Tom-Boy can't Fight

So, I admit it. I played with cars when I was a child.
I built forts in the bushes.
I laid siege to the jungle-gym.
I threw punches in order to wield the pine tree branch.
I was a regular Tom-Boy.
But…
I still find more meaning in my contraband bag of microwave popcorn than I do in a senseless fist-fight.
Ok, so I despise the direction and actions of Dubya and his outrageous (..er…courageous?) cohorts, picking a kid in class and calling him a “dumb-cum-stupid-head” and throwing dog poop at him. But, at least I understand Why. There is a clear, selfish and very-wrong reason that pokes through the biased media on the head of a chopstick.
But, what I DON'T understand is:

What reason my friends had last night when they decided to throw a Fight-Club-style punch at themselves that led to a minor explosion of an ex-pat war in town..?
I just
Dunno.
This Tom-Boy can't think of anything.
Maybe one of our friends in town had clandestinely filled his water tank with valuable oil. Or, maybe they had obtained a secret Biological Weapon to combat Superior English Teaching? Or, maybe they had been posting lies about depleted Uranium on their Conversation School List bots.
Or, maybe they didn't play with cars as a kid.
Or, throw dog poop.
Or toss bottle rockets.
Or eat dog biscuits.
(Oh man... I swear I only tried it once and didn't swallow!)
I dunno.

But, I gotta go because I think someone's about to snatch up my pine tree branch!