This ID's One Post Made Kong Qingdong So Furious He Replied Twice
2006/9/24 9:55:02
This ID's one post — "Kong Qingdong, don't embarrass Peking University, let this ID teach you to write poetry!" — made Kong Qingdong so furious he fired off two replies, quoted below:
Kong Qingdong replied on 2006/09/23 00:41:06:
Your poems have decent command of words, but no true feeling — just piling up concepts, nothing more than metrically correct empty bombast. Especially your tone — the classic face of a petty villain. You think you're worthy of discussing history? But I won't insult you by saying you embarrass anyone — you're just a scoundrel who can write poems! When I was writing poems at your level, your whole family hadn't been born yet! You dare discuss poetry with me? Shameless!
2006-09-23 00:51:53
To that fake Zen, true villain:
Your poems have decent command of words, but no true feeling — just piling up concepts, nothing more than metrically correct empty bombast. Your poems say nothing. Your understanding of regulated verse is at a middle-school level — what you said is simply wrong. Do you even know what parallel couplets are? You haven't even understood my poems. Especially your tone — the classic face of a petty villain. You think you're worthy of discussing history? But I won't insult you by saying you embarrass anyone — you're just a scoundrel who can barely write poems! When I was writing poems at your level, your whole family hadn't been born yet! You dare discuss poetry with me? Shameless!
Good grief, Peking University Chinese Department — how could you have sunk this low? Better scrub the words "Peking University" off your name! Look at the hideous Chinese your so-called celebrity has churned out. This ID once coined a famous saying: "If you're a hooligan, who do you fear? Hooligans fear only female hooligans!" When it comes to those playing hooligan, whether they're from the Chinese Department or the "Slit-Throat Department," the result is the same — they're all defeated generals under this ID's command.
The two replies came ten minutes apart. On the surface, the latter is the 2.0 version of the former, but one shouldn't look only at the latter — the differences between them better expose the secrets lurking in his heart. The former is like a frog's reflex after being prodded, no different from those online sock puppets whose sole joy is hurling abuse — basically the "you're trash, I'm the man" template, expressed with uniformly crude brutality. This type of reply mainly originates from involuntary spasms below the lower abdomen.
The latter must have involved some activity above the lower abdomen, yielding this additional content: "To that fake Zen, true villain:" + "Your poems say nothing. Your understanding of regulated verse is at a middle-school level — what you said is simply wrong. Do you even know what parallel couplets are? You haven't even understood my poems." + "But I won't insult you by saying you embarrass anyone — you're just a scoundrel who can barely write poems!" The most notable feature here is the addition of much professional posturing — or rather, the flaunting of professional credentials. This professionalized polish makes the latter's affected pretense even more stomach-churning for earthlings than the former's crude directness.
Analysis point by point:
To that fake Zen, true villain:
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Zen is neither false nor true, borrowing neither mind nor matter — how could the likes of you comprehend it? As for "true villain" — someone who prefers playing the "hypocrite gentleman" would naturally disdain the "true villain," and that's all there is to it. Everyone can see through this!
Your poetry has decent command of words, but no true feeling — just piling up concepts, nothing more than metrically correct empty bombast. Your poems say nothing.
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Does this ID's command of poetic words need your commentary? What was written here on-screen is already more than you can handle! Unlike certain people who can't even manage proper meter and have to claim they're "breaking free from metrical constraints" as an excuse for their embarrassment! Did meter ever constrain Du Fu? Does meter ever constrain this ID? As for what this ID composed on-screen following the rhyme — "Heaven and earth have tears — they cannot form a poem; blood waters the hills, spirits and ghosts gallop. For a hundred li, fresh dead bones still overflow; a thousand years, living flesh is wounded once again. A boat can carry or capsize — cry that the people matter; heaven grants shade or shine — awaken the nation from its baseness. The vast wild lies windless, sinking into eternal night; a lone star like the moon, its spirit towering to the brow." — whether this is "no true feeling, just piling up concepts, nothing more than metrically correct empty bombast" is for the public to judge, provided you can even understand it. For those who couldn't understand it at all, naturally they can only say "your poems say nothing" — thus exposing their own disgrace!
Your understanding of regulated verse is at a middle-school level — what you said is simply wrong. Do you even know what parallel couplets are? You haven't even understood my poems.
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Du Fu never "understood" regulated verse — he just wrote it, and this ID is the same. The work decides everything. Associate Professor Kong's "At twenty-five, yearning to daub a poem, gut-wrung, the brush won't gallop. Old grudges like sores ache in wind and rain, new feuds like gashes rend the skin. Qín Qióng could swallow a thousand tears, Yè Tǐng — why sing one word of baseness? Bright sun lights the lamp to fight the long night, for now the sword is sheathed, awaiting brows held high." — this Cultural Revolution slogan-style stuff doesn't even qualify as rough and rugged; it's simply laughable the moment it's put to paper. Take note: everything you wrote, this ID covered in the rhyme-matching poem; what you wanted to write but couldn't, this ID also wrote; what you never even thought of, this ID wrote that too. You didn't know? How pitiful!
Especially your tone — the classic face of a petty villain. You think you're worthy of discussing history? But I won't insult you by saying you embarrass anyone — you're just a scoundrel who can barely write poems!
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History is not for discussing — history is for violating. And history keeps proving that those who wear the mask of a gentleman are the most dangerous. As for that last line — "But I won't insult you by saying you embarrass anyone — you're just a scoundrel who can barely write poems!" — following the principle of "courtesy demands reciprocity" so beloved by those who wear the gentleman's mask, this naturally must be returned to Associate Professor Kong!
When I was writing poems at your level, your whole family hadn't been born yet! You dare discuss poetry with me? Shameless!
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Associate Professor Kong truly lives up to his ancestry as a descendant of the great Master Kong — he finally managed to speak some truth. Associate Professor Kong is now in his forties. In all of Associate Professor Kong's 40-odd years of existence, there has never been a time when this ID's entire family was unborn. Therefore, Associate Professor Kong's claim that "When I was writing poems at your level, your whole family hadn't been born yet" can only refer to an event that never occurred — which is to say, Associate Professor Kong admits: he has never achieved this ID's level of poetry, not even the level of this ID's casual on-screen rhyme-matching, not once in his entire life. Honesty deserves encouragement. As for Associate Professor Kong's parting shot "You dare discuss poetry with me? Shameless!" — like the habitual petulance of all middle-aged men, just let him be!
Finally, would Associate Professor Kong please lead everyone in chanting in unison: "If you're a hooligan, who do you fear? Hooligans fear only female hooligans!" — 368 times! Thank you!
缠中说禅 2006/9/24 10:05:05
Appendix:
Kong Qingdong, you embarrass the Chinese Department, but don't embarrass Peking University!
Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán Recently, as autumn approaches, the weather is getting dry. Everyone on earth hopes for a bit more moisture, and this fuss over poetry has heated up. Poet Zhao made a splash that shook the world, drawing a torrent of saliva and greatly increasing global humidity. But compared to Associate Professor Kong Qingdong, Poet Zhao is nothing — when Poet Kong appeared, the greenhouse effect instantly became the wetroom effect, even the sun turned into the moon, and fluids flowed without end.
Although Poet Kong ("the Wet One") has made such formidable contributions, this ID must still thunder: Kong Qingdong, don't embarrass Peking University! Look at what you've written — you even dare write classical poetry! You think because you can get "wet" you can write verse? You think because your ancestor said "Without studying poetry, one cannot speak," that makes you a poet? Everyone, look at what this man has written — what a disgrace! Quoted below:
Self-Birthday Poem at Twenty-Five
Kong Qingdong
At twenty-five, yearning to daub a poem, gut-wrung, the brush won't gallop.
Old grudges like sores ache in wind and rain, new feuds like gashes rend the skin.
Qín Qióng could swallow a thousand tears, Yè Tǐng — why sing one word of baseness?
Bright sun lights the lamp to fight the long night, for now the sword is sheathed, awaiting brows held high.
What on earth is this? Parallel couplets repeated, the meter is wrong — is "Bright sun lights the lamp to fight the long night" even a proper regulated line? And "a thousand tears" dares to pair with "one word of baseness"? As for the verses themselves, they're not only bland and tasteless but childish beyond belief; the rhyme scheme is a mess, and even basic diction is problematic. If this ID were still writing such stuff at age 25, this ID would be too embarrassed to claim Peking University — and if I did claim it, there'd be only one path: straight into Weiming Lake. Chinese Department, you still have the nerve to call yourselves Peking University's most formidable department?
Peking University — though the futures market beside me is wildly fluctuating, this ID must still weep bitterly for you, for who made you so important in this ID's life! For the sake of Peking University, this ID now composes on-screen a rhyme-matching poem to this so-called Chinese Department Associate Professor Kong Qingdong's "Self-Birthday Poem at Twenty-Five" — let the quality speak for itself.
Rhyme-Matching Kong Qingdong's "Self-Birthday Poem at Twenty-Five," No. 1:
Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán Heaven and earth have tears — they cannot form a poem; blood waters the hills, spirits and ghosts gallop.
For a hundred li, fresh dead bones still overflow; a thousand years, living flesh is wounded once again.
A boat can carry or capsize — cry that the people matter; heaven grants shade or shine — awaken the nation from its baseness.
The vast wild lies windless, sinking into eternal night; a lone star like the moon, its spirit towering to the brow.
Good heavens — the original poem's rhyme scheme is utter garbage. Associate Professor Kong was basically just padding rhymes. Of course, even such a garbage rhyme scheme can't stump this ID. Associate Professor Kong, learn a thing or two — you can embarrass the Chinese Department, but please don't embarrass Peking University!