I remember a time in the halcyon days of my youth that when a boy wanted to slap a bag of rice he did so. No begging for permission. No slow buildup. No thought of repercussions or social backlash. He would just slap a bag or two. Repeatedly until his palms were red and sore. Sweat drenched, exhausted by exertion, but ecstatic. And if you listened closely, you could faintly hear the content sighing of the rice.