Meta Description: Join Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe in Ad Navseam Episode 123 as they explore Ovidian vignettes, Arachne’s hubris, King Midas, and resources to master the Latin language.
Introduction: The Cardinal Points of the Bunker
Welcome back, classical gourmands, to Episode 123 of the Ad Navseam Podcast! Broadcasting directly from the subterranean depths of Vomitorium South, your hosts, Dr. David Noe and Dr. Jeff Winkle, return to the microphones for another delectable discussion of Greco-Roman civilization.
The episode opens with a brief geographical history of the podcast’s recording studios. The hosts originally launched the show in Vomitorium East, operating out of the basement of a dentist’s office, before migrating to Vomitorium West inside a Lutheran elementary school. Currently entrenched in Vomitorium South, Dave jokes that they fully intend to hit all the cardinal points of the compass eventually, though Vomitorium North does not yet exist.
Dave is feeling excellent, having just returned from some out-of-state ecclesiastical business and fully recovered from a lingering cold. Summer has officially arrived in Michigan. Jeff notes that adjusting to the educator’s summer schedule often causes the days of the week to completely blur together. He beautifully likens this hazy, melting passage of time to the interlaced, continually shifting narrative structure of an Ovidian epic. Dave praises the smooth literary transition, officially kicking off the episode’s focus: two of their absolute favorite vignettes from Ovid’s Metamorphoses.
Mnemosyne and the Coen Brothers
Before diving into the myth of Arachne, the hosts note that Ovid’s Metamorphoses features over 250 individual mythological stories, assuring the audience they will return to the poet’s masterwork many times.
To set the academic stage, Jeff reads from Julia Hejduk’s 2012 article, Arachne’s Attitude, published in the journal Mnemosyne. Both note the incredible audacity required to name an academic journal after the Greek titaness of memory—and mother of the nine Muses—knowing perfectly well that nobody can easily pronounce it.
Hejduk’s article brilliantly connects a specific line of Arachne’s dialogue (Met. 6.25) to the defiant rhetoric of Turnus in Virgil’s Aeneid Book 12. She argues that the verbal and thematic links are so pervasive that Virgil’s doomed warrior serves as the primary literary model for Ovid’s doomed artist. This shows Hejduk’s philological sensitivity, noting that ancient audiences possessed a profound culture of memory, completely unlike modern society’s reliance on smartphones. The ancients would have instantly recognized these subtle intertextual echoes. Dave compares this dynamic to the Coen Brothers’ 1987 film Raising Arizona, where the directors place pointed Shakespearean allusions into the mouth of Nicolas Cage’s bumbling character. The comedy functions perfectly well on a surface level, but deeply rewards those in the know.
Aviophobia and the Undercover Boss
The first Ovidian vignette focuses on Arachne, the dextrous mortal weaver. Jeff points out that Minerva (Athena) enters this narrative already seething with a massive chip on her shoulder. The goddess has just returned from turning the arrogant daughters of Pierus into magpies following a musical contest. This detail prompts a hilarious tangent regarding the terrifying frequency of people transforming into birds in Ovid’s work. This horror is specific to metamorphosis, as birds don’t have people faces.
Unlike the typical tragic heroines of ancient myth who possess noble or divine lineages, Arachne is a true commoner. She hails from a poor family in Colophon; her mother is dead, and her father makes a humble living dyeing spongy wool with purple murex. Arachne has built a massive reputation entirely through her own astonishing skill, prompting the local nymphs to marvel at her work.
When townspeople suggest that the goddess Pallas Minerva must have taught her, the fiercely independent Arachne takes deep offense, audaciously challenging the goddess to a contest. Minerva responds by disguising herself as a frail old woman and visiting Arachne’s workshop, urging the girl to repent. Jeff compares this divine deception to the modern reality television show Undercover Boss. Arachne, unaware of the disguised deity’s true identity, aggressively berates the “old woman,” demanding to know why the goddess is too cowardly to face her in person.
Tapestries and Dave Grohl’s Autobiography
Minerva drops the disguise, and the weaving battle commences. Ovid contrasts the two competing tapestries. Minerva weaves a highly selective, glowing, and completely sanitized history of the gods, portraying them as paragons of justice and order who graciously bestow civilization upon mortals. Jeff, meanwhile, likens Minerva’s tapestry to Dave Grohl’s recent autobiography; he complains that the Foo Fighters frontman glossed over all the dark, tragic grit of his actual life, preferring to simply brag about hanging out with Paul McCartney at the beach. An autobiography that exposes the raw “dirt,” warts and all, might be better.
Arachne’s tapestry, conversely, is nothing but the dirt. In a mere twenty-four lines of poetry, Ovid describes Arachne weaving twenty-one explicit acts of divine violence and deception, including Jupiter’s nine assaults, Neptune’s six, and Apollo’s four. She masterfully exposes the chaotic, predatory reality of the Olympians.
When the tapestries are finished, Minerva cannot deny the absolute brilliance of Arachne’s work. Consumed by jealous rage, the goddess rips the mortal’s masterpiece to shreds and viciously beats Arachne over the head with a heavy boxwood shuttle. Driven to absolute despair, Arachne fashions a noose and hangs herself. In a twisted display of pity, Minerva spares her life using the magic herbs of Hecate, transforming the girl into a spider and providing a fascinating etiology for the arachnid’s eternal weaving.
The Midas Touch and the Golden Harvest
The second Ovidian vignette explores the tragicomedy of King Midas. The story begins when Phrygian peasants discover an elderly, heavily intoxicated satyr named Silenus stumbling through the woods. Silenus serves as a beloved foster father to the god Bacchus (Dionysus). Midas recognizes the old satyr, rescues him, and happily returns him to Bacchus.
Overjoyed to have his guardian returned safely, Bacchus grants Midas a single wish. Midas greedily asks that everything he touches be transformed into gold. Bacchus grants the “deadly wish,” though Ovid notes the god is deeply disappointed the mortal did not ask for something wiser.
Initially, Midas is deliriously happy. Utilizing Philip Ambrose’s beautiful translation, the hosts describe Midas running around testing his new power. He touches an oak branch, a rock, a clod of dirt, and an apple from the tree, marveling as they instantly turn to solid gold. He even washes his hands and watches the water shimmer like the golden rain of Danae. He plucks heads of ripening grain, creating a literal “golden harvest,” a pun Dave particularly enjoys.
The novelty wears off the moment Midas sits down for an elaborate feast. As his fingers brush the bread, it solidifies into metal. When he attempts to bite his food, his hungry teeth violently press against yellowed plates. He cannot eat, and his throat burns with an unquenchable thirst as his wine turns to molten gold in his mouth.
Unlike the defiant Arachne, Midas recognizes his foolishness right away. He lifts his glistening arms to heaven, begs Bacchus for forgiveness, and begs to be saved from the glittering curse. Dave contrasts this scene with the biblical story of King Solomon, who wisely asked God for the ability to govern with wisdom rather than demanding immense personal wealth. Because Midas openly confesses his sin, the gods show mercy. Bacchus rescinds the gift and orders the king to wash himself in the headwaters of the river Pactolus. As Midas bathes, the golden touch leaves his body and saturates the riverbed, providing a clever etiology for the region’s famously gold-flecked sands.
Sponsors: Fueling the Classical Renaissance
Before delivering the parting shot, the hosts extend their gratitude to the phenomenal sponsors keeping the bunker fully operational.
- Ratio Coffee: Jeff is currently obsessively tracking the delivery of his brand-new “hulking flagon”—a double-walled thermal carafe capable of keeping his Ratio-brewed coffee piping hot for hours without a scorching heat pad. Built to last for decades, these heirloom-quality machines deliver the perfect automated pour-over. Visit ratiocoffee.com and enter the promo code ANCOA6 (the ‘A’ stands for Accessible) to receive a generous 15% discount.
- Hackett Publishing: For 51 years, Hackett Publishing has provided high-quality, incredibly affordable translations to the reading public. Both the Stanley Lombardo and Philip Ambrose translations of Ovid utilized in this episode are readily available in their extensive catalog. Build a phenomenal library at hackettpublishing.com and use the code AN2023 to receive a 20% discount and free shipping on your entire order.
- LatinPerDiem & MossMethod: For listeners inspired to master the Latin language and ancient Greek, Dave offers the perfect educational solution. Go from neophyte to erudite in Greek through 40 comprehensive video modules. Alternatively, explore latinperdiem.com to tackle Hans Ørberg’s Lingua Latina Per Se Illustrata and access thousands of free instructional videos on the YT channel. Use the promo code 10PLUS for a 10% discount on any course.
The Gustatory Parting Shot
To officially close out Episode 123, Jeff delivers a deeply practical Gustatory Parting Shot courtesy of the Southern American travel and food writer, Lewis Grizzard.
Grizzard offers this vital piece of Americana culinary advice:
“Never order barbecue in a place that also serves quiche.”
A special thanks goes out to Mishka the sound engineer for her consistently flawless editing and rapid turnaround times. Musical gratitude is extended to Scott Van Zen, who plays the blistering lead guitar on the intro and outro track “Stay By My Side,” and to Ken Tamplin, who composed the drums, bass, rhythm guitar, and the fantastic bumper music for the ads. Next week, the hosts plan to tackle “Use Your Allusion Part 2,” taking a deep dive into classical references in pop music. Check out the “Lurch with Merch” section on the website, beware of heavily disguised goddesses, and keep taking in the classics. Valete!
