Friday. I'm in Love.

I do realize that I promised a blog on Monday giving you a rundown of the fun I've been having for the past year or so.  Monday came and went, and nobody was surprised that nothing popped up in their RSS feeds from me.  Admit it.  I wasn't surprised, either.

Mostly, I wasn't shocked because I spent the weekend riding out a torrent of vomit and diarrhea around the house.  The Pale Rider, the Grim Specter of Death, whose poisonous touch brings about a pestilence and who leaves gasping, retching, heaving broken, disease-ridden bodies in its wake, took a turn through the house.  I realize that I'm now thirty-eight, and though my mind likes to think that I'm still in my twenties and that I'm flushed with the hale and hearty glow of youth, my body likes to say "Whoa, there, fella.  You might need to take a rest or two before commencing with grabbing life by the horns."

Plus, Monday was President's Day, and no one was at work anyway, right?  I mean, I wasn't at work, so you shouldn't have been at work, either.  Yeah, we'll go with that excuse.

Anyway, I'm feeling much better.  I've been rescued from the lingering, lasting feeling of nausea that had settled into the pit of my stomach over the weekend, and the boneweariness of the fatigue that had suffused itself deep into my being has mostly gone.  One could say I've been cured of the illness from which I had been ailing.

And, it's Friday!  See, there's a certain synergy to the title.

So, now that I've taken up half a blog with explaining why there wasn't a blog (I went how long between posts?  I shouldn't have to explain myself, but, guilt works like that.  You're welcome.  And, I'm sorry.  Again.  Wanna make out?  Again?), I feel I should at least give a little run-down on that which I had teased in this space a week ago.

But then, what's the point?  Remember a few years ago when some Biblically-minded chap went through and calculated when Jesus was supposed to return in glory to judge the living and the dead, Homer-style?  But the guy forgot to mail Jesus the invite, and so the Son of God never showed up?  Rude.  On the guy's part.  Not on Jesus' side.  He can't RSVP if he never got the Save-the-Date card.

Oh, and remember when the world was supposed to end on my birthday a couple of years ago, with hellfire and brimstone and the sky falling and all that rot?  Well, yeah, it didn't, and the loans I took out of my 401K in order to really celebrate my birthday--think android wang, Russian prostitutes and monkey waiters, complete with the mini tuxedos--are demanding to be repaid.  Fuck.

Anyway, we're in one of those end times again.  Tomorrow, in case you didn't realize it, is the scheduled date of Ragnarok, which is the Norse version of Armageddon (that bears quite the uncanny resemblance to Armageddon, if you've read Revelation or had it shoved down your throat throughout your childhood).  I can see I just ruined the closing ceremonies of the Winter Olympics for you.  Many regrets.

If you're unfamiliar with Ragnarok (aside from the kickass sword from Final Fantasy III/VI), there will be a clash among the gods the likes of which we've never seen before (I wonder why...) and probably won't see again.  Because we'll be dead.  All of us.  Including most of the gods.

Everything starts because Loki busts out of his prison and rallies an army of the dead in Helheim, which is the realm of the dead.  The overseer of Helheim is Hel, who is, coincidentally, Loki's daughter.  As is Jorgmandr, the world serpent that will rise from the depths of the ocean and who will eventually poison Thor during the battle.  The Dark Elves, the Fire Giants, the Frost Giants and the Dwarves will all be involved, along with Odin's army of warriors that have been feasting, fighting, fucking and generally getting rowdy up in Valhalla for all these centuries.  It will be quite the throw down, to be sure.  Get your popcorn, kids.

Just don't plan on sitting through all of it.  Humanity is wiped out during the course of the fighting.  I guess epic battles between all-powerful celestial beings will do that to a species.  Curse these weak and spongy bags of flesh we call bodies!!!  Only when the world is reborn after all the fighting and Magni and Modi--Thor's sons--are walking through a field of green will they find two sleeping humans--a man and a woman--who will repopulate the Earth.  The rest of us?  Compost.

If there's anything that will help to calm your end-of-the-world fears, it's that Ragnarok was supposed to be preceded by the Fimbulwinter, which was a terrible winter that would bury much of the world in snow, ice and cold and would last for three years.  And, as everyone knows, we've all had a terrifically mild winter this year, so there's nothing to worry about (if you're reading this from Europe, just play along).

So, bust the seal out of a box of wine tonight, sit back, turn on the news, and watch as the cameras roll while one-handed Tyr and the giant Fenrir wolf duke it out.  You've been fairly warned; if it seems like the sun and the moon have been devoured by giant, celestial wolves, don't come crying to me.  I'll just tell you that I told you so.

Well, a Happy Odin's Day to You, Too!

Last week, the trailer for the Thor movie was released in the wake of San Diego Comic Con. Since I don't have enough money to even hire hookers, much less pay someone to dispose of their bodies, I couldn't attend Comic Con. Therefore I had to wait and download the trailer online.

Now, I'll say that I've never really followed the Mighty Thor in comic book form because...well...Marvel's vision of the Norse pantheon and my vision of the Norse pantheon don't exactly jive. However, I was never a big fan of Iron Man, either, but the movies have been good (I say that having only seen one), so I thought I'd at least give Thor a try. Plus, it's being made by Kenneth Branagh, who is probably the first in a line of man-crushes for me. Dead Again is one of my favorite movies, and not just because one of the characters is named Roman.

See? Yeah, that's kind of a joke toward me. Get it? Fine.

Anyway, while perusing various blogs and other sites where the clip could be found, I saw a lot of...um...less than aware people...who were complaining about Sir Anthony Hopkins' "pirate eye patch". In case you're unaware, Hopkins is playing Odin in the movie.

I'm not going to critique the trailer. It looks pretty, I'll go see it for no other reason than it's a Kenneth Branagh film and because Natalie Portman is in it. Clothed, but what can you do? And Australian Christopher Hemsworth looks like a fucking Viking god...which is appropriate, since he's playing Thor.

I did this for Athena a few months ago, which was received rather well, so I thought I'd give you a quick primer on Odin, and maybe explain why he's wearing a pirate's eye patch.

Odin is, of course, the chief of the Norse Pantheon, and head of the family known as the Aesir (which I think means "the older ones", roughtly). He is married to Frigg (or Frigga), but like some other naughty gods (Zeus, Poseidon), he had a bit of a wandering eye. He is credited with fathering Baldur and Hod with Frigga, and then Thor, Vali and Vidar with other various supernatural beings. Hermod is either a son of Odin or a servant, but is sometimes referred to as a brother of Baldur, which would make him another son of Odin. There's also a mortal hero named Hermod, who may or may not be one of Odin's offspring. He is also tied to fathering several heads of noble and royal lines across the Scandinavian and Germanic countryside. Take note: Odin was not the father of Loki.

Thanks to all this, Odin was known as the "All Father". This is not to say that he was the creator of the Earth (or Midgard, as the Norse termed it), but that he was prodigious in producing bastard sons to rule houses in the Nordic lands. He is also the father of the runic language, which he learned when he sacrificed himself to himself (a sacrifice made to the highest god, which was Odin) on the trunk of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. There the magic runes as well as magic songs were revealed to him.

Not satisfied in simply knowing some magic spells and some magic letters, Odin went to Mimir's well, the Well of Knowledge, in order to learn everything he could. Mimir wouldn't give up his secrets willingly, though, so Odin had to sacrifice something to the well. He chose his right eye. Plucking it out, he threw it in the waters and then drank from them, learning of the fates of the gods and the world. This, coupled with the Yggdrasil experience, made him associated with knowledge, and thus he became a wisdom god.

Knowing that the world would end with Ragnarok, Odin set about wandering the world. He also established the notion of the Einherjar, which are the spirits of warriors who died in glorious battle. The Valkyrie took the dead spirits to Odin's feast hall of Valhalla, where they would train during the day and get drucking funk during the night, all in preparation for the final battle. For this, Odin became known as a war god as well a god of death and dead souls. To bring this full circle, Odin was also the Father of Victory, for if you were victorious in battle, Odin surely chose your side to win.

In Germany, he was known as Wotan, and while the Germans were trading with the Romans (I couldn't leave them out of this, right?) they learned about the names of the days of the week from the Roman traders. The Romans called their day in the middle of the week "Mercury's Day." Mercury was a psychopomp--a leader of souls into the afterlife--which is also what Odin did. Since the Germans didn't worship Mercury, they altered the name to "Wotan's Day", which we now know as "Wednesday" (and that explains the fucked-up spelling for 'Wendsday'). This is why he appears in Neil Gaiman's American Gods as "Mr. Wednesday". Like the Romans, I can't leave him out of the mix, either.

The eye patch is a signature symbol for Odin. He is also associated with his two ravens, Huginn and Muninn (whose names mean "Thought and Memory" respectively), who fly around the world viewing everything. They return every evening to sit on Odin's shoulders and whisper in his ears what they've seen. He has two wolves, Geri and Freki, who flank his throne in Valhalla. He feeds them the food from his plate, since he only consumes mead and wine. He carries a dwarven-made spear named Gugnir and rides an eight-legged steed named Sleipnir into battle. Sleipnir was born of Loki, when Loki turned into a mare in order to fool a frost-giant's horse into running off. Care to guess who Sleipnir's father is?

When not wearing his black-and-gold battle armor (he's a fucking Purdue fan?), he usually wanders the world wearing a drab, gray cloak and a wide-brimmed hat that helps to cover up the eyepatch over his missing right eye. He usually has a long staff with him, as well as a signature white beard. In this guise, he is thought of as a charlatan, a huckster, or a con artist. He's also a bit of a shapeshifter, and as such he assumes the form of an eagle from time to time. He is doomed to die during the events of Ragnarok.

With that in mind, J.R.R. Tolkien formulated the image of Gandalf, whose Elvish name was "Mithrandir", meaning "The Gray Wanderer". Some have also associated Santa Claus as being a modern-day interpretation of Odin. Odin also shows up a lot in the Final Fantasy series of games, usually as a summoned monster/creature. Most of the time, he's riding Sleipnir.

In someone else's current manuscript in progress, the Norse god is only peripherally present. As such, the main characters simply refer to him as "Old One Eye", which is supposed to be a bit of an insult. You know, because a dick is also called "one eye".