Insert Foot (now an official member of the vikings, vs. DNA tests.

Since I did one of those DNA test thingies, I can’t stop watching shows about vikings. Because I’m gullible.

The stupid test – which is probably “processed” by some pimply kid in his mom’s basement making shit up – says I’m 18 percent “Scandinavian.” That was a huge surprise, mostly because I have no idea what it means.

So I decided it means “Viking.” Those guys had long rock hair, didn’t shave, and all looked like angry retired powerlifters. They looked intimidating. And I always wanted to be intimidating.

The 82 percent is pretty much what I’d been led to believe by other white people older than me: that I’m a combination of Irish, Scottish and English. Whatever; it’s pretty obvious where my genes originate. I go to my kid’s softball game for a couple hours and come home glowing like I was dipped in a vat of nuclear waste.

I’m white, like North Atlantic polar bear white.

Oh, Mr. DNA in Mom’s Basement also said I’m 1 percent Middle Eastern. Your guess is as good as mine on that one. I think they spin a wheel and come up with that miscellaneous 1 percent to make you think they’re doing their job. I’m about as Middle Eastern as a Canada goose.

So because I’m easily manipulated, I’ve spent every millisecond of free time the past month watching “Vikings,” on Prime, because I wanted to know about my heritage some stranger in his mom’s basement cooked up for $119.

Right. I decided my best source of dependable scholarly information was Amazon Prime. I might be a viking, but I’m a very modern viking. Maybe I’ll start a magazine called Modern Viking.

Anyway, here’s what I’ve learned: Vikings were about as complicated as the modern houseplant.

They had three choices every day as far as Viking activities: drinking pitchers of mead, fornicating or invading England. Sometimes they did all three at once.

Every winter, Vikings would get together in their big and loud torchlit hall to drink mead, fornicate and decide who to invade once the ice melted. Seriously, the king would say he just got a text from Odin, telling him they had to go invade England (again).

Some years, King Yngwie or Queen ABBA or whomever, would feel creative and throw a wrench in everyone’s plans by deciding to invade France, who I’ve learned were much sneakier and better-dressed than the English.

From what I’ve gathered from Prime, the Vikings didn’t really care where they invaded, as long as they got to kill people when they got there. Sometimes the other team killed them, which was OK because then beautiful women on flying horses took them to Van Halen to drink mead with Thor.

Van Halen, Valhalla … Val Kilmer. Whatever.

Sometimes the English won, which is also OK because I’m genetically English, too. Though the English weren’t as cool because they didn’t look like they played guitar for Ozzy. They also didn’t have face tattoos and generally had smaller muscles, because they didn’t spend their whole lives slicing everything that moved in half with giant broadswords.

As you can imagine, with such limited recreational choices, Vikings occasionally got tired of drinking mead, fornicating and invading England. So they’d build new ships and discover Iceland, where there were no people to kill yet, forcing them to kill each other.

Seriously … they got six seasons and at least one sequel series out of this routine. Then they got to make movies like “The Northman,” which was more mead-swilling, fornicating and invading, only with a better looking Skarsgård brother (all viking productions, by law, must include a Skarsgård). It’s really incredible.

It’s also tough to watch sometimes. Not because of all the killing – though I could do with fewer burnings-at-the-stake. But Vikings couldn’t have breakfast without sacrificing an animal first. Nothing breathing was safe. Wedding? There goes a goat. Funeral? There go a couple horses. Housewarming? Suddenly someone can’t find their pet pig. Big battle tomorrow? That required a human, though to be fair, they’d ask for a volunteer.

I’m just about done with the last season of “Vikings,” and already did the sequel, “Vikings Valhalla.” I think I’m about done being Scandinavian for a while. It sounds exhausting.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.