When my stress levels reach the breaking point, I’ve found that a ferocious face-to-face confrontation with authority is an excellent release. I run the copwatch program in my city, and it’s never very hard to find a misbehaving cop, so I’ll often head out to hunt down some steroid-gobbling meathead who’s stupid enough to give me a fight. Most cops know me from long experience, and know that I’m well capable of ripping open a can of whoop-ass consisting of press releases, official complaints, lawsuits, constitutional challenges, and other assorted tools of the trade. Only the really dumb cops rise to the bait, which suits me fine. I get to blow off some steam and do some good deeds at the same time by slapping down a heavyhanded cop.
(To allay complaints, I’ll mention that I’ve been told by others cops – with whom I get along because they’re not fascist lunkheads – that some of the senior cops use me as training. They send young, inexperienced cops to harass me, knowing that I’ll give them good experience in dealing with activists. In other words, they regard me as annoying but harmless.)
I’m not saying your husband need to go out stare down a cop, but he would probably enjoy putting himself in a situation where he can let his rage and frustration power some old-fashioned self-righteous indignation so that he doesn’t feel guilty about letting loose. Rude waiters, obnoxious salesmen, and door-knocking christers are all viable targets for justified wrath.