So there I was at Penguicon for three days. In that space of time I never touched a boob. (Not even my own as far as I can remember.) Nor did I see the infamous buttons. (Not that I knew to look for them.)

Yet that seems to be the only thing the entire blogosphere wants to talk about in relation to Penguicon ever since. I guess boobies always win out over Singing Tesla Coils; no matter which side of the argument you fall on.

Me? I'm all for personal freedom and for people being able to make choices. No means no. Yes means yes. The absence of either is a default no. It doesn't matter whether you are talking about touching a part of someone's body or eating a bite of their chocolate bar. Each person gets to define their own limits.

That includes the toucher as well as the touchee: Should I have known about this 'Open Source Boob Project' I wouldn't have participated. I know what boobs feel like and, while I do enjoy them greatly, it isn't something I want to reduce to groping strangers in a hallway. I'm not wired like that.

So I missed it. And, frankly, I'm glad I missed it. But then I didn't rub Vernor Vinge's bald head either. (Something that apparently was quite the rage there and something which I want to do far less than I want to rub titties.) I managed to miss talking to John Scalzi at every opportunity. I blew off a crapload of programming. I never met 'the XKCD guy'. I didn't slam a single jello shot or quaff a single pirate rum ration.

In other words I missed a lot of other things, many of which interested me more than 'Open Source Boobs'. Life is like that...