The political fortune tellers here are completely indifferent to the fate of their heroes - and they remain to the end some repulsively unreal people, as if created with the sole purpose of annoying us.
And the electoral system also encourages fortune tellers, at least in this respect: if the vote were majority, they would not be salivating only with the general talk with which they push the parties as much as they can. Although they have been deprived of any identity for many years and exist somehow alongside the ingenuity and commercial skills of their leaders.
At least the election programs should be the most important bait with which the parties sell themselves to the voters, but the exact opposite happens: a person with a normal political sense would never fall for the delights in the party programs, they are simply an almanac of nonsense that no one seriously relies on, you will simply burst out laughing if you decide to take a look at them in a year or two.
Simeon called the people who make a living from political fortune-telling "soothsayers". It was not clear whether he was ironizing them in this way or simply sucking up another word in his inimitable manner. By the way, he found a serious rival in Kircho, who is diligently opening up new horizons for the aforementioned swindle...
In any case, these days even the few who still bother to offer something meaningful to the political arena would not be able to answer one elementary question, if someone were to ask them: how do the parties actually sell their wares - and how do fortune tellers help them in this endeavor, which is often overflowing with filth?
When Kennedy became president, his father Joseph, who was not worried about being called a mafia member, blurted out to a reporter: “They sold JFK the way soap is sold... Don't think he believes in what he sells... He is packaged and convenient for your consumption...“
It will certainly be interesting to hear how our fortune tellers sell the local ones soaps. They are not very skilled in packaging, that is at least obvious. But there is no case in the years of the Transition that they have overturned, broken the attitudes of the audience. They are always playing in a predetermined match. There was no surprise in the loss of Petar Stoyanov to Parvanov. Kostov would never forgive Stoyanov's remark - “Tell yourself, Ivan, they will understand you!“ Neither would Ivan have said it, and at his urging, nor would anyone ever have understood it. And what exactly did Kostov - the state-sucker - have to understand, those fools who have never understood anything?
By the way, Stoyanov continues to experience himself as a supreme arbitrator, to whom even History itself assists - such fantasies are completely natural for a provincial lawyer, especially if he is not particularly restrained in his self-assessment. Stoyanov recently presented his sherbetized version of the events of January 1997 again - this seems to help him more painlessly experience the meanness of "his own people", who openly blamed his campaign. But there are people, also "his own people", who still consider his meager remark as an expression of meanness towards the All-Powerful.
As paradoxical as it may be, Kostov, who dreamed of becoming a member of the Communist Party and did not hide it, today seems to be a more authentic "anti-communist" by many sufferers, who gave the measure of true anti-communism.
The naivety in Bulgarian politics is touching - but it is also becoming more and more discouraging: how can some people understand that an inaccessible sphinx can also have sins... In this respect, as a keeper of secrets, Kostov is simply unparalleled: he keeps his most personal scoundrels by his left knee, lets them wet him with their tears - what a blessing, right? And, in fact, he is in a completely different place, in his own dimension, and even the supposedly omnipotent History has no access to him there... They could not understand that their only chance is to enslave him... And not he, but they, with their ridiculous convulsions, ruined the “right” - and he only encouraged them with his thin smile; some didn't even understand what exactly this "right" is, and now they don't. This is how things sometimes happen in "History" - when you remove/peel away the excess around a mystery, you will eventually understand that it is often created by strange people with equally strange deviations. And Kostov could be called "the most brilliant mediocrity of the party", but he survived, unlike the author of this revelation about Stalin...
Wait: who sold the soap Kostov? There is no answer to this question either, and there never will be, but it happened.
You can consider it some kind of punishment from God, or you can just spit in your lap. At least three times. The fortune tellers served him furiously, then cursed him just as furiously. But they still didn't get any answer. And there is no explanation, at least approximately. And History has a hand in this: it is not particularly inclined to reveal the secrets of such people, perhaps because it would ù It would be boring without them... In such cases, you know where the counter is...
The fortune tellers don't make much effort to penetrate even the seemingly simple, as if they start to drown them in acid if someone turns out to be not quite suitable for the hastily created idea of him... Radev is the typical irritant for them.
The young probably haven't heard a joke that was very popular in the first years of the Great Pretense, referring to representatives of the Green Party and the ecological formations: “Supposedly green, but red on the inside!“ In fact, at least at that time, the reds turned out to be more skillful than the “blues” in everything, perhaps that is why Kostov hated his own, because of their slowness and inflexibility in business - otherwise who knows how far he would have gone in his intentions. But they largely did not understand him at all. “Tell me, Ivan?!“ He has given you an entire presidency, and you still don't care...
History also suggests these seemingly small things to us late - when there is nothing left to care about. They pretended, tore their shirts to show the fools how red, then blue their hearts were - by the time the Great Pretense opened the shutters, no one was interested in this theater anymore, even the fortune tellers weren't particularly enthusiastic, you could see their sour food and that's just how it was.
However, Radev was a Muscovite - some of the most unbridled fortune tellers, who come from the reddest families, red and even bloody red, claim it.
Let me open a parenthesis: these days I was impressed, even - to be honest - I was burned by an obituary written by Boykikeva, the mother of Hristo Ivanov, a memorial sheet for the comrades ù in idea, Bulgarians, exterminated in the Siberian camps. Such an unadulterated feeling flows from it that it makes me bitter; such praise - don't let that word confuse you - of the soaring power of suffering that one forgets the communists, the fascists, and the increasingly cheap ideas that seem to really be destroying us...
And Radev - what? Suitcase, train station, Moscow? And he went straight to their heads - to the most vocal fools. Puff up your cheeks that he is a Moscow agent, create a wonderful alibi for him, and he also knows his game, especially the one with words. And how are you going to catch this story from both ends? Not at all. Besides, the fortune tellers are - let's put it this way - stiff sparrows, still recovering from the shock they experienced after the elections. Few people are willing to step deeper than the “epidermal”, as if it seems like an unnecessary effort, if this laziness overcomes us, one day we will all find ourselves at some train station, only it will not be clear where the train will take us. If it appears at all.
It must be a really big fool who thinks that these words are some kind of praise for Radev. He finished his when he made fun of Boyko's tsetse. But he is still too unclear - and wants to remain that way. And that is a problem. We have always suffered from “leaders” either unbearably clear or equally unbearably secretive. And no one from either breed cared, and perhaps did not know what and how to tell us. For example: what poverty of ours should the remains of Samuil be covering?
And the mess around the Shipka monument - who will like it?
So many heroes were frolicking at the Monument to the Soviet Army - and in the end some woman tore it down! And while we hide behind women, we will still be haunted by Herbst's words, in the first hours of the war with the Serbs: “The only man in Sofia at that time was Ekaterina Karavelova...“.