn’t ever change and this is why we die. Life is that simple but in between birth and death we get distracted by baubles offered by the world. We forget that we will die as we are so distracted by achieving. We achieve only death in the long or short run. I cheated death long ago and I got old for my good fortune. This is where we all end up so what do we do in the meantime? Screw others and flip off the world? Not if you believe in more than yourselves.

But, I digress do I not? This is life in a nutshell from one that has lived on borrowed time since age twenty-two. A near miss, an injury that I recovered from and a great amount of thankfulness that I am still here, for now. War teaches death and that is a valuable lesson that far too many never have to see or handle or get to be part of. Then again, there are protests to go to, women to fool into giving their bodies to you and and grand visions of nothingness garbed in baubles and glitter and smelling of sweet success. Somewhere, hidden from the reality of this world is prayer, thankfulness, and helping others in dire need. You know, the little stuff that gets in the way of living a full and worldly life. Then, the door is shut, the lights go out, and you are lost and cannot find your way in the dark. Welcome to the combat that matters. The war of separating your life from the world in meaningful fashion. I will go into this here as well as laugh and chortle at the silliness of all things thought needful.

If I don’t say this, who will?