Ancient Bulgarian history

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 Byzantia, 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, where'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 sonofabitch, 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 sonofabitch. He'd just say "Your momma!" at the most, point
his spear straight forward, yell "Taaaaaantraaaaaa!!!" which was
the battle cry of all the 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
new what the hell they 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 Tantra - 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 fucking
                         Vigorously
         Asparuch smiled. If he was a native Indian, he would-be
played his flute. If he was a Japanese, he would've performed 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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Eye no owl eye neat too no abaut spelnig, tank u vary match!