Decipherments of the Phaistos Disk: NOT!

My favorite undeciphered script is the one found on the Phaistos disk, the flat circle of clay about six inches across found in the Heraklion Museum on Crete. The disk itself was discovered in 1908 and it has been deciphered every few years ever since. Unfortunately, no two people agree on what it says, as I mentioned before. Since so many other people are interested in this topic, I thought I’d include a few of the decipherments, just to show how different they can be. The first one comes from German and can be found at http://www.phaestos-disk.de/sm06.htm in case you want to read more (there’s lots more where this came from). In this version, it’s a very involved calendar and the symbols are ideograms or, to use the more common expression, pictograms. I should point out right off the bat, I like this idea just because all the real linguists agree that this is wrong. That’s because there are about 45 different symbols, many of which repeat. This fact convinces most experts it’s a syllabary, in which each symbol represents the sound of a syllable, like pa or su or ri. Being excessively contrary, I quite enjoy decipherments that fly in the face of what everyone “knows.”

 

Now, the very famous archeologist, Sir Arthur Evans, listed all of the symbols on the disk at one time, early in the 20^th century, giving what he thought they depicted, and enumerated them. Our German author, Bernd Schomburg of Cologne, gives this enumeration but takes issue with some of these descriptions, then enumerates them somewhat differently and oddly, also assigning them specific meanings. His meanings are in all caps. To show how subjective one can be (as well as silly, if one really wants to be), I’ve added my own, completely impossible designations as a third category in square brackets underneath each of the others, for quick reference later.

(1)    Evans: No. 1, Running Man; Schomburg No. 11, Running Man: RUN or (RACE) COURSE [Mine: the Jogger].

(2)    Evans: No. 2, Man’s head with feather decoration; Schomburg No. 19, Head of a young man: BEGINNING [Mine: the Mohawk].

(3)    Evans: No. 3, Head with earrings; Schomburg No. 2, Head of a bald-headed priest: MONARCH [Mine: the Slave face, because of the apparent brand on his cheek].

(4)    Evans: No. 4, Prisoner; Schomburg No. 1, Man with a protractor: ASTRONOMER [Mine: the Liar, hiding his hands behind his back where his fingers are probably crossed].

(5)    Evans: No. 5, Child; Schomburg No. 1, Child of the earth: MOON [Mine: the Fat Guy, because he’s fatter than the other standing figures].

(6)    Evans: No. 6, Woman with short dress; Schomburg No. 4, Earth mother with child: GODDESS or EARTH MOTHER [Mine: the skirted Lady; she’s got a Minoan-style flounced skirt, not a short skirt, and she’s topless, but there’s no child in there!].

(7)    Evans: No. 7, Female breast; Schomburg No. 18, Female breast: EARTH [Mine: the Beanie – unless it’s a loaf of bread with a cherry on top].

(8)    Evans: No. 8, Bandaged fist; Schomburg No. 5, Invisible hand: GOD or HEAVEN’S HELMSMAN (or Ruler) [Mine: the Catcher’s Mitt].

(9)    Evans: No. 9, Tiara; Schomburg No. 2, Tent: CANOPY OF HEAVEN [Mine: the Nutcracker].

(10) Evans: No. 10, Arrow; Schomburg No. 2, Scepter: SCEPTER [Mine: the frazzled Toothbrush].

(11) Evans: No. 11, Bow; Schomburg No. 1, Bow: INTERCALARY DAY [Mine: the Strangled snake].

(12) Evans: No. 12, Shield; Schomburg No. 17, Circle with seven dots: SIMULTANEOUS or CONCURRENT [Mine: the Cookie].

(13) Evans: No. 13, Club or cudgel; Schomburg No. 6, Ear (of grain): YEAR [Mine: the Emery board].

(14) Evans: No. 14, Handcuffs or manacles; Schomburg No. 2, Ink containers: TO WRITE [Mine: two Sand buckets].

(15) Evans: No. 15, Axe; Schomburg No. 1, Axe: TO DIVIDE (or separate, split) [Even I have to admit it’s an axe.]

(16) Evans: No. 16, Dagger; Schomburg No. 2, Engraving tool: TO ENGRAVE [Mine: the half-eaten Ice cream cone].

(17) Evans: No. 17, Cutting instrument; Schomburg No. 1, Pit-Knife: SACRIFICIAL FESTIVAL [Mine: the Flying saucer].

(18) Evans: No. 18, (Carpenter’s) square; Schomburg No. 12, Angle: BIG or IMPORTANT [Mine: the Boomerang].

(19) Evans: No. 19, (Carpenter’s) plane; Schomburg No. 3, Protractor: DISTANCE or STATE [Mine: the little letter “y”].

(20) Evans: No. 20, Vase; Schomburg No. 2, Wine Rhyton: DAY or RELIGIOUS HOLIDAY [Mine: the Jug].

(21) Evans: No. 21, Double comb; Schomburg No. 2, Calendar symbol: TWO HALF VENUS PERIODS [Mine: the prickly “E”].

(22) Evans: No. 22, Double flute; Schomburg No. 5, Leather water container: TOP and RAIN [Mine: the upside-down “Y”].

(23) Evans: No. 23, Drumstick; Schomburg No. 11, Pillar: WATCH OUT! or PAY ATTENTION! [Mine: the Meat tenderizer].

(24) Evans: No. 24, Pagoda-like building; Schomburg No. 6, Stepped tomb: NIGHT [Mine: the Boar’s-tusk helmet, like what Odysseus wore in the Iliad].

(25) Evans: No. 25, Ship with curved prow; Schomburg No. 7, Central constellation: SHIP OF HEAVEN (or SKY SHIP) [Mine: the Toy boat with a Lego man in it].

(26) Evans: No. 26, Ox horn; Schomburg No. 6, Ox horn: PLANET’S PATH [Mine: the Decapitated earthworm].

(27) Evans: No. 27, Animal skin; Schomburg No. 15, Ox hide: CYCLE [Mine: the Teddy bear].

(28) Evans: No. 28, Ox foot; Schomburg No. 2, Ox leg: HEAVEN’S MOTIVE or DRIVE [Mine: I like to think that this isn’t just any old cow hoof but the leg of that Bull of Heaven which Gilgamesh once ripped off and threw in the face of Miss Inanna/Ishtar.]

(29) Evans: No. 29, Cat’s head; Schomburg No. 11, Dog’s head: ORBITAL PATH [Mine: I happen to think it’s a WEASEL’S head, one of the bad guys from Wind in the Willows, my favorite children’s book.]

(30) Evans: No. 30, Ram’s head; Schomburg No. 1, Ram’s head: CONSTELLATION OF ARIES [Mine:  I think it’s that goat’s head my granny said it was good to have as a second, to help do the thinking when we accomplished some difficult task, as in, “Two heads are better than one, even if one is a goat’s head, and I ain’t sayin’ which one is the goat’s head!”]

(31) Evans: No. 31, Flying eagle with snake; Schomburg No. 5, Flying bird: APPEARANCE OF VENUS [Mine: Flying bird that’s laying two eggs simultaneously – hey, for all we know, it could be the eagle that once gave Etana a ride on its back and is now dropping him!].

(32) Evans: No. 32, Dove; Schomburg No. 3, Dove: ½ MONTH [Mine: Standing birdie, and I think it’s a plain, old pigeon, so there!]

(33) Evans: No. 33, Fish; Schomburg No. 6, Fish: MIDDLE [Mine: okay, so it’s a Fishie – I’m surprised Evans didn’t try to claim it was a halibut or tuna!]

(34) Evans: No. 34, Butterfly; Schomburg No. 3, Butterfly or Moth: UNSYMMETRICAL [Mine: the Bee – this bug’s wings are too small for a butterfly and too round for a moth, so there, again!]

(35) Evans: No. 35, perhaps a Vine; Schomburg No. 11, Sprig of laurel: HIGHEST and HIGHER [Mine: the Doubled Y – say, does anybody know what hemlock looks like?]

(36) Evans: No. 36, Olive branch; Schomburg No. 4, Shrub (or bush): BELOW or VEGETATION [Mine: the Fancy Y]

(37) Evans: No. 37, Plant; Schomburg No. 4, Flower: PERIOD (or cycle) [Mine: the Bud]

(38) Evans: No. 38, perhaps a Syrax; Schomburg No. 4, Eight-petal Rosette: CALENDAR [Mine: the Daisy]

(39) Evans: No. 39, Saffron flower; Schomburg No. 4, Bird-footprint (?): IN THE SIGN [Mine: the Tulip].

(40) Evans: No. 40, Undefined; Schomburg No. 6, Parted hair: SYMMETRICAL [Mine: the Bunny ears].

(41) Evans: No. 41, Undefined; Schomburg No. 1, Bars of copper, a talent (an ancient measure of metal): FULL [Mine: two Doggy bones].

(42) Evans: No. 42, Undefined; Schomburg No. 1, Caterpillar (or grub) / Stars: STARRY SKY [Mine: this looks just like my favorite Chinese Slicer-dicer tool after I fetched it out of an inadvertent trip down the garbage disposal].

(43) Evans: No. 43, Undefined; Schomburg No. 1, Triangle / Stars: TRADITIONS or WRITINGS [Mine: the polka-dotted Triangle and in American parlance it’s also upside-down].

(44) Evans: No. 44, Undefined; Schomburg No. 1, “Excenter” [a German word that’s not in my dictionary]: MECHANISM [Mine: the Nacho].

(45) Evans: No. 45, Undefined; Schomburg No. 6, Sinus Curve: YEAR’S TIME [Mine: the Two Wavy Lines, which look a whole lot like the Chinese character for “water” in Old Seal writing].

 

Schomburg says that the disk is a complicated calendar, calculating the sun’s apparent orbit around the earth, together with that of the moon and the planet Venus. But where’s the evidence that the Minoans worshipped Venus, or even paid more attention to its motions than, say, those of Mars or Jupiter? The Mayans were very big on Venus but I don’t see it for the people of ancient Crete. Maybe I missed something or translated from the German badly.

 

Moving along, we have Dr. Barry Fell, and his match-up between the symbols on the disk and those of Linear A, which he considers still undeciphered but, nevertheless, knows all the sounds for (no doubt from comparing them, in turn, to Linear B, deciphered by Michael Ventris). So the catcher’s mitt is pronounced shu, the polka-dotted triangle su, the half-eaten ice cream cone ze, the tulip zi, the slicer-dicer ni, the boomerang ma, the doubled-Y ru, the flying-bird ka, the nacho lu, and the meat tenderizer sa. Then the fancy Y is ra, the teddy bear ri, and the emery board ne, but the Linear A symbol here is identical to that previously given the pronunciation of ni. Oh dear! Banish that observation to the scholars’ Delta of Dirty Data!

 

Now, the jug is pa, the axe hu, something that looks like a match is called kwa (perhaps this is that toothbrush, drawn a bit obscurely), the bunny ears qe (pronounced kwe), and the two sand buckets tu (but they’re turned upside-down so the sand has been dumped out). That leg ripped off the Cow of Heaven is zu, while the little “y” is ra.  By the way, if you’d like to take a quick little trip down to the website and check it out for the rest of these identifications, here it is: http://www.equinox-project.com/v047903.htm. The article is called “Decipherment of the Phaistos Disk” by Dr. Barry Fell, in The Epigraphic Society Occasional Papers (Vol. 4, No. 79). Once all the signs with matches in Linear A have been dealt with, there are “five anthropomorphic signs” left over, which are “peculiar to” the disk. This means they are people but they do have sounds, so never fear. The Mohawk is se, the slave face is she, the liar is le, the fat kid is pe, and the skirted lady is be.

 

Those straight lines which everybody else says are word dividers are here taken to be pangkun, something found in old Javan script. That’s all very well and good as a parallel, but apparently Dr. Fell relates the language on the Phaistos disk partly to Anatolian and also to Polynesian. In other words, the people who made this disk spoke something related on their mommy’s side to Hittite and Luwian (which flourished in the Bronze Age and died out with the Roman Empire), but on their daddy’s side to modern Hawaiian, Tahitian, and Samoan. This is quite astonishing since no Polyesian language would have existed when the disk was created, if it’s authentic. That would seem to rule out the mama language being Anatolian unless she was dead when the disk was made. Most awkward! The ancestor of the Malayo-Polynesian languages would have been around back in 1700 BCE, of course, when the Minoans were writing on clay, but the speakers of this proposed daddy language would have been in Malaysia back then, not in the Mediterranean. Nevertheless, I’ll still give Dr. Fell’s imaginative translation for Side A:

There’s another attempted decipherment, this one by Keith and Kevin Massey, entitled less confidently “The Phaistos Disk Cracked?” They, too, observe that certain symbols on the Phaistos disk resemble some others, not in Linear A, but in its descendant, Linear B. This is based on a slightly different assumption concerning the age of the disk. They also compare the earlier, hieroglyphic script found on Crete and the still later, syllabic script found on Cyprus, which is appropriately called Cypriotic. Comparing the known scripts of Linear B and Cypriotic to the unknown Phaistos Disk symbols is a good start.

 

Using this method, they propose a couple of possibilities. The two wavy lines are either ra or zo, depending on whether this sign is like Linear B or Cypriotic. The headless worm might be wi (Linear B only) and the flying bird ku (also in Linear B, though this more schematic bird has no eggs as the Phaistos version does). The catcher’s mitt is matched up with no (Linear B) and ke (Cypriotic). The toothbrush is se (in both writing systems). So it goes. They show a tidy table with the possibilities. However, having come this far, the Masseys do something truly astonishing. They decide they are on the wrong track! So they stop and give up on that procedure. They finally proceed further by looking at another script, one which was found at the Near Eastern city of Byblos. In their long and thorough paper, they have a full discussion of the decipherment of the Byblic script, and why they think it relates to that on the Phaistos disk, and to the various early Aegean scripts.

 

With this new Byblic type of comparisons, they provisionally decide that our fishie from the Phaistos disk is M, the beanie T, the two wavy lines R, the catcher’s mitt K, and both birdies (the flying one and the standing one) K. Then, the decapitated worm is W, the cookie S, the boomerang W like the birdies, the fancy “y” R like the Chinese water, the meat tenderizer T like the beanie, and the polka dot triangle P. The toothbrush is yet another R, the emery board N, the nutcracker a second P, and the hoof of that Heavenly Bull is S. Next, the various people – the jogger, the skirted lady, the liar, and the fat kid – are all vowels, unassigned as yet.

 

For their next step, these authors devote a section to determining which direction to read the symbols. Few would-be decipherers bother with this important issue. Usually they just start reading, whether from the center outward or from the outside in. But the Masseys discuss the issue, give close-up photos so that the reader can form an opinion, and show why they think what they do. They note that some overlaps of signs occur and these always show the one on the right partially on top of the sign on the left. This is pretty good evidence that the disk was originally stamped from left to right. Usually, things are read in the same direction that they are written, as the authors note.

 

However, people don’t always read the way things are written, especially if an illiterate person copies a text, something our intrepid authors fail to consider. Perhaps the use of stamps suggests this very possibility that the copyist wouldn’t have to be literate. But, what do I know? I only studied Egyptian hieroglyphs, where the scribes would sometimes write out what should be painted or carved, say, on the inside of a pyramid or on an obelisk. Then, some illiterate painter or sculptor would take over and copy the text, occasionally making some interesting mistakes which students of Egyptian hieroglyphs enjoy laughing over to this day. When I was young (long, long ago), it was almost a proverb to complain about the difficulty of reading stereo instructions apparently written by someone who wasn’t thoroughly literate in English.

 

The Masseys make another observation concerning what many others overlook, a little slash attached to some signs. About 17 of the 61 supposedly distinct words on the disk have this, and two always have it, words which these authors transcribe as T-R and K-T-R. They take these two words to be numbers in an Indo-European language, possibly Greek. They also take that most common “ending,” the Cookie + Mohawk, to be K-Y, interpreting it as akin to the old Latin ending –que, “and.” Beanie + two wavy lines + weasel head becomes T-R-Y in this system, which they relate to Greek tria, “three.” The beanie has the slash. Jogger + Heavenly Oxhoof = E-S (compare Greek hes, “one”). The jogger has the slash. Catcher’s mitt + beanie + fancy Y + weasel head = K-T-R-Y, or Mycenean Greek qetures “four.” They figure that most of the slashed words are numbers, although they can’t quite analyze every single sign or even every single number word.

 

This very lack of certainty, to me, makes their analysis more convincing than most of the others I’ve seen. The people who translate tablets and papyri from known scripts and known civilizations typically leave words here and there untranslated, things they can’t figure out, or bits and pieces they aren’t sure of. This is true of Egyptian hieroglyphs, the code for which was first “cracked” back before the American Civil War by Jean-Francois Champollion. This is still true of all the ancient languages written in cuneiform, too. This being so, how can somebody possibly look at one lone disk and come up with a perfect translation, all by himself, without a single gap, without a single question mark? I just don’t believe it! So, when the Masseys come up with only a partial suggestion, full of questions, and mentioning assistance received from others, I am more inclined to pay attention.

 

They suggest that, in the end, perhaps the disk is only a receipt of a type not normally kept permanently, something like an IOU. They note that most of the tablets in Linear B seem to be receipts for payment of taxes. Perhaps the disk was similar. When the fellow came and paid what he owed, perhaps the clerk would destroy the receipt normally, to show the taxes were paid.  “This would explain our lack of numerous Phaistos disks in the archaeological record.” It’s a fascinating, if untestable, idea.

 

One last note is worth sharing. The Masseys point out that one of their contributors saw a pattern in the numbers they think they found on this disk. The two main numbers on the recto side were six and one (which add up to seven). The two main numbers on the verso side are four and three (which also add up to seven). I immediately thought of the fact that seven was a magic number in the Near East, where Byblos is. But that’s not what the Masseys noticed. No, they concluded that the number system on our famous disk must be duodecimal, based on twelve! That’s because half of twelve is six, and you can divide twelve by four and get three (and vice versa). The word twelve also appears on the disk in the form T-W-T-K (polka-dotted-triangle + boomerang + meat tenderizer + half-eaten-ice-cream-cone). Well, it is possible. The Babylonians were quite fond of 60, the Sumerians based their smaller numbers on five, and other people were really into 20. There’s truly nothing sacred about 10 and a decimal system. Why not 12? Still, if it’s Indo-European, as they suggest, we wouldn’t expect anything but a decimal system since all the known daughter languages have decimal systems (more or less).

 

I’m not entirely convinced that they are right, but I’d like to see them try this system on that mysterious axe from Arkalokhori (the name of which seems never to be spelled exactly the same twice). I don’t see why anybody would want to write a receipt on an axe. I would expect an inscription on it to read like those on the ancient pots found in Italy, which precede the days of the Romans, saying essentially: “Joe Schmoe made me.”

 

Wandering over to Lexiline, I discovered yet another decipherment, this one Andis Kaulins’. This one states that the text is mathematical and contains a pre-Euclidean geometrical proof of lemma regarding the “paradox of parallel lines,” similar to that used much later by the mathematician Lobachevsky. This math proof would have been used by the Minoans to calculate solstices and equinoxes, says our intrepid translator. This author, like many others, is certain that the language is archaic Greek. 

 

The syllabic values of the signs differ once again: The Mohawk is pa, the daisy ra, the emery board ke (with an acute accent), the jogger phew (using the Greek letter phi), the boomerang nw (why not nu I don’t know). The boar’s tusk helmet is na/no (the latter with an accent), the nacho su, the two wavy lines dw, the bee xi (presumably the first letter being from Greek again), the liar dew (with an accent). The teddy is ka, the standing bird pha (beginning with English letters this time). The skirted lady is si, the flying bird now li, the beheaded worm loi, the little “y” being da, the meat tenderizer me, the tulip ria, the toy boat with Lego man leu. The prickly E having become backward once more, it turns into xo (with an accent). The two sand buckets are now standing on their sides as yw, while the flying saucer is phea (with a Greek letter at the beginning and an accent on the first vowel). The upside-down Y is kai, the half-eaten ice cream cone is dia, the axe po (with an accent), the fancy Y zu, the nutcracker zeu. The slash no longer indicates a number but is now -s.

 

The others I can’t make out due to the large pixels. But you can have at it yourselves at http://www.lexiline.com/lexiline/lexi3.htm . There is also a better depiction of the geometrical proof that isn’t obscured by pixels. At this site there is a link for obtaining a Greek syllabic transcription and an “English transliteration” as well (probably of this Greek alphabet into ours), plus another link for information on the proposed astronomical use of this theorem. Now, many archeologists think that Stonehenge was used for astronomical purposes back in the Bronze Age, so it’s possible that astronomical knowledge existed in the Mediterranean that early. However, knowledge of astronomy is one thing.  Knowledge of advanced geometry is another, to my mind. So I am less than totally convinced of this.

 

Many people basically believe the old Greek story of a Golden Age, when the ancients knew everything back in the old days. Then bad times fell upon the earth and everybody forgot everything. Well, I’ve read too many versions of that story from different angles – the Greek one, the Hittite one, and so on. It doesn’t really match up particularly well with the archeology that I’ve also read about. Some things were known in the Bronze Age that were forgotten during the following Dark Age, such as writing in Greece. But I’m not prepared to believe that the ancients really knew everything and then forgot it all, on the basis of what one or another classical writer wrote, once upon a time. Herodotus, for example, told a lot of interesting stories and some are probably even true. But he also claimed he saw the pelts of some gold-digging ants. Maybe he really saw something. But I don’t think he really saw the hides of any ants.

 

I did manage to translate the Italian attempt at decipherment by Rosario Vieni, mentioned in an earlier post. He considers the Phaistos disk a calculator or calendar or sorts, which does not contain a linguistic script by his estimation. Those aren’t word separations either, but divisions of time having to do with tasks that people would do during the different seasons. He thinks the fact that there are about 30 divisions on one side and 31 on the other side of the disk is significant, indicating the number of days in the months. This, I think, is a bit premature. Back in the olden days, months were based on the apparent behavior of the moon. So they didn’t have 30 days or 31 days. They had 28 days, occasionally 29. It was Julius Caesar who made them longer and he was a Roman, not a Minoan. Still, Vieni had a lot of other interesting points to make.

 

I also read parts of the analysis of the Dutch decipherers’ work, W. Achtenberg, J. Best, and F. Woudhuizen, who compare the disk’s symbols to those in Luwian hieroglyphics. This was an excellent idea since the Cretans and the Carians of western Anatolia supposedly had some link of kinship, according to classical sources. Also, they would have been a lot closer to one another than Crete and Byblos, or even Crete and Cyprus. The dating is a bit of a problem, but these authors have quite a lot to say on that matter, finally concluding that the disk should be placed about 1370 BCE for epigraphic reasons. Their book includes a very close comparison, symbol by symbol, of the items on the Phaistos disk with similar symbols found at Kultepe and elsewhere in western Anatolia. None of the matches is exact, but they are at least as close as any of those between the disk and Linear A or B. Their conclusion is that it’s a letter to or from Nestor to Idomeneus, which doesn’t seem necessarily warranted by their own transcription, to me. But again, what do I know? I’m no expert in Luwian. Still, this is a very good attempt. 

 

The jogger is SARU in their system (meaning “king”), compared to some little feet in Luwian, the Mohawk being a with an accent, like a head without any hair in Asia Minor. The slave face is har, like a Luwian head that does have hair. The liar is hi, like a pair of crossed hands in Turkey. The fat kid is TIWA, and only remotely similar to a foot. The skirted lady is similar to another lady with a very different skirt, pronounced mi. The beanie lacks a parallel but becomes as₁ based on internal reconstruction, which gets very technical. The catcher’s mitt is KATA, compared to an obvious human hand. The nutcracker, which also lacks a parallel, is har₁. The toothbrush (again without parallel) is sa₂. The strangled snake is TIWATA and, surprisingly, matched by the Luwian double-winged disk!

 

The cookie is clearly matched by a circle with seven dots, becoming tu, while the unmatched emery board is ma₁. The sand buckets are turned over to match double triangles that are joined and represent terra (“land” and not “mountain” as I had once thought). The axe is turned to the left, becoming sceptrum (which means “scepter, kingdom, authority” in English), matched by an apparent pick-axe head, a determinative. The half-eaten ice cream cone is la, with an oblique accent, lying on its side and pointing to the left. It is nicely matched by pointy daggers that, however, point to the right. The flying saucer is TASHUWAR, lying down like a pot lid, paired with squared off versions in hieroglyphic. The boomerang is sa, not especially like a very curvy pair of hieroglyphic signs. The little “y” is sa₁ but without a match. An apparently colored-in and thus nearly unrecognizable jug is ya₁, also lacking a mate. The prickly “E” has its prongs downward here and is WASU, barely similar to a prickly object that has three prongs heading right and three heading left. The upside-down “Y” is i, without any match. Somebody in there is TARHU(NT), the Storm God of the western Anatolians and Hittites, but I couldn’t see that page since I don’t own that book (not yet anyway).

 

It's a masterful effort, in any case.  Following the pattern of Linear B, these authors transcribe some of the names on the disk as i-du-me-na (making this into the Homeric Idomeneus in the translation), pa-ya-ta (which becomes the city of Phaistos), and ri-ti-na (which they make the real Cretan city of Rhition).  They even give that famous Arkalokhori axe a try.  In their opinion, this is what it says:  "In Scheria, these double-axes, Akarkis, son of Chanu, has made (them)."  (you can read all the details in Best, Jan and Fred Wuidhouzen, Lost Languages from the Mediterranean, 2004 (?), page 99).  This is the best of the various attempts that I've actually looked at, although I'm not totally convinced of its validity.  Besides, there are plenty more out there that I haven't seen. 

 

But I think you should all be thoroughly sick of Mr. Cookie Mohawk for awhile!