From: "Lazarin Lazarov" <llazarov@inetnebr.com>
Newsgroups: soc.culture.bulgaria
Subject: Balkans of the VI century
Date: Fri, 19 Nov 1999 19:19:50 -0600

Going over an old floppy today, I didn't delete by chance a post of Ivan Vasilev (Crazy) posted in this group almost 5 years ago. It has been devoted to the proto Bulgars arrived in the Balkans and to khan Asparuh - the founder of the 1st Bulgarian state just 1300 years ago. I can't help to posting it again. Enjoy:
 

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From: Ivan Vasilev ivanvasilev@delphi.com
Newsgroups: soc.culture.bulgaria #44537
Subject: Happy Aesthetic New Year
Date: Mon Jan 16 23:27:12 EST 1995

 Many years ago, the proto Bulgars came from central Asia to invade the Balkans. They were no Slavs, mind you. The Slavs were all pussies - working the land, slaving under Bysantia, wearing them white pajamas (and didn't even know karate)... in other words, they were making asses outa themselves. They were, ladies and gentlemen, the laughing stock of Europe. It would be like, here comes the Bizantine dude, all in armor, on his horse, looking for trouble. And there would be Milovan, in his white robe, holding a pot of wild honey (that he had been gathering for a good part of that beautiful, summer morning) and awaiting for a command. So Stavrakis, the soldier, would go: "Milovan, wher's your daughter, you brainless scum? Didn't I tell you that I like your daughter? Uh? Didn't I tell you that next time I come here, I wanna inspect your daughter - personally!?" And Milovan's big, sky-blue, clear eyes would feel with fear and anxiety and he'd be like "Yes, Sir, Mr. Stavrakis, but she ain't here. Her aunt is sick, so she went to Skopie to visit her." And Stavrakis would be like "Sick, uh? You better watch it, asshole, 'cause one of those days you gonna really piss me off!" And he'd smack Milovan right across the face, rip his virgin-white robe all to pieces, kick his bare ass, get the pot of honey and ride off. The arrogant sonofab-tch, that's exactly what he'd do. And Slav Milovan would just lay there and cry and moan and curse his bad fortune. Yup, that's what were the Slavs like.

The Bulgars were another thing altogether - big, hairy dudes with strong affinity towards babes, booze and fights. They were professional warriors, passionate lovers, poets and gentlemen in all respect. If a Bulgar was to meet Stavrakis, he won't even talk to the sonofab-tch. He'd just say "Your momma!" at the most, point his spear straight forward, yell "Taaaaaantraaaaaa!!!" which was the battle cry of all Bulgars (and powerful kiai as well), charge forward and stab Stavrakis in the throat. Yup, that's exactly what he'd do. Of course, afterwards, he'd take that pot of honey for himself, but he won't kick or abuse Milovan or anything like that. As I said the Bulgars were gentlemen. That's why Milovan and them Slavs liked the Bulgars. They'd feed them with milk and honey (The Beatles actually were very aware of ancient Balkan history. More so than you might imagine), give 'em a place to stay and treat them nicely and with respect. In return, the Bulgars would protect them against Bizantia and provide the Slavs with management and supervision. Well, Milovan's daughter would most definitely lose her virginity to a Bulgar, but that's better than her fiddling with Stavrakis and his bunch. The Bulgars were lovers too and they knew what the hell were doing in bed as well as in the battlefield. (For more information on that topic, the scholars among ourselves are encouraged to read the brilliant work of Dr. Y. Dontchev, "Svalyach Li E Bulgarskiyat Mqzh"). Them Greeks all had small dicks anyhow and they didn't know shit about love making. For example, Plato was saying "Beauty is Truth and Truth is Beauty" while Asparuch was saying "Hot mama, just climb on my elevator and by the time I take you to the highest floor, you wouldn't care shit about turth or beauty"! Now, if you were a lady, who would you choose? No wonder all the Slavic chicks were going for them big, hairy Bulgarian studs and intermixing like you wouldn't believe it. (Well, if it was up to Jimmah, he'd say that they were f--king like rabbits, but in His infinity wisdom, God didn't bless Jimmah with any writing talants whatsoever, so we're all spared from his sensless profanities). Well, that wasn't that good for the Bulgars ('cause in a few generations the purity of that warrior blood watered down significantly), but that's how history goes and there ain't a darn thing we could do about it.

Anyhow, so here they were, invading the Balkans, kicking ass left and right. They were led by Asparuch , a dude of about 65 years of age, strong as an ape and stubborn as a mule. So, after another battle, Asparuch was sitting in front of his tent, drinking yogurt and scratching his crotch. It was New Year's eve. The sun was shining, birds were singing, dogs were f--king and nature was the perfect proof that God indeed existed. However, Asparuch didn't give shit about that. It was about a thousand years before Thoreau was even born, so the proto Bulgars weren't that hot on the idea that God and Nature were somehow related . As far as they were concerned , God was Tangra - a big, hairy dude who liked to fight, drink and get laid, just as themselves. Obviously, since they came from central Asia, the more learned of them were aware of the Ying-Yang interplay between the elements, but Asparuch was never much philosophically inclined. Nevertheless, he couldn't help it but notice the sublimeness of the moment and suddenly, a verse came to his mind:

Lugubrious B-flat
Peeled orange
Two dogs f--king
Vigorously

Asparuch smiled. If he was a native Indian, he would-be played his flute. If he was a Japanese, he would perform the Cha-No-Yu ceremony. But he was neither, he was only a proto Bulgar, so he scratched his crotch once more and kept smiling.

The sun was slowly drowned in the dampness of night, the dogs bit each other's asses and finally separated, but that sense of beauty and onness remained forever. And even nowadays, when you see a Bulgarian scratching his crotch and smiling, you should recognize in him the aesthete, the philosopher and the poet, the seeker of Truth and Beauty. We've had it ever since Asparuch and we still have it!

Happy Aesthetic New Year to all of you,

 -= Ivan =-

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