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Coming soon to a harbor near you: Jason, lackluster love hero, the one-sandaled man, Eagle Scout who schlepped Hera across a raging river, forever in the shadow of Heracles. But this time, as Argonautica Book 3 opens Jason is ready to finally get that golden fleece, get back to Colchis, and set things right with his wicked uncle Pelias. Athena wants to help him, and so does Hera. But Moe and Larry need a Curly: enter Aphrodite, staring oddly at the door and combing her golden locks. Can the three goddesses together work some magic on Medea, powerful daughter of the man who holds sway over that fleece, King Aeetes? If not, Jason has no chance of making off with the wool. Can Jeff and Dave actually talk about the titular epic for at least part of this episode, or will they instead constantly veer back toward the Odyssey and Ovid? All your questions will be answered (or at least obliquely glanced upon) during this week's nautical junket. Ahoy, maties.

Welcome back, Adnavserinos, to the wild world of H.I. Marrou. This week it's Part III, ch. III, entitled The Language Question: Greek and Latin. Here the fearless French historian takes us through bilingualism in the Roman Empire, developing familiar themes and extending them in surprising directions. Sure, the Romans steamrolled militarily over all resistance in East and West, and by the time of Trajan's greatest success in 117 A.D. the Roman Empire extended from Mesopotamia to northern Britain. But did the legions take with them more than bathing, togas, and mosaics for your entryway? Did the Latin language go along for the ride, and how was it received? Surprisingly, says Marrou, Greek was never eclipsed nor canceled, and indeed Romans were all agog to master their Homer and Menander. To serious students of antiquity this is not news, but you may be surprised at the "freshness preserving" directions in which Marrou takes the argument.

Will Book II never end? Will Jason ever stop giving Bobby Bringdown, Milton Melancholy kinds of speeches? What kind of a hero, we ask you, has to be dragged by his crew, with great reluctance, toward his heroic destination? And, does successful storytelling jerk the reader endlessly from peak to trough in terms of the characters' emotional registry? Tune in this week as Jeff and Dave seek to answer these questions and tie up some loose ends from the second quarter of Apollonius' epic effort. As always in this tale, the shadow of Heracles falls wide across the landscape. As Jason and crew come near the Acherusian Cape along the Black Sea coast, famous entrance to the underworld, King Lycus welcomes them with extra xenia. He's glad that the bully Amycus has been defeated, along with the rowdy Bebrycians. But such a warm reception soon grows cold when crew members Idmon and Tiphys meet a quick demise. Cave aprum, O Idmon! So now Lycus must share in the mourning as Colchis finally rolls into view.

It may seem simple. But getting a crew to rise to the occasion, sail a boat to Colchis, and recover the golden fleece is not exactly baked-in. With the Smashing Symplegades lying staight ahead, for the heroes it's tonight, tonight, or never. But this is the voyage Jason and co. signed up for. Tiphys and everyone else have to pull together. So this episode is a mix of stern-scraping action - "Look out, rocks!" - strange digressions, musing on the perfect length for an epic simile, and more. Jeff finds Apollonius' descriptions of Athena's action lovely and compelling, but Dave is still left wondering if Jason qualifies for the title of hero, even after all the Hellenestic stretching of the term. So tune in and find out why people say about this show, in the words of Mary Jenkins, "I was here when you came, baby, and I'll be here when you're gone!"

Is life just unrelenting drudgery? Sure, the Psalmist describes it as a "vale of tears". But that bitterness is routinely alleviated by sweet music, good food, tenderness, friendship, the delight of a clever plan coming together (thanks, George Peppard), tears of joy as well as of sorrow. Or at least there is in real life and in Homer's Odyssey. But there doesn't seem to be much (any?) of those things in Christopher Nolan's unrealistic screen adaptation of the famous epic. Jeff and Dave devoted three hours of their lives to seeing the movie, now they ask you to surrender one hour of yours to listen to their screed. Bottom line? Nolan's Odysseus is a flattened, unimaginative, perpetually depressed character. His Calypso is dull, unappealing, merely therapeutic. His Penelope merely regal, not her husband's witty match as in Homer. And the gods? Though frequently mentioned and referenced, and in the case of Zendaya's Athena occasionally seen, the movie would have been pretty much the same without them. In conclusion, despite the stunning visuals, despite the beautiful scenery, give us the shampoo commercial of Wolfgang Peterson's Troy. And don't even get us started on the music. Back to School coupon code for Dr. Noe's Greek and Latin classes : AUTUMN15.