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This week the guys are back with more mottos, from the muddled to the magnificent, from bland to grand. But this time they have their sights set on the apophthegms of colleges and universities around the globe. And it is a roller coaster—which ones make the cut? Which make no sense at all? Which ones could use some spicing up? And what’s with those prone ursines lazing about in the American southwest? So come join in the fun, whether or not you agree that Sparty needs a serious makeover or you are a proud alum of UdoU. Quaecumque, ὤνθρωπε.

Well, the Ides of March may have already come and gone, but the guys are determined to jump headlong into one of the most famous dates and deaths in world history. C’mon, you might say, we all had to suffer through that Shakespeare play in 10th grade, right? Haven’t we all heard this one before? Well, let us ask you—have you heard it involving a close comparison of the existing ancient accounts, on-the-fly translation improvements, the lurid umbra of res flagitiosa, that kid from Spider-man, and Jeff carping about an unsolicited “Senior Discount”? Methinks (as old Willy S. might say) not. So don’t be a Brute--take a stab at this one, hear all the gory details, and even Google Map your way through Rome to the feline sanctuary where the deed went down.

This week the guys welcome back to the studio esteemed friend and mentor Dr. Ken Bratt. You may remember him from such episodes as "From there We Travelled to Philippi" (AN46). An expert in material culture, Ken leads us on an historical and archaeological tour of the catacombs around Rome. We stop off at San Callisto, San Sebastian, and touch on a few of the lesser-known spots as we learn of pagan, Jewish, and Christian burial. Did Christians really worship in these catacombs with Judah Ben Hur, or is that simply more Hollywood folderol? What about the adaptation of pagan art forms for Christian burials, mastedons and mammoths, and the veracity of relics? Along the way we learn how St. Sebastian, though perforated like a pincushion, headed back to rebuke Diocletian (Die Hardest?). And your intestinal fortitude will be tested once again by one's of Dave's most egregious puns.

It’s the summer of 415 BC and the Athenians (in the middle of a devastating war with Sparta) are debating whether to launch a naval expedition against colonies in Sicily. General Nicias says “no”, but here comes wonder boy Alcibiades who makes the assembly swoon, what with his silver tongue, chariot laurels, wavy hair, and chiseled abs, and it’s off to Sicily we go. But wait! On the night before departure somebody mutilates a bunch of herms in the city and maybe even performs a drunken satire of sacred mysteries! Questions invite questions: was it Alcibiades? If so, does he deserve the death penalty? Why would you want one of those scurrilous statues on your street corner? And don’t miss the following defections, deflections, and rejections.  Pull up a chair, check your emergency umlaut supply, and crack open a case of Löwenbräu. You can’t make this stuff up.

The guys wrap up their three-part dive into De Natura Deorum, and this time it is Cotta the Academic’s turn up at the plate. Where will Cotta (our stand-in for Cicero himself here) land on all this? Does he just want some friendly clarification of earlier arguments or is he out to fully dismantle both Velleius and Balbus (see previous two episodes)? Or is this dialogue's most important feature what it reveals about the differences between Greek and Roman philosophy? Even a skeptic like Cotta has a place in his heart for reading birds' signs and sheep livers, and Numa's capeduncula. But why? Be sure to stick around for some ramen noodles and a twist ending that would have even The Usual Suspects and The Sixth Sense doing a slow, golf clap.

In this first of a three-parter, Dave and Jeff set up a deep dive into a fascinating late work of Cicero in which representatives of the three major Hellenistic schools of thought (Epicurean, Stoic, and Academic) debate the nature and existence of the gods. Is their existence sure, doubtful, or impossible? And what is Cicero up to? Is he the Milli Vanilli of ancient philosophy, just lip-synching to Plato’s and Zeno’s greatest hits? Or is there some essential, original material here? What do we mean by “originality” in an ancient context? Sidle up to the buffet, and serve up a heapin' helpin' of ennui as Dave blows the thick dust off his dissertation…Cicero’s very reputation as a philosopher is at stake.