An Odd Anger Management Course

Although anger has often been classified as a biologically grounded, universal emotion, it is clear that anger is interpreted, managed, and regulated differently in different social contexts.
What is known is that in Arab circle and culture, demeaning expressions targeted toward individuals of high status constitute a challenge to their manhood. Hence, the mean and hostile aggression directed toward Antoun Sehnaoui, CEO of one of the leading banks in town, wasn't going to pass without retaliation. Indeed, the wild outburst of violence through fisted and belittling gestures and wordings was clearly a confrontational call that drove fury to take stage on the Maison Blanche opened-ring.  As a matter of fact, a clear affront was offered to Sehanoui and his bodyguards as soon as the young reputed and successful entrepreneur walked into the White House on that Saturday night (Feb. 25, 2010).
What seems to have actually happened is that Mazen & Co. did all they can to fuel Antoun and his bodyguards to encourage them to be aggressive. Such a behavior is known as "instrumental aggression" involving an intention to hurt another as a means to some goal.
And it's nothing but the availability of guns that made the bullying face off and war of words take a different route; however, the fight was unavoidable, point blank. Did any of the provocative and angry men expect Antoun Sehnaoui to flee the night club with his men like a bunch of sissies, rather than stand their ground in fights, summoning up  courage toward the aggressiveness that emerged upon their arrival to Maison Blanche? Or were Antoun's opponents giving him an angry management course?
Have the men not been armed,  would have violence been lowered? Not certain! It could have been worse! How many times have we heard about late night fights where people stabbed have ended on a hospital bed with serious wounds? How many times, have we heard about alcohol bottles used as lethal weapons with fight ending even more lethally than what happened at Maison Blanche?
What we should condemn here is not how Antoun Sehnaoui's bodyguards dealt with their aggressive impulses; but how the opposite clan provided stimulus to unhealthy emotions defying men who are paid to protect someone from any potential threat and have an inborn tendency to respond to certain provocative stimuli by striking out against the perpetrator. Think about it?

A metaphoric visual to help picturing the situation as in a target and darts (the game) thrown unexpectedly at someone who just planned that night to party and enjoy his time. 
Result: one blast of a night!!

Posted by The Free Spirit @ News 961

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"Half the truth is often a great lie." -- Benjamin Franklin

INTERCEPTION

Not sure what game this is,
However, I am certain, few do.
And those who do, have nothing to say.

[Few of the things I have done, in this journey we call life, I am not particularly proud off.
That is the only truth that matters, to you, her, him, & I.
Reality is how you feel, when reflecting upon what had just happened, which, in a heartbeat, changes to what, you recall.
That is something I learned, after I stopped being selfish.
Back then, it was quite easy, I just exploited what ‘power’ I exercised, and the world, offered it all.]

The easiest thing in the world, is running into trouble, which is quite similar to jogging into a minefield at the grace of God, and hoping to have the time for breakfast before going to work!

All wired-up, fired-up, & ready to lift off.

Now imagine walking into a situation, described as, EXPLOSIVE.

 

INTERCEPTION (la suite)

the Context justified the absurdity

Many years ago, I was awaken to a penetratingly loud mechanical ringing, which regardless of my efforts, to dream away, the more alert I became to my surrounding. Taking the call, a voice, showing signs of stress, informed me that a relative had just passed away, and hung up. Naturally, the funeral service would require me to shuttle myself to Baalback early next morning. With some coffee in the car’s cup holder and cigarettes on the passenger seat, I was half way there, when it started to drizzle. By the time I had parked, in close proximity to the deceased’s house, it was pouring. 
At the grave site, most mourners were cold, with the other half standing under a naked sky receiving its blessings. The man had barely taken to his earthly resting place, when the curator was locking the rusted metal gates, waving the last mourner driving away, goodbye. 
Taking my time on the way back to my car, I inhaled what had transpired, held it, and then breathed the cold air, which was starting to feel heavy on my chest, out. 

Making my way through the narrow, run-down market street, I got to the last intersection that opens onto a three-lane highway out of the village. Looking to my right, as that was the only lane crossing my path, a well-kept seven series BMW was slowly moving closer, before slowing down, as it approached. By the time I had gotten half-way across, the BMW had nudged the right-side of my passenger door, denting it. 

The world, had once again grown silent, this time for only a second, and was followed by the bustle of the market vendors advertising their products. Turning my head in both directions, I came to realise that the accident had not attracted anyone’s attention. 

Getting out of my car, I walked over to the driver who had crashed into me. Laying comfortably in his chair, which he had taken special care of refurbishing with some sort of white wool, I asked if he were hurt. 

Like a man, coming to from a slumber, he took off his metal framed sunglasses, look at me and said, “What’s the matter with you man,” in a fashion, that was surprisingly tranquil. Pointing out the obvious, I replied, “You were slowing down so I thought you were going to stop to let me pass.” Bewildered, he raised his right hand, revealing a joint from which he took a drag, exhaled without a care in the world and said, ”Can’t you see I’m tripping?!”
That was all it took!
At that point in time, there was only one way to deal with the matter, though an instant later, that too, was not an option anymore.

Objectively, fault was to be shared, however in that particular circumstance, the Context, justified the absurdity, whichever way you looked at it. Here, right & wrong, held no sway. After that had dawned on me, I found myself smiling, all the way back home.

By Maverick from the Demos Unit

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