Murder, human sacrifice, cannibalism, parricide, rape, treachery, incest -- every family has its issues.

We begin our discussion of famous dysfunctional families with the Atreidae. The House of Atreus begins with Tantalus. It doesn't end there, not by a long shot, as we shall see.

Initially a favorite of the gods and, by some accounts, a son of Zeus and the nymph Plouto, Tantalus seemed afflicted with a congenital inability to refrain from mischief.

Invited by the gods to dine at Olympus, Tantalus proved a rather ill-mannered guest. He stole ambrosia and nectar, brought it back to Earth, and revealed the secrets of the gods. But read on: it gets worse.

Advised that a sacrifice might get him out of Dutch with the Olympians, Tantalus again couldn't resist pushing the envelope. Wondering if the gods really were omniscient, Tantalus cut up his own son, Pelops (eponym of the Peloponneseus) and cooked the boy into a stew, just to see if the gods would notice. By and large, the Olympians did notice, uttered a collective, "Eeww!" and didn't touch the meal. Demeter, understandably preoccupied by the recent abduction of her daughter, Persephone, by Hades, absentmindedly chowed down and ate part of the boy's shoulder. Zeus ordered Fate to sort the mess out, which she did by collecting all the remaining Pelops bits and boiling them together in a sacred cauldron. Hephaestus fashioned a replacement shoulder bone of ivory, since even the gods didn't want anything to do with anything that had already been down someone's gastrointestinal tract.

Having had all of Tantalus' crap they were going to, the Olympians tossed him into Tartarus, the deepest portion of the Underworld, reserved for evildoers. There he stands, neck deep in water that recedes whenever he tries to slake his thirst and with branches of low-hanging fruit overhead that rise out of his reach whenever he tries to assuage his hunger -- hence, the English word tantalize.

In addition to Pelops, Tantalus had another son, Broteas, and a daughter, Niobe.

Moral: Good manners are never wasted.

Broteas became a famous hunter. But he refused to pay homage to Artemis, goddess of the hunt. She drove him mad, causing him to make a burnt offering of himself to the gods.

Moral: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Niobe married Amphion, King of Thebes, and had seven sons and seven daughters. She had it pretty good until, in an early version of a reality TV show, she decided to talk smack about another woman.

The woman in question, Leto, was a goddess. She had two children, the twins Artemis and Apollo. One day, at the festival of Leto, Niobe appeared dressed in her finest gladrags and bling, her face "as beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be" (Bullfinch's Mythology). Niobe started calling out Leto: "Why do you worship her and not me? I'm rich, I'm powerful, my mom and dad were all that and a bag of grapes. I'm as hot as any goddess you've ever seen -- hell, you haven't even seen this Leto. I've got seven times as many children as that broad, what does that tell you? I'm the bomb and I'm always going to be the bomb, you dig?"

Needless to say, Leto wasn't going to let that pass. She sent Artemis to kill Niobe's daughters and Apollo to take care of the sons. Amphion either committed suicide or was killed by Apollo for vowing revenge. Niobe fled to Mount Sipylus: there Artemis, turned Niobe to stone as she wept incessantly, water pouring from her rocky complexion -- you can run, but you can't hide. Niobe Rock, a natural limestone formation resmbling a human face on Mount Sipylus, leaks rainwater through its pores and has been associated with Niobe since ancient times.

Moral: Don't let you mouth write a check that your a** can't cash.

Having finished with the opening acts, we now move to the main event.

Having recovered from his ordeal of being hacked to bits, cooked, partially eaten, and reconstituted, Pelops was then kidnapped by Poseidon and taken to Olympus. Poseidon made Pelops his apprentice and taught him to drive the divine chariot (this will be important later). The two of them seemed to have a same-sex domestic partnership there as well but, hey, as long as I don't have to change the sheets, it's all good. Zeus, however, wasn't through being hacked off with Tantalus -- this guy carried a grudge in a satchel, for Pete's sake -- and eventually threw Pelops out of Olympus. Or maybe it was the domestic partnership thing. Whatever.

Back on Earth, Pelops took a shine to Hippodamia, daughter of King Oenomaus of Pisa (now known as Olympia; not to be confused with the Italian city with the bit of uneven arhitecture). Oenomaus, though, had his own issues: he either wanted to keep his daughter for himself, or he had received a prophecy that he would be killed by his son-in-law. Either way, he was even more dubious of his daughter's suitors than most dads are inclined to be. He killed thirteen of them after defeating them in a chariot race and placed their heads on the wooden columns surrounding his palace. You might want to check for similar issues the next time you answer an ad on Match.com.

Other men might have decided there were sufficient fish in the sea, but this is Tantalus' kid we're talking about. He rang up Poseidon and, reminding him of their love ("Aphrodite's sweet gifts") asked for help. Poseidon obliged by giving Pelops the ultimate pimpmobile, a chariot drawn by winged horses. Sweet!

Taking the belt-and-suspenders approach (the sight of heads on columns tends to make one cautious) Pelops went to Oenomaus' charioteer, Myrtilus, a son of Hermes, with some promises he never intended to keep. Specifically, Pelops promised Myrtilus half the kingdom and Hippodamia's virginity if he would sabotage Oenomaus' chariot. Myrtilus agreed and replaced the bronze linchpins attaching the wheels to the axles of Oenomaus' chariot with fake ones made of beeswax. The race began and went on for a long time. Just as Oenomaus was closing in for the kill (literally) the wheels parted company with his chariot. Myrtilus survived, but Oenomaus was dragged to death behind his horses.

Pelops killed Myrtilus by throwing him over a cliff, into the sea, when Myrtilus tried to collect the first installment on his contract with Pelops (Hippodamia's virginity). As he fell to his death, Myrtilus put a curse on Pelops and his descendants.

Moral: If you have to kill a guy, do it in such a way that he never knows what hit him. I'm serious. You'll see.

Pelops had twin sons by Hippodamia, Atreus (bet you were wondering when we'd get to him) and Thyestes. He had a third son, Chrysippus, from an extracurricular dalliance with the nymph Axioche. Chrysippus, however, was Pelops' favorite and his intended heir to the throne. There's just something about those nymphs, I suppose.

Hippodamia wasn't about to go for that, so she sent Atreus and Thyestes to murder Chrysippus. Chrysippus himself had had a rough life, having been kidnapped by his tutor, Laius of Thebes, who took the boy to Thebes and raped him. The gods slapped Laius, his family and his city over this one -- hard! We'll examine this in greater detail in another Hub.

Incensed by the murder of Chrysippus, Pelops banished Hippodamia, Atreus and Thyestes. They took refuge in Mycenae, where Hippodamia hanged herself.  Atreus and Thyestes became temporary stewards of the throne in the absence of King Eurystheus, who was off fighting the Heracleidae, but became the city's permanent rulers after Eurystheus was killed in battle.

Atreus had two sons, Agamemnon and Menelaus. Among Thyestes' children were a daughter, Pelopia, and a son, Aegisthus. This gets important (and complicated) later: remember, we're talking about Tantalus' grandkids here.

Moral: Don't wait until things have gotten entirely out of hand to seek family counseling.

Atreus promised to sacrifice the best lamb of his flock to Artemis. Searching for a suitable candidate, he came across a golden lamb, something you don't see every day. He gave the lamb to his wife, Aerope, to hide from the goddess. What Atreus didn't know (the husband always is the last to know) was that his wife was honking around with his brother, Thyestes. Thyestes then suggested to Atreus that whoever had the lamb should be king. Atreus agreed (Sucker!) whereupon Thyestes produced the lamb and claimed the throne all for himself.

Atreus rang up Hermes for some help. Thyestes agreed to give up the throne when the sun moved backward in the sky (Sucker!). Thyestes was unaware that Atreus had a ringer on his team, Zeus by name, who was able to accomplish that very feat. Atreus then banished Thyestes.

Moral: Keep your resume current. 

Having finally caught on to having been cuckolded by his own brother, Atreus went over the top as only someone late seeing the light (Duh!) can.

Atreus murdered Thyestes' sons and cooked them, save for their hands and feet. He fed them to Thyestes and taunted Thyestes with the hands and feet. It's enough to make one swear off Greek dinner parties forever.

So now Thyestes is bent out of shape and seeks advice from an oracle. The oracle tells Thyestes that if he has a son by his own daughter, Pelopia, the boy will grow up to kill Atreus. Thyestes thinks this is a good idea and does the nasty with Pelopia, who gives birth to Aegisthus.

Ashamed of her incestuous act, however, Pelopia abandoned Aegisthus after his birth. The infant was found by a shepherd, who gave him to Atreus. Atreus raised the boy as his own son. Only after Aegisthus grew to manhood did Thyestes reveal himself to the young man as his natural father and grandfather. Rather than take some time out to wrap his head around this rather odd revelation, the young man killed Atreus (his uncle) and he and his father/grandfather took the throne of Mycenae. Atreus' sons, Menelaus and Agamemnon, fled to Sparta, where they were given refuge by King Tyndareus.

Moral: McDonald's isn't necessarily your worst dinner option. 

Tyndareus took quite a liking to the two Mycenaen boys. He gave his daughter, Clytemnestra, in marriage to Agamemnon and her sister, Helen, to Menelaus. On his death, Tyndareus willed his kingdom to Menelaus. Menelaus and the Spartans then took Mycenae from Thyestes and Aegisthus, and installed Agamemnon on the throne. Agamemnon extended his rule by conquest, eventually becoming the most powerful king in Greece.

Things were uneventful until Paris, prince of Troy, paid a state visit to Sparta. Not content with stuffing a few pieces of silverware, a goblet or two, maybe some fancy, embrioidered linens into his luggage as souvenirs, he made off with the Queen herself, Helen (yes, that Helen). This, of course, meant war, whereas bath towels probably wouldn't. Agamemnon, being a good brother, came to Menelaus' aid as commander-in-chief of the Achaens (ancient Greeks). This is where the trouble began.

The average Greek guy wasn't overly enthusiastic about being ripped away from home and hearth for an indefinite period of time, risking death and dismemberment, over some other guy's domestic tiff.  Still, Agamemnon managed to round them up. Having assembled his army, however, Agamemnon found himself becalmed in port in Boeotia. The explanations vary, but they all boil down to a ticked-off goddess: Artemis. According to Aeschylus, Artemis was angry for all the Greeks who would die at Troy: plenty of other fish in the sea, especially for guys who go by the name King and have the palaces and chariots and stuff to back it up. Sophocles explained that Agamemnon had slain an animal sacred to Artemis and subsequently boasted that he was her equal at hunting. This latter explanation seems to make more sense, given Agamemnon's reputation as an arrogant, um, person -- at Troy, he insulted both Cryses and Achilles, bringing disaster to the Greek army -- and the subsequent resolution of the weather issue. Anyway, Agamemnon found a seer who told him that Artemis would be appeased if Agamemnon sacrificed Iphigenia, the most beautiful of his two daughters. Agamemnon thought this was a good idea, lured Iphigenia to Boeotia with a promise of marriage to Achilles, and killed her. The wind picked up, the Greeks sailed to Troy, a wooden horse got built, and the rest is history (okay, myth). After the fall of Troy, Agamemnon took Cassandra, daughtr of the slain king Priam, as his new concubine -- more souvenir hunting, spoils of war and all that. Cassandra was blessed with the ability to see the future and cursed that no one would believe her, so when she tried to warn Agamemnon off, he thought she was just playing hard-to-get. You can't really blame him: the Trojans didn't believe her when she told them to leave that darn horse outside.

Meanwhile, back at Mycenae, Clytemnestra is steamed. Killing their own daughter to help his brother get his honey-bunny back? Maybe ol' Ag wants Helen for himself! Seeing the main chance, Aegisthus (remember him?) seduces Clytemnestra and the two plot to kill Agamemnon on his return.

And what a homecoming! I mean, here he was supposed to be out there, working his fingers to the bone, risking life and limb for his brother's honor, and when he finally gets back, Agamemnon pitches up, casual as can be, la-de-da, with some young slut he's been knocking boots (sandals?) with! And they have twins already??!!! Oh, you just tore your a** now, Buster! Clytemnestra takes an axe to Agamemnon in his bath, then she and Aegisthus do in Cassandra and the twins (Pelops and Teledamus).

Moral: When you tell your wife you have to work late and won't be home for a few years, stick to the script!

In addition to the late Iphigenia, Agamemnon and Clytenestra had two other children: a girl, Electra, and a boy, Orestes. Orestes was absent from Mycenae when his father was murdered, either having been sent away to prevent him from witnessing the deed or spirited away by his older sister, to prevent Clytemnestra and Aegisthus from killing him out of fear of eventual revenge.

Aegisthus and Clytemnestra ruled Mycenae as king and queen for eight years. Orestes was living at Mount Parnassus, as a guest of King Strophius. Electra (the psychological concept of the Electra complex is named after her) contacted him and urged him to return to Mycenae and avenge their father's death. Orestes, somewhat conflicted about the prospect of murdering his own mothr, rang up Apollo for some advice. Apollo (not Nike, in this case) said, "Just do it!" Orestes and his road-dog Pylades, son of King Strophius, packed their bags and headed for Mycenae.

Orestes killed his mom and her squeeze (his cousin), then went nuts. He was pursued by the Erinyes, some half-dressed but shrill babes to judge by their picture, whose job it was to punish any violations of the ties of family piety -- murdering your mom, for example. Orestes attempted to take refuge in the temple of Apollo at Delphi, but the screeching apparently was too much even for Apollo, who suddenly remembered an urgent appointment.

Eventually, even the gods tire of an episode of The Osbornes without end. Athena received Orestes on the acropolis of Athens and convened a trial of twelve Attic judges. The Erinyes prosecuted, demanding the maximum sentence. Orestes, acting as his own attorney, pleaded orders of Apollo. The judges deadlocked, 6 - 6, whereupon Athena cast her deciding vote for acquittal. The Erinyes were propitiated with a promotion to Eumenides. Orestes built a temple to Athena Areia. That's according to Aeschylus, anyway.

Euripedes had a more complicated version. According to E-dog, Apollo told Orestes that, if he wanted the Erinyes of his back, he'd have to go to Tauris (modern day Crimea) grab a statue of Artemis (her again!) that had fallen from heaven (always ensure that items on upper shelves are properly secured) and bring it back to Athens. Orestes and Pylades go to Tauris but are captured by the locals, who have an unfortunate practice of sacrificing Greeks to Artemis. The high priestess of Artemis is none other than Iphigenia who, instead of being killed by her dad, was spirited away to Tauris. She offers to spare one of them if he will take a letter from her back to Greece. Orestes tells Pylades to go -- even death is better than another minute of those screeching nags! -- but the letter brings about a recognition between brother and sister. The three of them then grab the statue, return to Greece, and live happily ever after.

Moral: Keep your options open for one more sequel.

I'll have more Hubs on dysfunctional families of myth, legend, and fact. Comments and suggestions are encouraged.