"3CC 的兩個浪漫朋友" 把德州大哥誘出了山寨. 以下是他的來信. 他不會中打, so here it is. I did the highlighting though, which (a perceptive reader would have no difficulty of appreciating) added colorful bias to my advantage and appropriately enhanced the reading pleasure. (And I merely did the highlighting without changing a word, even thought he attempted at painting a bleak picture of the respectful life I'm leading in the breathtaking landscape of North Bridge).

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I felt that by further delaying my respond to the blogs posted by 3cc and CW would be considered uncivilized. So here's the long article that was long overdue. With friends like these two, who needs enemy? (Just for readers' reference, of the later I was never really on the short-end of the supply-demand equation, too.) I figure I better say something before my good name is further tarnished.

My friends amaze me in several aspects. But the first and the most of all, where the hell did they learn how to type Chinese like that? I know they are (were?) extremely bright, but not THAT bright, right? Actually I just realized my intention of roasting them along this line has just back-fired on me. I have, actually I am staring at, a computer in front of me with Chinese phonic symbols on the all the keys. It was an Acer Aspire, a gift to me a few years back. It happened one day that I must have hit a very bizarre combination of keys, and all these symbols popped out onto my screen like when Pandora opened her box (CW, get your mind out of the gutter, it literally means THE box of Pandora!), and my screen spells only one word – disasters. She (Pandora) was fortunate enough to cap the box and trap the hope inside for humanity (was that really such a good thing for us? now that you have made me wonder,) whereas I was denied of that option. I did the only honorable thing, with unimaginable courage and stoic attitude that only Cato (the grandson) could have understood; I rebuilt the entire hard-drive. Only to find out later that I wiped out the entire family trip pictures…But hey! It is their fault; they should not have elected to trust my computer skill to begin with.

That should give you a good survey on my general intelligence, or the lack of which. That should also explain the‘...dressed in short and T-shirt, making high precision measurement under the table…’incidence. The fact is; my dear old chap 3CC, that IS the proper attire serving the purpose of telling my boss not to set up his expectation too high. It got me this far, and hopefully for many more years to come.

At this particular point of time, two things I hope I have persuaded you, before we march along even further. First, I can't type Chinese so the rest of this essay will be conducted in this barbaric language. As a matter of fact, I can't type in any language. Three fingers got me through my past 19 years in US, two index fingers and my trusting right middle finger. The first two punched out all those papers that 3CC told you about (they are nothing but POS, just in case you are curious), whereas the later one got me through countless times of road rages, driving in places like Boston, NYC, and Bay Area. Secondly, to make the matter worse, it is unlikely that my English writing will experience a dramatic improvement within the next 30 minutes or so you will simply have to bear with me. To those who that have got this far, If I have not turned you away, you are sicker than you thought. In that case, you are probably my type of guys/gals, and I believe we should get along just fine.

On thing good about writing in a language that is not your native tongue is, you can congratulate yourself of really pissing someone off (all languages has its colorful side,) and your unfamiliarity with exactly what that particular 'color' carries works well when begging for mercy from you reader. Ask Samuel Johnson what is a pastern and you will see what I mean. The truth is, I still read Chinese well. The fact that I am responding to 3CC's article can attest to it, but having a hard time to think in terms of it. I am the living proof of the success of May-4th movement, except being a bit late.

So, back to these friends of mine (I thought there's an old song of that exactly same title.) I have individually got drunk with each of them once or twice within the last 19 years, but not collectively. Of three of us, CW used to be in best shape. But he has been visiting hospital for a few times recently, and that got me a bit worried. CW has a 20/20 sight and perfect hearing. I know how he got it, it's from the gene. How he's been able to keep it sharp puzzles the hell out of me. I mean, given his particular fondness of AVs, which demands highly on the eye-to-ear coordination. I am not making this one up; interested party can log onto his blog and read his Shanghai traveling journal for himself.

3CC is a different matter; he has developed a pretty severe case of gout and has been put on a pretty strict diet. But, a little secret to those adores the life of North Bridge, its pictorial landscape in particular. If you like Chinese food, you can forget about it. It offers none. During that infamous business trip four years ago, our friend 3CC arrived at Dallas and found out there was actually a Chinatown next to the hotel he lived. Not surprisingly, he fully engaged himself, (i.e., stuffed himself like a pig.) I confess I did poke him with a finger or two when he was at the edge of the cliff by uncorking a bottle of '97 Banfi Castello Brunello Di Montalcino, and my wife did her share of making him a Bistecca alla Fiorentina, when we held a formal dinner party to honor his arrival. In a matter of speaking, I helped him find out that gout is very unforgiving. But you know what they always said, right? What goes around comes around. After he told me how he paid the price for the meal he chose, I got so scared that I gave up eating my favorite Chinese food – the Hot Pot. So now that you know why I betrayed my heritage–giving up nationality is nothing, giving up food is a serious crime, and he who can commit himself thus is capable of great evil deeds. I found out blaming most, not all, of my failures on 3CC has been working extremely well for me in the past. After all, what are friends for?

I still read poetry, just not Homeric any more. My new policy is, if you can't read the original; then don't read it at all - an extremely beautiful (and handy, too) excuse for being lazy. That much credit you at least have to hand to me. My most recent project is Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde. It is much more difficult than I originally anticipated. The problem with reading the poem is, I think CW's wife can add her testimony to my statement, (or 3CC's wife, one of you two majored in English at college, I think) that when you read a poem, you need to read it out loud, otherwise you are merely staring, not reading. In order to conquer Chaucer, I first need to learn how to pronounce Middle English – not an easy task especially when you need to learn it on your own. If you find my accent changes again next time, you know the cause, just so we understand each other. A little side note to CW, reading Beowulf is relative easy. You numb your tongue with a lot of habanero peppers to the point it won't curl at all for any of the Rs, you then force your sound from your nose like a German would, then you're there. I feel obliged to warn you that the side effect was quite unpleasant, though.

I have roasted my friends for a while. To be honest, they are the two kindest souls that I have ever bumped into in my lousy life (wife and kid except.) It would be extremely unfair to them if I don't scorch myself a bit. Here is something I got from a fellow physicist (loser), which I believe was originally from despair.com:

"Quitters never win, winners never quit, but those who never win AND never quit are idiots."

Well, friends, I quitted and won many times. Figure I am just lazy and lucky?