Bully

Reflecting a bit more on the idea that in America violence is too often called on as a first response I like to touch on the current pending overthrow of the Egyptian government under Mubarak, a dictator who could only tighten his grip on society because the US was backing him to the tune of making his Israel-friendly regime the greatest recipient of foreign aid. Of course, in this case violence is not direct, but rather almost invisible as the people experience it by extension, by being subjected to harsh laws and treatment of their own government with the blessing of the US who sees no problem in selling Mubarak the teargas canisters as recently held up in a protester's hand, with the "Made in America" label clearly to see for the world.
When Saddam Hussein, another dictator buoyed by the US, started behaving as a bully, the US did little more than acting as a bully itself, trashing Iraq and killing tens of thousands of innocents, or causing their displacement, just to evict one bully from his throne by unleashing a shock and awe campaign the likes of which the world had not yet seen. I'm not saying Saddam was a nice guy, but he wasn't involved in flying airplanes into the World Trade Center. In response to 9/11 the US invaded Afghanistan after carpet-bombing it for weeks with daisy-cutter bombs. I'm not saying the Taliban are nice people, but they were not the ones flying into the twin towers and the Pentagon, and the one who supposedly was behind it was given a free ride to Pakistan, actions which are as questionable as the multiple reasons behind invading these countries rich in oil as they are.
Is there actually anything wrong with letting things be sometimes? Apparently, if you are the US, you cannot. All options are always on the table, including nuclear.
Just days before I left Honolulu I was in my almost empty house with my girlfriend when some bully tried to come in to "kick my ass." He was a big guy in his late thirties, overweight to the point of morbid obesity, who used his weight to shake the wooden house as he flung himself against the wall. I stood in the front room, holding a knife behind my back, calling 911 with my other hand, telling him he'd be a dead man if he dared come in through the screen door he had opened halfway. How did I get into that situation, and how did I get out of it?
One of the items I had posted on Craigslist was my Apple eMac. Someone had called me while I was away and I had rushed home to sell it to him. I had placed it on the floor, powered it up, and the start screen's blue light illuminated the now mostly empty room when the guy pulled up in a Hummer. I went outside to meet him. He seemed nice enough, wanted the Mac for his 5 year-old daughter, and paid me the money right away. I asked him if he didn't want to see the Mac as I had set it up for him. Just put it on the backseat he said, opening the door.
I don't know about this guy, I told my girlfriend after the transaction. I had a strange feeling about him, like when food in the fridge has been there a long time but still looks good, you know it's not going to taste fresh. He was off, with his weight, his Hummer, and his quick transaction. Something didn't smell right.
Close to midnight he called, not once, but 7 times. I missed the first call and was listening to the message he'd left when the next call came in. "You fucking prick, I'm going to rip your fucking head off and kick your fucking ass if you don't call me right back, asshole. You sold me a fucking computer that doesn't even turn on!"
We were already in bed. "Don't call him back," my girlfriend said. He sounds like he's drunk or something. Exactly my idea. Maybe he was high on meth. We went to sleep, but after I had mulled over the vulnerability I exposed us to by using a service like Craigslist. The next morning his Hummer was in front of the house and he called me out, using nothing but profanity.
When the police came he turned all soft, becoming the doting father, making me a Craigslist scammer, something the nice policeman on my front step seemed to give the benefit of the doubt to. How I wanted to resolve it? Me? For a while I remained the righteously wronged party, weighing my options to charge him with terrorist threatening, as suggested by the police who kept us at safe distance, until reason set in and I reached in my pocket and walked to the bully with the 100 bucks in my hand he had paid.
"You can have your money back, but only if you withdraw your threats in front of these policemen and promise not to come back here. If you do I will have you arrested."
We shook hands on it and he left. I didn't want the eMac back because apparently it had stopped working or not and he didn't know how to turn it on, and I didn't want to see him back with his particular style of dealing with people. I didn't feel good about the deal, but sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and I reasoned I'd gain a lot more by making him go away.
Did I want to follow him and burn his house down with everyone inside? Of course, because I was mad and full of revenge, until it dissipated.
The thought I'm having today is that a big country like America can also hold a knife behind its back, but you don't always have to start stabbing and burning houses down with inhabitants whose fight it isn't.
My girlfriend said that even bullies have a code, a code of the street, and that our handshake meant something to him.  Maybe she's right. I was glad she was there to give him a bit of a human face. That's something that seems to be absent in congress every time America is called out by a stupid, simple minded bully.