HOMAGE TO LOKI

This is in praise of Loki - in the Norse pantheon, the god of mischief and misrule. He is the prankster of the gods, the one responsible for all the annoying little things that happen to you to fuck up your day. If you set your razor or your comb down on the shelf and it leaps halfway across the bathroom to land squarely in the toilet, say “Good morning, Loki – glad to see you’re with me once again!” Likewise when the coffee spills on the front of your best dress shirt five minutes before the career-making – or career-breaking – presentation, or later that evening in the bar when you stumble carrying the drinks to the hottie whom you’re trying to impress, and soak them thoroughly with a raspberry martini.

He is of cheerful countenance, young, lithe, alive with energy. He is handsome, strong and trim, but not as muscle-bound as Vulcan. He is charismatic, attractive, sexually magnetic (to both men and women), and persuasive to a fault – he can charm anyone into doing anything. He is always seen with a crown of laurel or oak leaves woven in his flowing brown hair – whether the trophy is from a drinking bout or the latest chapter in his sexual Olympics we know not. Every word he says is a lie, even (according to Dorothy Parker, who knew him well) “…including ‘a’,’ an’, and ‘the’.” He does no significant harm, usually – unless he is roused to anger, which happens rarely – but when it does, he will remind you that he is a god, after all…

He demands no sacrifice, and has no patience for rites or liturgical mummeries – the ceremonies put him to sleep and the incense makes him sneeze. He is most active out in the open, under a clear sky. He appreciates acknowledgement – when you are mopping up the mess from the spilled soup, or changing the flat tire on the way to work in the middle of the freeway, just give a little chuckle over the futility and stupidity of your predicament and say something like “Howya doin’, Loki? Howzit hangin’?” We humans are so self-importantly pompous, and so serious, and so pretentious in our constant busyness that he likes to give us little divine reminders of our own insignificance in the Cosmos. A cheerful acceptance of his (sometimes not-so-gentle) ministrations, and a hearty laugh at yourself, while striving to overcome whatever roadblocks he has thrown up in front of you, are what he likes to see and hear from us. And to those of us who go through our lives here deflating the high-and-mighty with wit, sarcasm, or an occasional prank of our own, to those he will show many blessings.

A recent Friday experience illustrates how he operates. I had made it to work fairly close to on time, somewhat disheveled from the flat tire, and made the presentation that afternoon with the coffee-stained shirt, and got the contract, but at a lower price (and consequently, smaller profit) than my boss wanted. That evening, I had finally persuaded one of my co-workers to go out for a drink with me. I had been lusting after this hunk of fresh meat for some