In 1671, a man whose name would one day be on millions of bottles of spiced rum decided to make history (and a whole lot of chaos) in Panama. Captain Henry Morgan was a Welsh privateer, or in other terms a “legal pirate.” He led a ragtag army of buccaneers on one of the boldest raids of the 17th century. His target? The wealthy Spanish stronghold of Panama City. The plan was simple: march through the jungle, face a few hundred angry Spaniards, and then grab all the gold, silver, and whatever else that wasn’t nailed down. Spoiler: it worked. Morgan didn’t just capture Panama City; he turned it into a smoldering heap.

But don’t go thinking Morgan was just some rum-soaked pirate winging it out there in the ocean. This was a strategic move in the never-ending feud between Spain and England over who got to boss around the New World. Morgan’s raid was technically approved by the English Crown, even though England and Spain had signed a peace treaty. Apparently, Morgan missed that memo—or maybe he just “accidentally” skipped the part where peace meant “do not destroy a whole city.” Either way, when his men rolled into Panama, they didn’t just knock on the door; they kicked it in, raided the fridge, and set the place on fire on their way out.

The aftermath was as messy as the raid itself. Panama City was left in ruins, but Morgan sailed home to Jamaica a hero. Oh, and the Spanish were furious, but Morgan still somehow ended up getting knighted by King Charles II. That’s right, this guy burned down a city and walked away with both gold and a fancy title. The story of Captain Morgan’s raid on Panama is part adventure, part war crime, and entirely the kind of history you can’t make up. And if you're wondering why his name is now on a bottle of rum, it’s because nothing says “let’s set sh*t on fire” quite like a stiff drink. Cheers to that.

On January 28, 1986, the world stopped to watch history in the making. The Space Shuttle Challenger was set to carry seven astronauts into the cosmos—

Francis R. Scobee (Commander)
Michael J. Smith (Pilot)
Ronald McNair (Mission Specialist)
Ellison Onizuka (Mission Specialist)
Judith Resnik (Mission Specialist)
Gregory Jarvis (Payload Specialist)

Among the astronauts was Christa McAuliffe, a schoolteacher who was part of NASA’s Teacher in Space Program. Her mission was to broadcast lessons down from space to classrooms across the country. It was a historic moment. Families gathered around their bulky TV sets ready for a display of humanity's potential. But just 73 seconds after liftoff, the Challenger disintegrated, and excitement turned to horror. The cause? A faulty O-ring seal that failed due to the cold weather. NASA didn’t anticipate the consequences of ignoring warnings about the weather. Lesson learned: never underestimate the power of a cold morning.

As if the tragedy wasn’t enough, conspiracy theories have clung to the Challenger disaster like a bad plot twist. Some people claim that the crew never died at all, claiming they created secret identities and are part of a witness protection program. They point to lookalike individuals spotted in various careers—one alleged "survivor" is now a university professor, while another is supposedly living life as a corporate executive. After all, if Elvis and Tupac can still be alive, why not the Challenger crew? Bad comparison. While these theories are said to be debunked, they still make for entertaining discussions—especially if you enjoy a side of wild speculation with your historical facts.

Conspiracies aside, the Challenger explosion is a reminder of the risks of pushing boundaries. It exposed cracks in NASA’s organizational culture, showing that even the smartest people in the room can make decisions that prioritize deadlines over safety. The disaster reshaped how space exploration was approached, with increased emphasis on safety protocols and team communication. But beyond the science, it’s also a story of human ambition—the audacity to reach for the stars, even when it doesn’t always work out. While the Challenger crew may not be alive in secret bunkers or suburban neighborhoods—or maybe they are if that’s your cup of tea— their legacy lives on in each rocket launch today.

Inflatable War Tanks 🎈
During World War II, inflatable tanks became one of the weirdest weapons in the Allied arsenal. These rubber dummies were part of the “Ghost Army,” a top-secret unit tasked with fooling German forces. Imagine hundreds of inflatable tanks, fake artillery, and rubber trucks—yes, essentially giant military toys—set up to create the illusion of a massive force. The tanks were equipped with fake radio chatter and sound effects in an attempt confuse the enemy and divert troops away from actual battle zones.

The Pope Bans Cat’s 🐈‍⬛
Back in the 13th century, Pope Gregory IX wasn’t exactly a fan of cats—especially black cats. In 1233, he issued a papal decree linking dark colored cats to Satanic rituals. This wasn’t just a casual “I don’t like cats” situation; it was a full-blown accusation that cats were BFFs with witches and demonic forces. What followed was a widespread removal of cats across Europe, which, ironically, may have backfired. With fewer cats to keep rodent populations in check, rats thrived—and with them, diseases like the bubonic plague. Moral of the story: maybe don’t mess with the cats.

Gladiator’s Blood 🩸
In ancient Rome, gladiators spilled a lot of blood in the arena—and not all of it went to waste. Some Romans believed that gladiator blood had magical or medicinal properties. After a match, spectators would collect the blood to drink it, believing it would cure epilepsy or transfer the strength and bravery of the fallen fighter. It was like ancient Rome’s version of a “power smoothie,” minus the kale and protein powder. This bizarre practice shows just how far people would go for a supposed health boost—though today, we’d probably recommend vitamins over violence.

Einsteins Lost Brain 🧠
When Albert Einstein passed away in 1955, his brain didn’t exactly stay put. Against his wishes, the pathologist who performed the autopsy, Dr. Thomas Harvey, decided to borrow it for science. He removed Einstein’s brain, chopped it into pieces, and kept it in a jar—no big deal, right? Well, Harvey hoped to unlock the secrets of Einstein’s genius, though it mostly just turned into a decades-long road trip for the brain. Pieces of it were sent to labs, and Harvey even kept parts in a wooden box under his beer cooler. While studies on the brain yielded a few theories, the whole thing was less about breakthroughs and more about a bizarre odyssey. Moral of the story? Even geniuses can’t escape the weirdness of human curiosity.

If you enjoy this edition of Today In History be sure to send it to a friend and force them to sign up because that’s what good friends do. We hope you enjoy the new Ai photos! Until next time, stay curious, question everything, and keep uncovering the mysteries of the past. - Zach⛺️