But there are stronger reasons than cultural to make peace with our Chinglish. Today's world is only a global village if we're all speaking the same language.

English is no longer a foreign language to be cultivated in rarified classrooms and trotted out for display like a prize pedigree terrier. It is a vital communication tool, a key for opening doors, a pole for knocking opportunities off the high branches.

Some of us get it though, and nowhere was the difference between Chinglish lovers and haters more apparent than the San Gabriel Valley, just east over the hills from LA. Millions of Chinese speakers, along with Chinese TV shows, supermarkets, car dealers, real estate agents, and even government phone menus, make a hyperbaric chamber where English hardly ever creeps in.

The Chinglish lovers there, with utter disregard for the finer points of English, were making deals, building businesses, and generally imposing their will in the "Land of Opportunity."

Any snickering at their dropped L's and R's no doubt stopped when they got into their late-model luxury cars. These Chinglish lovers had the old Chinese practical/romantic paradigm in the proper order, as in small English, big money for me, big college, small worry for my children.

One of these Chinglish lovers, Julie from Taiwan, taught me the potential for Chinglish, its ability to pare down and simplify a language otherwise overburdened with Germanic insistence on form over function.

Her, "I tell you before; price good, buy. No like price, no buy," ended a debate over a house she had listed far more effectively than 10 minutes' worth of "I'm sure we can arrive at a mutually satisfactory sum," could have.

She sold the house, with a lot of contingencies in her favor. In the face of the buyer's repeated questions, "Why can't the seller …", "Why didn't you tell me earlier …", "Why does the contract say …", Julie invented an instant Chinglish classic, "No why!"

I'm not in touch with Julie anymore, so I can't say if her Chinglish has improved. I know her lifestyle has, as she made it from the gritty valley city of El Monte to the glitzy gated community of Diamond Bar.

The point is that her Chinglish proved more than adequate as a communication tool, and that if 1 million of us here in China showed the same spirit, then English would quickly turn from elusive fawn to sturdy plow-horse, turning earth where the richest dreams could grow.

Consider Australia, New Zealand, Ireland and Scotland, and the question of what constitutes "standard English" becomes moot. Take into account Hinglish ("You are a number one silly duffer, sir.") and the case is closed.

If English is mandatory, then it is ours to play with, to make our own. No need write more. I go park.

The author is a Beijing-based freelance writer who spent 10 years studying design in the US. xie.kerry33@gmail.com