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I comment that his oeuvre shows the mark of a beast well aware of his surroundings. Always contemporary, his work is never trendy or subject to fashion. It seems to define, if not downright blight, the times we live in.
Satan nods. "Of course, I've experimented with a lot of different styles. I had a whole depraved, degenerate thing going for a while in Rome. And that was fine -- that's where I was as an artist and Monarch of Hell at that time. Then, of course, in the Middle Ages I got seriously medieval."
These days, Satan claims to be in semi-retirement -- just along for the ride, content to influence, mentor and guide. But evidence of his deft handiwork is everywhere; contemporary evil has his hoof marks all over it.
Boy minions Hanson concur: "He's definitely influenced us and our music." Adds software mogul Bill Gates, "Your mother sucks cock in hell!"
Satan (né Lucifer, which means "Shining One" or "Shining Star of the Dawn") entered the family business at a young age, working as an errand runner to the Garden of Eden. As his father's favorite, young Lucifer enjoyed the run of the place -- until God created Adam and Eve and directed Lucifer to look after them. It was then that his relationship with God began to sour.
As paramedics arrive to remove the blue-faced body, a stunning waiter glides over to our table with fresh Ketel One martinis and profuse apologies. They exchange the kind of look that makes me wonder if Satan has a secret. His eyes still trained on the receding well-muscled youth, Satan explains how he came out from under his father's stifling influence.
"No matter how I looked at it, I couldn't understand it. I mean, I was there first, I was the one who worked hard to cultivate this garden. Why did God love Adam and Eve more than me? I mean, what the hell, right?"
The seed of resentment toward his father began to sprout in Satan's heart. Sometimes, he says, he protested, "What does that asshole Adam have that I don't have? Why are you doing this to me?"
But his complaints fell on deaf albeit omni-audient ears, and after his father's betrayal, Satan and Eve (herself no fan of "that cretinous, candy-assed yes-man") attempted a hostile takeover of the garden. The plan failed, and they were given until the end of the day to clear their desks and vacate the premises. The incident, which Satan still only refers to as "the incident," became the stuff of legend.
Snubbed by his archangelic peers and sent careening through space into outer darkness by a vengeful deity, Satan found both approval and companionship among pagan gods and idols that had been elbowed aside by bullish trends in monotheism. In an uncharacteristically nonviolent interview earlier this year, he told Playboy that he was "intellectually intrigued with their process, their language, their attitudes, their ability to metamorphose into animal shapes and rape unsuspecting mortals." With fellow archangels, he said, he had always felt like "an outsider."
"Call me banal," he shrugs. "At least I'm not sanctimonious." He points skyward with a seditious grin.
Satan works from a grand, shackle-lined office on the bottom floor of his dwelling in hell. It's a remarkable setting: His view of Epcot Center is stunning, and the four floors he shares with his girlfriends, Mandee, Sandee, Brandee and Hagar, are tastefully decorated by design guru Kathie Lee Gifford and paintings by Don Rickles. He is king of a castle visited by such groveling acolytes as Ron Perelman, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Mike Ovitz and 'N Sync -- all of whom he considers assets.
"I'm thinking of taking Jennifer's breasts public next year," he muses.
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"I went through a biblical phase in the early days," Satan says, casually biting the head off a rodent. "I guess you could say it was sort of my naif period. You know, real over-the-top stuff, boils, plagues ... I'd just sit around and dream up these fantastical 'what if' scenarios. Like 'What if 10 million locusts fell from the sky right ... now!' That sort of thing."
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