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This week Jeff and Dave - with the help of Prof. Deborah Roberts (Emerita, Haverford College) - begin their look at tragedian Aeschylus' magnum opus, Prometheus Bound. We get started with Prof. Roberts providing a lovely reading of the central passage of the play, in which Prometheus explains the many kindnesses he has wrought for the human race. Then we follow up by setting the table with the briefest of looks at the development of tragedy. Next, we dig into the main course with a bit of Greek from the play's opening, and the fascinating dialogue between smith god Hephaestus and the personifications Power (Κράτος) and Violence (Βία). In addition to examining the perennial central questions of how this telling differs from Hesiod, whether Zeus can be just while mistreating so severely one of his own – who fought for him in fact in his war against the other Titans – we also take a few glances at the vexed question of who really wrote the play. And if threnodic literature is not your cup of tea, don't worry, there are many wretched puns and inane surrealities along the way.

It's time for Jeff and Dave to finish off their brief foray into all things Philistine and Mycenaean. This week we wrap up our look at Neal Bierling's short but deep monograph on the state of excavation in Palestine. After a quick review of inscriptional and ceramic evidence, the Phaistos Disc, anthropoid coffins, and more, the conversation takes us on to the different eras in Philistine history: Judges to David, David to Solomon, Solomon to Hezekiah, and finally to the eventual dissolution or absorption of the Philistine people at the time of Babylonian Nebuchadnezzar's devastating invasion. Things get a little testy in the vomitorium when it comes to the trickster archetype, Jungian analogues, and the exact relationship between Samson and Hercules (and Paul Bunyan?) So tune in for what we hope was a careful thinking through the issues, some silly laughs and (on Dave's part) horrible puns, and a big announcement from one of our sponsors, RatioCoffee.

Does the name Neal Bierling mean anything to you, dear listener? No? Well it will after this episode. Bierling's 1992 monograph Giving Goliath his Due is our theme this week and next, and it's a thorough, exhaustively researched look at the close connection between the Mycenaeans of Atreus and Agamemnon and those inveterate opponents of the biblical Israelites known as the Philistines. In this first half, we look at the evidence of archaeology and epigraphy, including Egyptian steles and anthropoid burial objects, olive-oil production, feather headdresses, and Goliath's bronze-age armor. Along the way, learn of the Mice-smasher Apollo Smintheus, the Philistine's desperate attempt to return their war trophy the Ark of the Covenant, and the overwhelming, almost ironclad (get it?) evidence that the Mycenaeans who fought at Troy became the Philistines of the pentapolis (Gaza, Ashdod, Ekron, etc.) Don't miss the startling similarity between Iliad I and I Samuel 4-6.

This week Jeff and Dave wrap up their two-part series on the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Here we learn about Demophoon, infant child of Queen Metaneira of Eleusis. It seems he has a problem with mortality, and Demeter has the cure: nightly fire purgations. As the kids say, "srsly?" But things don't go so well when the blazing goddess of grain is caught in the act of burning off Demophoon's (not huggable but mortal) portions, and rather than wreak havoc on the innocent inhabitants of Eleusis, she decides to set up a cult and allow them to worship her. Meanwhile, what about Persphone? Hey girl, beware the pomegranate! Tune in for an update on Dave's Greece trip, the usual, blithe and bland banter, and maybe a pun or two about Grape Nuts. As the kids say, "Whaaa?"

After a welcome hiatus for all of us (especially you, listener), Jeff and Dave are back in the studio for a look at the archaic hymn to the goddess Demeter. Was this intended to be used in the ritual and liturgy of the mystery cult, or is it just a breezy, Saturday afternoon matinee poem? Clocking in at 495 lines, how does this eypllion differ from the shorter poems from the seventh century? What is a mystery religion, how does this one compare to the cults of Mithras and Dionysus, and exactly how small do scientists intend to make tomatoes, while being sure we will still ingest them? Tune in for the answers to these and other pressing questions as the summer rolls along.

This week Jeff and Dave talk about Milo of Croton, by all accounts the most accomplished athlete of antiquity. This incredible individual was the winner of multiple Olympiads, strongman, wrestler, supposedly deadlifting a stone of more than 1100lbs. The ancients like Pausanias, Galen, Strabo, Cicero and more were fascinated not only by his tremendous physical prowess, but equally by his enormous appetite for food and drink. Did he really eat an entire heifer in one sitting? Along the way we look at the Olympic Games, have a short travelogue to Olympia and Nemea, discuss Mohammed Ali, Babe Ruth, Michael Jordan, Michael Phelps, Flo Jo, and more. It's summer, get out, be active, and take AdNavseam along on your workout. You won't regret it. Maybe if you do enough reps you can snap your headband, like Milo, just by flexing the blood vessels in your head!?

Wait a minute…this STILL sounds like rock and/or roll, or at least the synthy stuff wants to. Join Johnny Pop Winkle and Ye Olde Curmudgeon for a look at seven songs inspired by the Classics. From Abba, to Clientele, Utopia, Perfect Circle and more, you'll get to hear Jeff's perfect aesthetic judgment tear like a buzz saw through Dave's carefully curated, gross ignorance of most "music" from 70s through to today. What rhymes with Lysistrata? And why not a song about Thesmophoriozusae? Should be catchy. Hey, it can't be all discussion of translating endusted Latin tomes, grave and staid epics, the dignity of man, and so forth. Kick back, tune in, and remember, at AdNavseam, you've got friends in low places.

This week it’s back to the bottomless well of Ovidian goodness with a walk through a couple more vignettes. The guys start off with a look at the well-known tale of Arachne. While the “hubris-meets-nemesis” theme does seem to be at the heart of the story, there are some striking bits of context that complicate simple interpretations—is Minerva primed to punish from the tale that precedes this one? Does Arachne truly know what she’s getting into or who she’s dealing with? Then it’s on to another of Naso’s greatest hits—King Midas and the Golden Touch. As we zero in on the details reveals we find here as well a much richer tale than the usual Cliffs Notes version—How does this tale play with the "deadly wish" motif? What about the aetiology of the River Xanthus? And, wait, where is Midas' petrified daughter? Isn’t she always part of this thing? Tune in to find out.

This week we sit down for a fascinating, lively discussion with author Margalit Fox about her 2013 book, The Riddle of the Labyrinth: the Quest to Crack an Ancient Code. The story centers around the race to decipher the mysterious “Linear B” script. The first large supply of this script was uncovered on clay tablets on Crete by archaeologist Sir Arthur Evans in 1900, but remained a puzzle for years after Evans failed to crack it. Young genius (and amateur scholar) Michael Ventris has long been famous for finally getting the job done in 1952, but is that all there is to the story? Ms. Fox introduces us to classicist Alice Kober of Brooklyn College as the woman who dedicated her life to solving the mystery and is truly the unsung heroine in the narrative. Tune in and hear how Kober’s painstaking, deliberative work paired with Ventris’ own extraordinary skills finally solved one of the great archaeological mysteries of our time.

This week Jeff and Dave take a look at the 5 canons of classical rhetoric, and how it is that great orators like Aeschines, Demosthenes, and Cicero gave their speeches to such successful effect. Was it nature? Were these men endowed with towering genius and preternatural giftedness? Yes, of course. Or was it nurture? Did they write speeches according to a fixed and carefully honed set of formulae? Yes, of course. This wide-ranging discussion has plenty of the nitty-gritty of the exordium, collocatio, etc., but we also look at some of the broader issues of what makes human communication effective – or not. You won't want to miss this one, especially if you are a teacher or practitioner of rhetoric. And as Aristotle explains, that's all of us.

Well ladies and gentlemen, this podcast within a podcast has finally come to an end: Jeff and Dave, at long last (denique, tandem, demum) have reached the final episode on the Aeneid. We start out by looking at how the end of the Iliad and the end of the Aeneid compare, verge off into some Shakespearean and Miltonian digressions, recite some beautiful Latin poetry, talk about Annie Lennox, and round it all off with a look at interpretive possibilities from a wide range of 20th century scholars. These include: Bowra, Elllingham, Brooks, Lewis, Parry, Putnam, and Commager. Who is correct in their interpretation of the Aeneid? When the ancients said that Vergil's twin purposes were to "rival Homer" and "praise Augustus all the way back to his ancestors", were they correct? Or is the man from Mantua up to something quite different and more subtle? Should we go with the revisionist interpretation – adopting Jeff's maxim "the Romans were wrong"– or side with the traditional school? Pull up your can of Campbell's Soup, make your way to your own Fortress of Solitude, and settle in for a rip-roaring interpretive ride.

This week, Jeff and Dave get back to the Aeneid after a brief, Tarzanian hiatus. As the epic nears its end, we witness the intense and interesting interplay between Turnus and the titular hero. Aeneas seems quite secure in his fate, but still he begins the move from representing civilization to savagery. Turnus, on the other hand, ricochets between the poles of Hector and Achilles: sometimes cruel and bloodthirsty, other times sympathetic and winsome. What does Vergil really want us to think about these hulking war machines? Why does Lavinia blush? What's gotten into Amata? And most importantly, why won't Jeff mow his lawn? These questions and more we will seek to answer over the course of 70 tedious, grueling minutes. Still, you might just find this episode the bees' knees.

This week Jeff and Dave wander back into the lush, crowded undergrowth of Edgar Rice Burroughs' prose, guided by the inimitable Erling B. "Jack" Holstmark. Does the vine-swinging, croc-wrestling, ape-aping Tarzan really have anything to do with Odysseus? Hercules? Neither? Or does Dave's late Prof. have a case of academicitis, "seeing what's not there"? Come along with us as we finish up looking at the abiding influence of Animals, Hero, and Themes, the final chapter of Holtsmark's 1981 monograph. And remember, "We live in a world of illusion, where everything's peaches and cream. We all face a scarlet conclusion, but we spend our time in a dream." You're going to (jungle) love this episode! Just make sure that crate of papaya doesn't wait all night by your door.

The guys are back, and this time they are taking a break from the Aeneid series to focus on the appearance of classical themes and inspiration in an unexpected place: the 20th century pulp fiction novels of Tarzan. Aided by the brilliant monograph of Dave's late grad school professor, Dr. Erling B. "Jack" Holtsmark, we examine such questions as, What standards should popular literature be held to? What makes for good diction and characterization? Is Tarzan in the mold of Achilles? Along the way we look at some structures of Greek and Latin style, including polarities, chiasmus, and parallels. If you enjoyed the Tarzan books or movies as a kid, this is a vine time to renew your interest as we burroughs deep into the jungle of Tarzaniana.

In this episode, Jeff and Dave finish off their tour through and analysis of the penultimate book of Vergil's masterpiece. Here we have the jazz-solo moment, the aristeia of the great warrior princess Camilla. She flies across the battlefield at breakneck speed, cutting down in her path every Trojan stooge who dares stand in her way – until she meets "Arruns the Dispatcher", ironically named after an Etruscan prince. But this fast-paced, high-octane action vignette raises some complex questions, the very kind academics love to dilate upon: how come Camilla never encounters Aeneas himself? Why is the erstwhile hero Turnus so passive throught this part of the story, not providing the kind of leadership expected of a protagonist? And most importantly, has anyone used double-blind, controlled studies to determine the real benefits and side effects of daily consumption of horse milk on female Volscian infants? Tune in.

Remember way back when the Trojans were “eating their tables”? Well, in Book 11 their tables seem to be turning. Seems like just yesterday Aeneas was raging as Rambo and Turnus was carrying himself with Hector-like respectability. Sed ecce!—Aeneas is handing out truces like sticks of Big Red and actually validating hurt Latin feelings, while Turnus’ allies are turning against him and blaming him for the whole mess. Even old Diomedes is once bitten, twice shy, telling the Latins there is no way he’s tangling with Venus or her son ever again. So that’s it? It’s over? Not quite—Turnus has a couple of aces up his sleeve, including a spear-swift, water-walking, grain-skipping warrior maiden who is juuuuuust over the horizon.

This week there’s more gore in store for shor as Aeneas gets his rage on and goes full Achilles. The carnage reaches such a fever pitch that it raises a number of sticky questions: Is Aeneas just a puppet of Fate? If so, can we hold him culpable for the horrible things he perpetrates on the battlefield? When does embossing your baldric with mythic scenes stop being a flex and start being a “bit much”? Keep your head down, dodge those flying body parts, and see if you can tell who’s who as Aeneas meets his possible doppelganger between spear chuckings. You know what they say—double your alter ego symbolic foreshadowing stand-ins, double your fun. Check out Jeff's new "Peregrinatio" series (Google Earth Archaeological Virtual Tours): Ancient Dodona (the Oracle of Zeus) Ancient Epidauros (the healing sanctuary of Asklepios)

This week Jeff and Dave are back at the Aeneid, wading into some deep waters murky and redolent with the unfulfilled wishes of Jupiter. As full-scale war erupts on the Latian plain, Venus and Juno bring their high-pitched quarrel to the king of Olympus, whose own hands, it turns out, are tied by the Parcae. As the Fates roll around in their El Camino, cutting short the threads of numerous heroes Sarpedon-like, men are dying on the field of battle like a scene straight out of the Iliad. But it's not just questions of fate, of popsicle sticks, glue, and Fort Ticonderoga that occupy our sally into divine destiny. Along the way there is also room for Vergil's frowzy digression on Ascanius' lustral locks. What is he, a trichologist? Perhaps our poet was himself glabrous, and that explains his odd obsession with the young Iulus' quiffs and frisettes? We comb through the evidence, attempting to answer this, and more.

The guys take a brief break from Vergil this week to talk about some of Dave's recent translation work. The theme is Scottish divine Samuel Rutherford (1600-1661) and his Scholastic magnum opus Examen Arminianismi ('A Careful Review of Arminianism'). This is for a forthcoming publication by Reformation Heritage Books. After spending a little time on Rutherford's bio and background - including pedagogy of the 17th century - we get into some of the nuances and challenges of Scholastic Latin. Its plain, unadorned style, jawbreaking adverbs and abstruse, Thomistic constructions (indeclinabiliter, reduplicative, in facto esse, in fieri), and repetition for the sake of clarity, all come under the microscope. So if you're interested in the translator's task, in 17th century theological Latin, in some of the politics and controversy of the life of a famous Puritan, then be sure to tune in for this one!

Tune in this week as the guys wrap up Aeneid 9 and take a look at the fallout and aftermath of Nisus' and Euryalus' disastrous midnight raid. When the Rutulians wake to the bloody devastation, its off to besiege the city in which the Trojans, sans Aeneas, are hiding. In this "reverse Iliad", we find the foreign aggressors -- Aeneas and company -- besieged within a city by the invaded inhabitants on the plain. Along the way, we're met with an interesting digression in which Vergil honors motherhood with a threnody from Euryalus' otherwise anonymous mother. He also gives us another invocation of the muse, this time of Calliope, inspiratrix of epic poetry. As full-scale war breaks out, we see Turnus unleashed, and another little hero step forward: Ascanius, Aeneas' son. In his martial aristeia, he dispatches the Rutulian braggart Numanus, after a real, real long monologue. There may be some limericks and lighthearted moments along the way, but don't look for any spoilers here!

"Who drives us to outrageous action? Is it some god, or does each man make of his own desire a god, which then drives him furiously to a violent end"? This is the question we consider this week as we turn to the final quarter of the epic (books 9-12). And we are treated to two surprising events: first, how the ships of the Trojans are transformed into mermaids, shocking Turnus and his gathered Rutulians. Juno is up to her old tricks, and sends along Iris the messenger to tell him not to worry, the Trojans will be trapped in Italy where they can be easy prey for the indigenous hero and his assorted forces. Aeneas is off-scene, still wandering through the regions of Arcadia, securing alliances with Evander and company. The second episode is the midnight raid of Nisus and Euryalus. In a nod to – or perhaps improvement upon – Homer's Iliad 10 and the gruesome death of Dolon at the hands of Odysseus and Diomedes, Vergil here tells his own tragic story of two friends overtaken by greed and a desire for bloodlust. It's not all grim, however. Along the way you can spot silos of Pringles™, the grit of Fig Newtons™, a brief excursion to the admittedly grim Battle of the Little Big Horn, and some Uncrustables™. One might say that mixing the serious with the silly has become Jeff and Dave's ™. So tune in!

This week the guys wrap up Book VIII of Vergil's epic by discussing Aeneas' amazing shield. Wrought by the ignipotens fire-forger Vulcan at the lascivious behest of his sometime bride Venus, the shield is an ekphrasis of Roman history. But how does it compare to its predecessor, that of Achilles from Iliad XVIII? Is it, in Jeff's words, "too on the nose"? Or are there deeper meanings beneath the oxhide? And how does Aeneas compare to Odysseus in terms of plausible humanity? Should he tell some lies or bump some fists to seem more real? Come along for these questions and more — complete with tedious detours through Dante, supines, album covers, early Christian apologists, and Disney's Beauty and the Beast™! Did they leave out anything from this one?

This week Jeff and Dave launch into the fascinating, often misunderstood world of Rome way, way back before there were Romans. As Aeneas readies for battle in the idyllic landscape, he needs some allies. So it's off a-paddlin' to Arcadia, where the rustic Greek king Evander and his momentous son Pallas make ready allies. While enjoying some old-fashioned hospitality, Evander tells our hero the long, digressive backstory of Greece's mightiest avenger: Hercules. On the way back from rustlin' Spanish cattle, Hercules got rustled himself by the smoke-belching Cacus. This troglodytic monster must be killed. But what does this mean for the epic as a whole and for Vergil's view of the Pax Augusta? Well to find out, warm up your jerri-can of coffee, chill your bucket of Diet Coke, and tuck in for a classical repast past its prime not at all.

In this Christmas-themed episode Jeff and Dave take a break from the Aeneid to look at Luke's Gospel, chapter 2:1-5, and the puzzling census of Quirinius. Drawing from half a dozen scholarly articles on the subject, we try to puzzle out the four major objections to Luke's reliability as a historian on the topic of the census: “1. Apart from the gospel, history knows nothing of a general Imperial census in the time of Augustus. 2. There could have been no Roman census in Palestine during the time of Herod the Great, a rex socius. 3. Such a census at such a time could not have been carried out by Quirinius, for he was not governor in Syria then, nor till 10 years later, when he did make a census which gave rise to a revolt under Judas of Galilee. 4. Under a Roman census it would not have been necessary for Joseph to go to Bethlehem, or for Mary to accompany him.” - Alexander Balmain Bruce, D.D. (from Epxositor's Greek New Testament, W. Robertson Nicoll, 1897; p. 470) Can each of these objections be met? Was Publius Sulpicius Quirinius gov. of Syria twice, before the death of Herod the Great and again in 6-7 A.D. for the census mentioned in Acts 5? What about inscriptional evidence? Is Luke reliable as a historian? You won't want to miss this thorough look at the subject, complete with some excellent intro. and outro. music generously provided by guitar wizard extraordinaire Jeff Scheetz.

The guys wrap up their look at Book 7 this week but not before transgressing a few more liminal spaces. When Latinus throws up his hands at the storm gathering around him and his neighbors, it is up to Juno herself to descend and open the Gates of War. While this is the moment in the epic where the Iliadic violence of the second half is officially unleashed, these Gates also point to a Roman reality—the Temple of Janus and the Gates of War in the Roman Forum. A (worthy, we think) digression takes us into the history of these gates and this strange, two-faced deity. We end with a breakdown of Turnus’ puzzling fashion choices on the battlefield, and a glimpse at the extraordinary swift-footed, wheat-sprinting, water-skipping warrioress, Camilla. Keep an eye on this gal.

This week the guys move (nearer) to the end of Book VII and examine the role of that frightful, hair raising, blood-curdilng sister of Tisiphone and Megaera known as Allecto. Juno -- who knows she's lost but doesn't like being a one-trick villainess -- unleashes hell's wrath on Aeneas' nascent nuptial notions. Allecto's conjured up and down she goes into Amata to spread havoc across the Italian landscape. Along the way we investigate such questions as: is Ascanius' aristeia just riding his pony in the Trojan Games? Can such an innocuous, apparently inconsequential accident like killing a pet albino stag really lead, Gavrilo Princip style, to world war? Where exactly is Ampsanctus? And why doesn't Jeff know who Glenn Hughes is? So pull on your deep purple jumper, your sweats by Vanquished or Loser, and digress for success!

For a special Thanksgiving episode, this week the guys take a look at the "earliest surviving work of poetry about New England and the second oldest poem whose origins can be traced directly to the British American colonies." William Morrell (d. 1625), sometime Oxford Classics student, Anglican priest, and member of the failed Wessagusset Colony in Weymouth, MA, wrote a fascinating poem about Nova Anglia, its flora, fauna, and Native American inhabitants. Drawing on the work of Andrew Gaudio, Jeff and Dave share a lively discussion of the poetry's beauty, Morrell's fairmindedness, proselytizing spirit, and a few questions about colonialism. Lynxes, beavers, bears, and bobcats, this episode is stuffed like a turkey with unusual and recherche conversation. Plus, two more limericks during the ad read, and a special Thanksgiving Easter Egg at the end. Don't miss it!

Book VII! Aeneas and co. find themselves in the second half of the game and the stakes just keep getting higher and higher. Will they have the guts to get the glory? At first it seems like a cake walk—smooth sailing up the Tiber, a hearty welcome by the local king, even a swarm of bees seems to be down with it all on the local oracular BuzzFeed. But is this all just the calm before the big storm? I mean, Latinus is Faun-ing all over Aeneas, but he also makes a rookie mistake—didn’t clear it with the wife. Uh oh, someone’s headed for the doghouse. So, pull up a chair to your (edible?) table and tuck in to the next part of the main course.

Time to leave behind the valley of souls, make our way out of Dis place and head back to the land of the living. As the guys wrap up this portion of the epic poem, it's hard to avoid a little bit of interpretive questioning: Why did Vergil couple Rome's glorious future with the tear-jerking, pathos-filled death of Marcellus? How did the man of Mantua really feel about Augustus? Is that lavish, spondaic poety sincere or is there some kowtowing to the guy who cuts his check? And perhaps most of all, why does Aeneas exit the Mall of Persephone through that gate of false dreams? Was it only to prevent the emergency-exit alarm from going off as he heads toward his Iliadic destiny? To get some answers, cast your anchor from the prow, face your sterns toward the shore, grab a bag of huggable portions, and tune in!

In this episode we find Aeneas getting closer to a reunion with Dad and maybe even an exit from this Hotel California. But, as we’ve seen throughout this epic, there’s no gain without a healthy dollop of pain. First, there’s a horribly awkward rendezvous with a departed Dido who goes all Ajax on Aeneas and ghosts him (literally!) Then we get a glimpse of Tartarus and hear the wretched cries of the damned under the whip of Tisiphone. Finally, the Blissful Groves and a veritable Who’s Who of who slew, made it through just to drink Lethe’s brew (whew!) All this plus a wrestling Jacob, Tolkien, and a jittery Dave steeling himself for another parade. Don't miss it.

Episode 100! Will the guys celebrate the century mark by digging even deeper into the Classics, finding hidden layers of erudite exegesis, philology, philosophy, and theology in yet another literary jewel from antiquity? Nope. Time to phone one in. C’mon, it can’t be Homer, Vergil, Ovid or the predicative dative all the time, right? So, join Dave and Jeff as they look through their fingers at some of the “best” of the last couple of years. Listen as the clips veer from the embarrassing, to the embarrasinger, to the embarrassingest! You’ll cringe! You’ll cringe again! (But, really, thanks for sticking with us this long). Are we going to bring it for the next 100? You Cheddar believe it.

This week’s fun-size offering tackles the mysterious, quasi-historical object known as the Palladium. Readers of myth might remember this as the talisman held in the Trojan citadel which protected the city until it was stolen away by Odysseus and Diomedes. But the story doesn’t end there. Rumor says it went to Athens or Sparta, and then maybe Rome. Is the Palladium something that makes the jump from mythic symbol to historical artifact? Was it something like the ξόανον the Athenians kept in the Erechtheion? Did Elagabalus move the Palladium into his Rumpus Room? Did Constantine bury it under his column? Could it still be there?

Tune in for Part 2 of our Gurgle on memorizing Latin. In this brief episode we look at selections from King David , Appendini, Verinus, Gatti, Wegeler, the Apostle John, and more. Add some famous Latin quips and bon mots to your memory storehouse and repertoire. If you want to join the project, become a LatinPerDiem patron (patreon.com/latinperdiem) for $1.99/mo or sign up for Dr. Noe's LLPSI class (latinperdiem.com/llpsi). This will get you the master document of the 20 sayings with translations, plus two high quality audio files (Latin only, and Latin with English translation). The one who wants to give to others should not say: ‘Do you want it?’ But he should simply state: Take this, sweet friend! - Wegeler Have at it!

There's no going back now—in this episode we follow along as Aeneas enters the Underworld proper. And if you were expecting a DMV-esque experience like Odysseus had in his jaunt, you’d be sadly mistaken. Turns out the Roman afterlife is more like the 7-story Macy’s on West 34th Street. Oh, you’re looking for the place where the souls of deceased children reside? Up the escalator past housewares and knick-knacks. The shades of warriors who were just “ok”? Hang a left at kitchen accessories and general appliances. Do we also see an Underworld that is literally becoming more “demonized” in Vergil’s hands? Why is the Roman Charon all skeletal and glowing-eyed, while his Greek counterpart is more like Joe Six-Pack? Well, whatever questions you have, get in that leaky boat, drop your obol in the bucket, and hang on for the ride (and don’t forget a Milkbone or two for Cerberus).

Wait a minute…this sounds like rock and/or roll! Indeed, after some digging through attic boxes stuffed with 45s, 8-tracks, and cassettes, the guys sit down to puzzle over a number of classical allusions in pop songs from the ‘60s to the present day. The references are all over the place—from prog rock to new wave to folk to jazz-fusion to regrettable dabblings by Bob Dylan in cheese-ball ‘80s production. What purposes do these allusions serve? Is it just to make the singer look smart (looking at you, Sting)? To comment wryly on an ankle injury (sorry to hear about that, Mr. Plant)? To apply core themes of Plato’s Euthyphro to social commentary (Jay-Z and Kanye, really?)? So clean that wax out of your ears, strap yourself to that mast, and tune in as Jeff attempts to defend his title as “Johnny Pop” and Dave wrestles with jazz aversions and the over-cutesiness of folk.

Do you smell that? Could it be the warm smell of colitas rising up through the air? Or did Dave over-microwave his gas station burrito again? Well, whatever the odor is, this path paved with good intentions (and a little cement) is leading Aeneas and company to you know where. Our Trojan exiles have finally reached the stillettoed boot of Italy. But before they can plant a flag and put up their feet, Aeneas has to take a detour down into the Underworld for one last chat with dad. But how to get there? As the Cumaean Sybil says, the gettin’ in is the easy part, it’s the leaving that’ll give you fits. So, keep your eye out for lost comrades, watch those birds, and “bough down”, ut dicunt. Such a lovely place, such a lovely face.

This week the guys close out their look at Book V with continued questions about the relevance of this break in the epic's main action. Are we really supposed to find deep meaning in flaming arrows? Is there coded symbolism when Dares starts flexing and popping his pecs like Schwarzeneggar auditioning for Conan: This Time He's Even More Greased Up? And what's with that "Trojan Game"? Maybe there's a reason it never translated to the board or video variety. Is its sole function to bring out Dave's grim loathing of parades? But hold tight--there's also some genuine, keel-smoldering pathos here. Juno's intent on barbecuing the Trojan fleet and there's poignant loss at the end. So don't throw in the towel, go the full ten rounds.

Remember when you were a kid and eagerly waiting for that next episode of Family Ties, so you could pick up the continuing action of the Keaton family from the week before? But then they hit you with some weak-sauce clip show where nothing happens except Michael J. Fox getting some time off to film Teen Wolf VI? Well, many have suspected that Vergil is up to something similar in Book 5. We seem to go from the high drama and pathos of Book 4 to competitive paddling and “everybody gets a trophy” day. What happened to the “epic”? But maybe this isn’t just time-killing filler. Maybe Vergil is letting us catch our breath and setting up the next dark turn in these exiles’ fate. Hang on to that rudder, keep an eye on those rocks, and be prepared to nudge your pilot into the brine if need be.

This week Jeff and Dave take a sustained look at an-oft discussed but ill-defined notion: what, if anything, gives people dignity? Drawing on the work of famous, late scholar Charles Trinkaus (The Scope of Renaissance Humanism), the guys trace this notion from Cicero through the Greek and Latin fathers and into the trecento. Thanks to the diligent spadery of Chuck T., you'll enjoy a who's who of what's what when it comes to key themes and ideas surrounding what separates man (and woman) from animal, the noble brute. In the end it all comes down to Petrarch, Ficino, Mirandola, and Peter 'Et' Cetera of Chicago fame. The jinx here may be lower than normal, but the substance is swole. Don't miss it!

This week we at last reach the grim, tragic climax of Book IV of the Aeneid, where the height of Dido’s madness is matched only by the depth of Aeneas’ strange indifference. When Jeff innocently pauses to comment on the “cinematic” nature of Vergil’s language and pacing, Dave pushes back, and the guys tussle over whether literary narratives are always superior to visual ones. Would Vergil be a Scorsese today? Or would that make him a lesser artist by default, if he set down his pen? Are there genres that are better served on he screen? At any rate, things are getting bleak in Carthage—Dido’s flirting with black magic, raving about the citadel, preparing for a grisly end - and what does Aeneas decide to do? Catch a nap on the poop deck. What is going on with this guy?

We’re getting to the “dessert” portion of this banquet of a book; sounds great, right? Well, dismiss those visions of truffles and gelato from your mind because these “afters” are more akin to lettuce-plated Jell-O replete with creepy, suspended fruits. Why? Because in this episode we get the big breakup scene and it is a doozy. Dido gets wind that Aeneas is trying to shuffle out the back door without so much as a text and corners him. Does Aeneas get the tongue-lashing he deserves or is her response so unhinged as to be completely irrational? Is Fate’s prodding of Aeneas toward Italy the ultimate get-out-of-the-relationship card or is he just this year’s C. Caddy McCadderson? See if you agree with William Anderson’s hot take that Aeneas is actually “heroic” in his response. There’s a pyre on fire and baby it’s getting dire. More Jell-O, anyone?

It’s getting steamy in Carthage, as Aeneas and Dido find themselves alone in a cave, separated from the hunt, chased there by an Olympus-sent thunderstorm. But what exactly happens therein? Two lovers simply giving into their desires or is it, as Dido (and Juno) believes, an actual marriage? Is the worst part that Dido has forsaken her vows to her dead husband or that this wedding is shamwow by Roman standards? Where’s the overpriced DJ? Where’s Achates’ overlong and embarrassing “best man” toast? Where’s the can-shackled chariot with the off-kilter “Nuper Nupta!” sign? The guys (with a little help from Brooks Otis and William Anderson) spelunk their way to the answers. And don’t miss the special Princess Bride intro—fans of the movie might see where this is going, but don’t expect a fist bump from Dave. Mawage?

Jeff and Dave are back at it after a tiny hiatus and a southern-fried roadtrip. In this episode we seek to figure out, with the help of Brooks Otis, why Aeneas is such a passive character in Book IV. Why doesn't he show a little more chutzpah, temerity, and boldness as he traipses around Carthage? And why is Dido so darkly verklempt? Juno and Venus do some role-shifting as the darts of Cupid's passion work their way imperceptibly through Dido's cervine heart. A cave, an eloquent sister serving as matchmaker, the 70's hit Loveboat, and Dave's usual pedantry: this episode nearly has it all. And stay tuned for Jeff's signature exercise program so you can learn how to walk like a Classicist!

This week Dave and Jeff take a break from Vergil (well, kinda) and fast forward a few centuries to Augustine of Hippo. Now, here’s a guy that a lot of our audience should be able to relate to—openly hated learning grammar as a kid, beat his head against the wall trying to master Greek, pushed back against things his teachers forced him to do. But as an older man looking back through his life in his Confessions Augie feels guilt for loving the Aeneid so much and not appreciating, say, the foundational aspects of the dative of reference, as well as not weeping for his own flagrant dalliances. But were those tears for Dido really wasted? Can good art channel our emotions in a healthy direction or does it always take us off the path toward God? And why can’t Jeff just keep it together at the end of Pixar’s Cars? Tune in to find out.

Here's your chance, dear listener, to add some famous Latin quips and sayings to your memory storehouse and repertoire. In this Gurgle we teach you how to assimilate and regvrgitate some bon mots from Cicero, Solomon, Urbano Appendini, King David, Vergil, Terence, and more. If you want to join the project, become a LatinPerDiem patron (patreon.com/latinperdiem) for $1.99/mo or sign up for Dr. Noe's LLPSI class (latinperdiem.com/llpsi). This will get you the master document of the 20 sayings with translations, plus two high quality audio files (Latin only, and Latin with English translation). Quid expectatis?

In this episode the guys make their way through the rest of Book 3 where we find more regressive pulls back to the old Troy as well as Homeric tags and Odyssean cameos. At the first stop Aeneas is stunned to find a remarried Andromache still alive in Epirus, but also still obsessed with the past and her dear departed Hector. And even more things are off—she seems to be living in a low-rent, Euro Disney, knock-off “Tiny Troy” with a mini Simois, scant Scaean gates, and paltry Pergamum. It’s like we’ve entered Vergil’s version of the Upside-Down or some other referent to a show Dave hasn’t seen. Aeneas hightails it out of this creepy place and heads for (at last!) Italy, the land of murses and selfie-sticks. Now there's some solid Homeric “fan service”—crowd pleasing walk-ons by Scylla, Polyphemus, Achaemenides, and Bill Murray. Oh, and Aeneas’ dad dies. Blink and you'll miss it.

At the urging of mom (Venus) Aeneas finally decides to bolt from Troy, but not before encountering a cowering Helen lurking in the shadows. His instinct is for bloody vengeance, but once again Fate has other ideas and dust brooms our hero out the gates. Aeneas is able to save his dad and son (and meet other haggard Trojans by the ol’ cypress tree) but discovers his wife as a ghost. Creusa tells him her heart will go on and then gives him the “Hesperia” prophecy (for about the zillionth time). Then its on to Book 3! Aeneas now has a vague kind of destiny but where will it lead? Hey, Thrace! Let’s offramp here! NO. Delos? UH-UH. Oh Crete, then, right? TRY AGAIN. And is this Book killer or filler (like that 4th track on every Bon Jovi album)? As the Trojans slowly shed their past, brace yourself for the creepiest gardening you’ve ever encountered, stanky bird-women, and the culinary oddity of “eating one’s tables”. What is that, some kind of ancient bread bowl? Dardanian Flatizza?

As Dave and Jeff plow deeper into Book 2 it is clearly getting worse for the Trojans. They didn’t Sinon for this! Those wily Greeks have set the trap and now it begins to spring. First, coiled, creepy snakes come writhing out of the sea to put Laocoon and his two unlucky sons into a suplex and drag them to watery graves. The Trojans read this omen in exactly the wrong way, and think that this is the perfect time to slap some roller skates on that huge wooden equine and surf it into the city. And, well, we all know what happens next. Greeks storm the citadel, horrors multiply. Pyrrhus murders old Priam at Minerva’s altar. Aeneas is frozen in indecision—what should he do? Go down swinging? Run for it? Take Dave to task for his irrational opposition to R.E.M. and Michael Stipe?

After a few parting remarks and summations to Book 1, Jeff and Dave wander through the dense undergrowth near the shores of Carthage and make their way to the palace of Dido and Book 2. Here we meet the big set piece, the longest account of the fall of Troy in Greco-Roman literature. How does Jupiter's promise of endless empire for the wolf-pelted Romans get started? How does it feel for Dido to wear that souvenir T-shirt, “I’m with Cupid”? How do we feel about ethnic profiling? Are all Greeks really as evil as the actor left on the shore, or is he just a Sinon the times? What kind of a sound should a spear make when it hits a horse? And finally, should Laocoön get some comeuppance for being the only one who sees the truth? These and more questions will be answered, and you will be treated to a lovely clip from that war on bureaucracy, the ’80s British comedy series Yes, Minister. And don’t miss the extended discussion of scrimshaw and relish.

Don't you just hate it when all you want is to have a nice visit with your mom, share some tea and a huggable portion or two, but then she decides to trick you by showing up as the goddess Artemis or some lace-booted Thracian huntress? Personally, I know that I've had it with that and in this episode Aeneas has too. We pick up the story where Aeneas and a few comrades are washed up on strange Libyan shores convinced they've lost most of their fleet and friends. But wait! Venus appears in disguise and nudges her son and his disheveled band toward the rising city of Carthage just over that hill there. We get some intriguing backstory on Dido (Carthage's plucky queen), too, including what seems to be evidence for Aeneas' and Dido's perfect Tinder match--tragic loss of spouse? Check. Destined to found a new empire in the West? Check. Years of storm-tossed sea wanderings? Check. Let's get these kids together! But before that can happen a few matters need to be resolved: can dull, duty-bound Aeneas make an attractive impression on the queen? Can he get over his obvious "wall envy"? Will Dave ever find his way out of fog-bound Edinburgh? Bodotria!