A Chariot Race Gone Wrong: How to Win Friends and Influence Massacres in Ancient Rome Ah, ancient Rome — a civilization that knew how to throw a good party and, in many cases, how to end it with a bang. If you think modern politics is messy, let us take a delightful jaunt back to 390 AD in Thessalonica, where a simple chariot race spiraled into one of history's less-than-pleasant footnotes. Who would have thought that a bustling circus, a feisty mob, and an underwhelming general could set the stage for a full-fledged massacre? If you’re looking to win friends and influence people — or at least a bloodlustful mob — strap in tight, because we are about to explore an ancient strategy for turning fanfare into frenzy. First things first: always remember that public opinion is as fickle as the wind. Butheric, our Roman general du jour, clearly underestimated this truth. When he decided to crank up the circus drama by arresting a popular charioteer for — brace yourself — pederasty, he made an error of tragic proportions. It’s as if Butheric woke up one day and thought, “What would be the best way to wind up in the annals of history? Why, by enraging an entire city, of course!” The mob swiftly turned from enthusiasm for chariots to a thirst for vengeance, lynching him in spectacular fashion. Now, here’s where you have to pay attention: don’t be the person who takes a lynching lightly. It’s a surefire way to upset the housing market and lead to civil unrest. Buttheric’s hanging sent a loud and clear message: mess with the people’s entertainment, and you’ll hang from the rafters yourself. So, lesson number one on how to influence massacres: always know your community’s heroes. If your local charioteer enjoys the lion’s share of affection, don’t dare rain on their parade! Now, what’s a Roman emperor to do when one of his generals meets an untimely end thanks to an unruly mob? Enter stage left: Theodosius the Great. His methods of quelling unrest were, shall we say, ‘decisive.’ With the flick of a wrist — and an ability to cast aside moral codes — he authorized his Gothic troops to ‘punish’ Thessalonica. This was no mere stamp of authority; it was a ticket to an unbridled spectacle of violence. Clearly, if you’re going to go for a massacre, be sure to get the most bang for your buck, and nothing says ‘punishment’ like a good ole’ slaughter. Theodosius didn’t just want to quell dissent — he wanted to send a message. Nothing says, “I care about maintaining order” like killing a few hundred civilians in a hippodrome under a not-so-rainy June sky. As they say, every cloud has a silver lining, and many a Roman citizen learned the hard way that sometimes, the line between punishment and playtime is unusually thin. Aside from the sheer spectacle of the massacre, the aftermath revealed a political goldmine. Enter Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, whose keen sense of morality cut through the chaos like a butter knife through bread. Not one to miss an opportunity for self-promotion, he clandestinely informed Theodosius that the whole “punishing the citizens of Thessalonica” bit was less than palatable to God, and, as it turns out, the Eucharist is not included with a side of genocide. Theodosius, possibly fearing a heavenly email from Ambrose, chose to comply with the bishop’s demands for repentance. Ah, the politics of fear and divine intervention! So, what can we glean from this ancient lesson on friendship and influence? If you want to gain—and lose—friends and influence your neighborhood for the worse, keep a few key takeaways in mind. Be willing to disregard public opinion at your peril, never underestimate the bonds formed over shared interests (like chariot racing), and maintain helpful connections with the local religious leaders. After all, nothing mends a bloody reputation quite like a heartfelt confession, even if it follows an unprecedented massacre. In summary, the ancient art of winning friends and influencing massacres is a complex tapestry woven with chaos, violence, and the occasional divine intervention. So, the next time you find yourself at a Roman circus, remember: always bring popcorn, but never forget to keep an eye out for the general — and the mob. Because in this ancient world, every chariot race could be your last, especially if you tread on sacred ground.