"This should be a better world," a friend of mine said. "A more honest one, where reflexive actions aren't shameful or degrading. I wish this was the kind of world where say, 'Wow, I'd like to punch you for being so stupid,' and people would understand that it's not a way of saying that you have no right to your own opinions, but rather a way of saying that you have a very detailed argument, but your argument makes me want to kill kittens."

We were standing in the hallway of [insert generic convference name], about nine of us, and we all nodded. Then another friend spoke up.

"You can punch me," he said to all of us in the hallway. "I have lots of offensive opinions that I justify by appropriating only the tenets of rational movements that will support my stance."

Now, you have to understand the way he said that, because it's the key to the whole project. The spirit of everything was formed within those nine words - and if he'd said them sullenly, as though he was only allowing this because of internalized self-hatred, the Open-Source Stupid Project would have died aborning. But he didn't. His words were loud and clearly audible to anyone who walked by, an offer made to friends and acquaintances alike.

Yet it wasn't an invitation to a fight, either. There wasn't that undertow of desperation of come on, punch me, I need you to initiate a conflict so that I can act out my aggression. There was no promise of anything but simple catharsis.

We all lined up, eager to vent our rage, fists clenched. And lo, we punched his face - the impact made us feel a little better about all of the idiocy around us. His face was stupid, worthy of being punched.

And life seemed so much simpler.

In this moment, all of the societal restrictions had fallen away, and we discovered an eBay-like need: We liked to express disdain for his stupidity, and he was stupid enough to let us. It wasn't a one-way flow; it was natural selection in action.

It could have been disgusting bullying, but this was for a good cause. We were being open about feelings that didn't need to be kept locked away.

We stood there afterwards, a little shocked. Then someone else spoke up in the same tone of voice:

"You can my face, too."

And my God! We all reached out like zombies trying to break through a door to get to punch those chauvinists. And it wasn't getting any worse! We weren't degenerating into an brawl, but rather exploring the amazement of how beautiful this retribution was and how wonderful it was to have access to it. Nobody was trying to break a bone or cause serious injurty; we'd been given access to a very special satisfaction, and why would you be so crude as to try to push the boundaries of that?

And every bigot in that hallway was then asked the question: "May I punch your face?" They considered, and said yes. And we all did.

And my Lord, I'd had experience in a few fights in my time, but having so many compared right next to each other was beautiful. One of the reasons I love punching is because every idiot is so different, and the differences in delusions, and rationalization, and proselytizing, and attitudes - attitudes were a big deal in how a punch felt - were shut down. It wasn't like the punches blurred together; they were all each beautiful in their own way. With each punch, we appreciated the last ones even more.

We went back to some of the first open-sourcers, eager for comparison. "Can I punch you again?" "Sure!" And the beatings continued.

I felt the terrors of high school washing away from me. It could be this easy. Just ask!

[continued]


*This is in no way meant to be an endorsement of violence or a threat. It is not a meaningful metaphor, per se, merely a parody.

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And then the real magic happened. Because a real pig strode down the hallway, yelling out his obnoxious opinions, and we stopped him.

"Excuse me," the first, very brave warrior against idiocy asked. "You're very stupid. I'd like to punch your face. Would you mind if I did?"

We held our breath. We didn't want to offend. This could go wrong, collapsing and turning us into cruel cruel bullies who'd make him feel uncomfortable and shamed of who he was....

He thought for a heartbeat, sizing us up. But there must have been something honest and trustworthy in our eyes that promised that we wouldn't get out of hand... Because after a moment, hhe smiled and said, "Sure!"

The first girl punched lightly but firmly. And reported that it glorious. Then we all asked in turn, and he nodded happily and pointed toward his jaw, and lo, even with strangers and not acquaintances, the magic of the Stupid Project continued. It wasn't that he was a disgusting worm to be terrorized, but rather that a living person that we did not know had voluntarily lowered the barriers that separate us and allowed us in... And we were so grateful that we handed out complimentary ice packs.

It was exciting, of course. I won't deny it was primative. But it was a miraculous violence that didn't feel wrong, but uplifting.

Emboldened, we started asking other people. And lo, in the rarified atmosphere of the con, few were offended and many agreed. And they also felt that strange charge. We went around the con, asking those who we thought might be amenable - you didn't just ask anyone, but rather the ones who were the most obnoxious - and generally, people responded. They understood how this worked instinctively, and it worked.

By the end of the evening, morons were coming up to us. "My opinions," they asked shyly, having heard about the project. "Are they... are they stupid enough for your to punch your face?" And lo, we evaluated their perspectives and responded accordingly.

We talked about this. It was an Open-Source Project, making catharsis available to select folks. (Like any good project, you need access control, because there are loutish men and women who just Don't Get It.) And we wanted a signal to let people know that they were okay with being asked politely, so we turned it into a project:

The Open-Source Stupid Project.

At [insert generic conference name], we had buttons to give away. There were two small buttons, one for each camp: A green button that said, "YES, you may" and a red button that said "NO, you may not." And anyone who had those buttons on, whether you knew them or not, was someone you could approach and ask:

"Excuse me, but may I punch your stupid face?"

And if you weren't a total bully - the idiots retained their right to say no, of course - they point to their faces, and you would be allowed to take a swing. That exchange of happiness where one person is told they are stupid and the other is someone who's allowed to punish that stupidity.

For a moment, everything that was awkward about high school would fade away and you could just say what was on your mind. It was as though parts of me were being healed whenever I did it, and I punched at least fifteen stupid people at [insert generic conference name]. It never got old, surprisingly.

Some bastards didn't want to. That was fine. We never demanded anything of anyone. And if you didn't want to put yours up for the Project but you wanted to punch people more offensive than you, well, that was fine, too. It was simply for folks who felt like being open.

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It was a raging success at [insert generic conference name].... And there haven't been any brawls that I know of thanks to the Open-Source Stupid Project. It is, as I said, a very special thing. (Though I wouldn't rule it out if two single people exchanged a moment.) And we'll probably do it at other cons, because it's strangely wholesome and satisfying at the same time.

I've left off the names, because frankly, people should reveal for themselves whether they're Open-Sourcers or not. Not everyone wants to go public with it, and what happens at the con stays at the con. But trust me. If you are, and I meet you, I will ask. And you'll understand the beauty and simplicity of the Open-Source Stupid Project for yourself.

Feel the magic, my friends. Punch the stupid faces.

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I'm curious to know if you'd read this before writing yours. Because if you didn't, it's really an amazing plate-of-shrimp moment.

I, of course, didn't spend anywhere near as much time on mine as you clearly spent on yours -and you certainly captured a good deal more of the original text than I did.

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It is brilliant, really.

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The post above, the post in my LJ, or the fact that we both had the same idea and posted it?

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BWAH HAH HAH.

That's pretty awesome, actually. Kind of like Fight Club.

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