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Mr. Editor: A certain gentleman who knows I’m friends with the fellow who collects material about Bai Ganyo gave me the enclosed letter to deliver to that fellow. This letter is so original and so typical that it would not be remiss to publish it in your paper, the Banner, as an insert. How the letter fell into the hands of this gentleman is not known to me. Sofia,  October  a lucky guy89 2 To the editor of the paper Now Is Not the Time:90 You young whelp, you, why did you slander me in the paper Now Is Not the Time, alleging that I was in the opposition, huh? How much sense have you got? None at all, kid. Would your Bai Ganyo be in the opposition? Or maybe you said to yourself,“Hang on. If there are fewer of us, then we’ll each get a bigger share.” You’re not so dumb; I know you. But then again, to tell you the truth, you are dumb. Or rather, not dumb, but just a little  Bai Ganyo in the Opposition? Don’t You Believe It!  89. Shtastlivets, literally“lucky/happy one,” was Aleko’s nickname. 90. “Now Is Not the Time”was Aleko’s name for the weekly magazine Progress, edited by Konstantin Velichkov and others. During the Stambolov regime, the journal was the organ of the United Opposition, and Velichkov worked with it even though he was in exile (see n). After the fall of Stambolov, Progress became the organ of the Progressive-Liberal party and supported the government of Konstantin Stoilov, criticizing Dragan Tsankov and Petko Karavelov. Before the unification of Eastern Rumelia with the Principality of Bulgaria in  (see n), the editors campaigned on the slogan of unification for northern and southern Bulgaria. Once they were in power, however , in conformity with the Treaty of Berlin, they announced that“the time has not yet come.” As a result they were dubbed “pseudounitarists” and “Now-Is-Not-the-Timers.” wet behind the ears. When it comes to these types of things, ask your big brother. Just yesterday, as it were, you dug up a tasty bone, but your big brother has already been gnawing on that same bone for nine sweet years, and he has no intention of ever letting it go. And anyway, you know, kid, to tell you the plain truth, there’s enough for the both of us. Long live the Nationals!91 Back when I went to Sofia in the delegation, in order to beg that scoundrel not to resign,92 even then, remember, in the taverns of Vrazhdebna,93 even then I understood that there’s no percentage in being in the opposition.“But why?” you will ask. Why? It’s perfectly clear. You do the work, and other people get all the goodies. And what kind of people? The cream of the crop! They’re all educated, talented. Our predecessors were a totally savage bunch. They stole right before your very eyes, by force, like rank amateurs. They even indulged in debauchery; they sullied the honor of women, of girls, of . . .Well, kid, isn’t that so, huh? And finally, they landed in the trap with both feet. You see, our folks today aren’t like that. There’s no one up for debauchery. That is, how can I put this? It’s not that there isn’t anyone up for it, but who’s going to follow them up one Plovdiv hill and down another94 or make the circuit of the Turkish baths and ask what’s up? They know a trick or two, how money changes hands, and that’s the truth! And they’ve got things arranged so that whether it’s embarrassing or not—I have to admit it, my friend—I’m awestruck. Nice work, sons of bitches! Now that’s education for you! You can do business with people like that—I know what it’s like. Those who preceded us had gone berserk. They were shooting and hanging and beating and maiming the populace right and left. And for what? For nothing. And today, do you see? It’s only at election time that they clamp down and won’t let you budge. Otherwise, you’re free to do whatever you like! Shout, curse, sling as much mud as you want—no one says anything to you.And why should they bother with the opposition? Let ’em...

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