That wasn't "fighting," that was just attacking. Context is key. This was not a locker room, parking lot or bar where two guys are having words. It was a handshake line! The whole point of the handshake line is that this is where we put our difference aside and shake hands.
If I sucker punched you, or for any form of punch, it would probably break my hand, provided my arthritis would let me form a fist.
And I'm starting to think you're Gen. Cornwallis. Lets just put on our red coats and march right across the battlefield. Or better yet lets listen to George Pickett and just let them see us marching across this mile wide field. How courageous of us.
Knock it off, you sound like a pussy. Men don't hit men when they're TOTALLY not expecting it, then follow up with a knockout blow before the guy has time to collect himself to fight back. There's no honor in that.
Yeah, some people grew up differently than I did and have some bullschit Queenesbury Rules notion of fighting. My time in Dearborn was like that. In Detroit, not so much, at all. Situationally, sure. Survival wise? Fuk that.
That's not a "fight," though. That's an assassination. Which in that case would be warranted.
You have to start it before you can end it, though. It comes down to whether you want to fight somebody, and be able to say with pride afterward (to yourself, if no one else) that you beat the guy's ass in a fight, or whether you just want to hit and run when the guy least expects it, which is nothing to brag about later, nor any reason to be impressed when you look in the mirror.
