#Southern blots are named after a guy and we were all like hey i have a great idea

[pig-wings]

They have got to stop letting biologists name things

[gold-from-straw]

Crush

This is a fic I wrote after I accidentally flirted with @unticka by telling her I had a crush on the person in her profile pic.

And then found out it was her ACTUAL FACE and had to go and crawl into a hole. Luckily she agreed it should be a Cherik fic so here we go lol!

Read this utterly silly fluffy thing on AO3 if you prefer ^_^ Warnings for some allusion to past drug addiction and lots of Erik being a socially anxious bean.

Erik’s phone buzzed and he picked it up, smirking at the comment Charles had added to their chat.

CX: I swear on all that’s holy if one of you brings Jaegermeister to my party this year I will scream

CX: I found the last bottle in the back of my cupboard. I can smell it through the glass I am not even joking

Erik pushed himself forwards and quickly typed brb, just going to the liquor store, grinning as it appeared on the screen.

Raven cleared her throat, and Erik looked up. “Are you quite finished?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the group chat I invited you to join, but I am now sitting in front of you. In the flesh. Buying you coffee.”

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly and put his phone away.

“It’s fine,” she smirked. “You and Charles are getting along well, I see.”

“He’s an idealistic idiot,” said Erik immediately.

She nodded and sipped her latte. “And he makes you laugh. Honestly, you two need to just start messaging each other directly, let the rest of us get a look in on the group chat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his face dropping. “I never meant to irritate anyone.”

She shook her head. “You’re not, really, I’m only teasing. Don’t take me seriously, Erik, you know I’m full of shit.”

He twisted his lips and nodded, but he didn’t believe her. There was no smoke without fire, after all, and she had been kind enough to introduce him to all of her friends when he moved to New York. He didn’t know what he’d have done without those contacts. The only reason he hadn’t spent his entire first month in his apartment alone was because of Raven and her friends.

She put her hand over his, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, Erik, I really was only joking.”

“Are you sure I’m not imposing on the group?”

“Absolutely. Look, you’ll see on Friday when we all get together for Charles’ birthday up in Westchester. I know you’ve met Sean and Emma already, the others are looking forward to getting to know you in person too. And if you and Charles start debating politics again there are plenty of empty rooms we can lock you in together until you sort your shit out. We’ll just eat the pizza and watch the movie.”

“Without the birthday boy?” Erik laughed.

“Oh, a good argument will be Charles’ favourite birthday gift of the day, trust me,” Raven said, flicking her red hair back.

Erik tucked his phone into his bag and focused completely on Raven for the next couple of hours, discussing the latest gossip, the assignment Raven had to do on her poetry module and whether Erik had found an actual bed, yet, or if he was still sleeping on the futon they’d found on Craigslist when he first arrived in New York.

Erik was proud of himself for not having glanced at his phone until he was walking the last stretch between the subway and his apartment. A new message showed up on his phone, and Erik would have denied to his dying day that he got a little jolt under his sternum when he saw the name come up - Charles Xavier. He clicked on the notification.

CX: My friends tell me I need to talk to you directly rather than through the group chat. Apparently we’re clogging up the airwaves.

Erik’s smile pulled at his cheeks and he tugged his bag higher on his shoulder, freeing up both hands to type.

EL: Raven told me the same thing

CX: They’re obviously just jealous

EL: Or not nearly interesting enough.

Charles sent back a laughing emoji and Erik tapped on his profile picture, trying to enlarge it a little, as he so often did when he spoke to Charles. He’d always idly thought that someone’s profile picture could tell you a little bit about them. His own was a picture of a great white shark that Raven had texted him from the aquarium saying ‘he’s got your smile’. Hank had a picture of a southern blotting array, apparently - he’d asked, once, and left none the wiser. Moira and Sean had pictures of actors, Emma had a picture of herself flipping the bird, and Raven’s picture changed every couple of days, a landscape, a piece of artwork, a macro close up of a leaf, whatever she felt like at the time.

Charles’ photo had to be of an actor or a celebrity of some sort. The photo was clearly professionally taken, for a magazine or something. The man in the picture had dark brown hair falling in waves around his face, a broad nose and the most gorgeous lips, quirked into a half smile, as if the actor, whoever he was, didn’t want the photographer to know he was amused. He was wearing a blazer, his blue shirt open at the top few buttons to show tantalizing hints of collarbone and freckles. And his eyes. Oh, dear god, his eyes, so wide and blue and staring right into Erik’s soul.

Erik definitely had a crush on the nameless actor. But the best thing about it was that if Charles had a picture of some pretty actor on his profile, he was also probably, maybe, possibly queer himself.

His phone chimed, and he clicked back off the picture.

CX: Raven tells me you’re definitely coming to the party on Friday! It’ll be good to meet you in person, my friend

EL: Thank you for inviting me - are you sure you want a complete stranger there??

CX: You’re hardly a stranger, we’ve been talking for weeks!

Erik found himself smiling again. Charles was so cheerful and friendly - what on earth was he doing chatting with a sarcastic misanthrope like Erik all the time?

EL: You’ve all been very kind. The people who told me New Yorkers were unfriendly are bastard liars

CX: Ah, well, I’m hardly a New Yorker, I’m afraid. I’m only Raven’s step-brother, and never managed to pick up the accent. I’m English

EL: To be fair people tell me the English are unfriendly too. Liars, the lot of them

Charles sent another laughing emoji, and Erik wondered what Charles sounded like when he laughed. He wondered what he looked like, for that matter.

EL: Can I bring anything to the party?

CX: Only yourself, please.

He didn’t know what it was that made him ask. What was he thinking? He couldn’t even blame the alcohol, because Raven and Sean had been monopolising most of that on the drive up to Westchester, and he couldn’t blame his giddy mood on the others, because Moira had been talking to him most of the trip about the recent opinion polls. So why? Why in the name of all that’s holy had he sat back after they stopped to pick up some more beer, opened up the messaging app and texted Charles?

EL: I have to confess, I’ve got a massive crush on the guy in your profile picture, and it’s driving me mad - who is he? I don’t recognise him from any films

And then the reply that made the bottom drop out of Erik’s world and made his stomach cold with horror.

CX: Oh… well, that’s very flattering. It’s a picture Raven took of me a couple of years ago

And now what the hell was Erik going to do? He couldn’t ask Moira to stop the car so he could run out into the woods and become a hermit. He couldn’t exactly brush it off. He couldn’t take it back. What he wouldn’t do for the ability to go back in time and tell him to leave his fucking phone alone.

He wanted to apologise, but why would Charles even want to talk to him? How creepy was it to hear someone had been checking out a picture of you? He’d thought it was a photo of an actor, but there was no way he’d ever have told the actor he found him captivating. What was Charles meant to do with this information now, when Erik was about to turn up at his door and impose on his hospitality for hours?

Part of him wanted to send him a photo of himself as some sort of twisted apology, but what was that meant to do? Was Charles meant to go ‘oh, I too have a crush on you!’

“What’s up, Erik?” Raven asked, shoving his shoulder.

“I just told accidentally told someone I have a crush on them,” he croaked, just taking Charles’ name out of the equation before he could fuck things up even further.

“How the hell did you do that?” she laughed, taking another draw of her beer.

“I didn’t know it was their picture,” he moaned. “I just wanted to know which actor it was and it was them.”

“Show me!” she said, grabbing for his phone. He stuffed it between his legs, and she narrowed her eyes at him, calculating. “Don’t think that’s a no-go area for me, Lehnsherr.”

“How am I going to look them in the eye now?” Erik wailed instead, covering his face with his hands.

“I bet she was pleased,” Sean said, turning around from the front passenger seat. “It’s a compliment, isn’t it? Not like you were creepy to the girl, were you?”

“No,” he said, not bothering to correct Sean’s assumptions. “I mean, not deliberately… but it’s creepy to think someone’s been looking at your picture that way, isn’t it?”

“Only if you’ve been wanking over it,” Sean shrugged.

“Sean!” yelped Moira, slapping him on the arm.

“Hey! It’s true, isn’t it?”

Raven patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, man,” she said. “Whoever it is would be lucky to have you perving over them.”

“Oh god, don’t put it that way!” he yelled.

***

He spent the rest of the drive trying to work out what to say in response, to work out exactly how he could apologise and regain a little bit of his pride. He knew he was overthinking this, Raven, Sean and Moira had changed the subject and started chatting about something else quickly enough, but he was already worked up about meeting so many new people, to have made such a social faux pas before he’d even met them was almost unbearable. So much for thinking he’d got his social anxiety under control.

The worst thing about it, the thing he really couldn’t admit to, wasn’t that he’d just told some stranger he thought he was pretty. It was that he’d told Charles he had a crush on his face. Charles. He already had a fucking crush on Charles through his messages! Now he was going to have to meet him for the first time without being able to hide his feelings, rather than feeling out whether Charles would be open to maybe going out for coffee or dinner with him, he was dumped straight past that careful searching right into blurting out ‘gosh you’re pretty!’

And then he had to walk up the drive to the most fucking gorgeous mansion, Raven making sarcastic comments about how she fucking hated the place and she didn’t know how Charles could stand living in all the bitter memories of their shitty childhood, and he wondered if anyone would notice if he just… ran off round the side and didn’t stop until he found some summerhouse or something - Americans had those, didn’t they? - and just hid there until he could sneak back into the car at the end of the party.

Raven shoved the door open. “Charles? Hey, birthday boy!”

Emma poked her head around the corner. “He disappeared somewhere about fifteen minutes ago, we were gonna send a search party. But you guys have beer, so fuck that!” She kissed them all in turn, waving them through to a huge panelled living room where people were scattered over leather couches and a pool table that had been pushed to the side. “Hey, everyone! This is Erik, be nice.” She smirked at him and left.

Erik stood tall and smiled at everyone. Mistake. A gangly lad slouching on the pool table actually squeaked. It seemed Erik had smiled like thatagain.

He toned it down and went to put his beers on a desk that was really never meant to be abused in such a way. The crowd mostly went back to their conversations, and Erik felt like he could breathe again. At least until Charles came back.

But he didn’t come back. Another fifteen minutes passed. He made awkward conversation with a blond kid who looked about nineteen and like he’d be more at home in a biker gang, and then much less awkward conversation with a guy called Darwin who had some interesting opinions about the state of the education system, but got called away mid-rant.

And Charles still wasn’t there. Nobody seemed too bothered, but Erik couldn’t help feeling like it was his fault somehow. Like he’d made things weird and Charles didn’t want to see the guy who’d been enlarging his profile photo to get a better look at his beautiful blue eyes.

Fuck. He needed to get out of there. He slipped quietly away from the room, back into a corridor, trying to find the main door, but the place was bloody huge. He must have taken the wrong turning somewhere. That door looked right - he turned the handle and… well, that was definitely not the door to the kitchen. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!”

The man in the wheelchair turned, long brown hair flicking back over his shoulders, and startled, familiar, blue eyes met his. “Charles?” Erik asked, blinking.

Charles opened and shut his mouth. “Erik?”

Erik laughed. Somehow having him right there across from him made his earlier fuckup so much smaller. “God, I’m so sorry for my message, I didn’t know that was you in the picture, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Especially on your birthday.”

“Uncomfortable?” Charles blurted. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in a dark room for about half an hour during your birthday party.” He frowned. “Actually that sounds like something I’d do.”

It startled a laugh out of Charles, just a short one, and Erik grinned. It sounded more lovely than-- shit, he shouldn’t be thinking like this, he’d already made things so awkward between them. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I can go if you--”

“No!” Charles cleared his throat. “I mean… you don’t have to. I’m… I just…” he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I was embarrassed.”

Erik winced. “Yeah, I can’t apologise enough.”

“Not about that,” he said, blue eyes peering up at him, and he looked so damn sad. Erik wanted to hug him. “I just… I should have changed that profile picture. I just… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Erik asked, frowning. He found himself crossing the room, sitting on an armchair across from Charles.

Charles gave a sad half-smile. “Well… it’s a bit misleading, isn’t it? I don’t look much like that any more. I mean, I’m getting better, I’m off the morphine, I’m… well, I’ve had a lot of help with everything. But I don’t… that’s not me in that picture any more, I suppose.”

Erik cocked his head on one side. “I recognised you.”

“I assume the wheelchair was a bit of a giveaway.” He glared at Erik suddenly. “I’m not ashamed of it. Not anymore - I had some… issues with it to start with, but that’s not why I’m hiding. If people can’t cope with my disability they can fuck off. It’s…” He gestured to his face. “I’m not exactly… that person any more.”

“First of all,” said Erik, “I didn’t know you were in a wheelchair. I didn’t know you’d had an accident, I’m sorry to hear you’ve had a rough time but… I recognised you from that picture. Your eyes are the same, your nose.”

“Oh, God, my nose,” Charles said with a rueful chuckle. He glanced up at Erik, long lashes framing his perfect blue eyes. “Now you must think I’m terribly vain. Hiding in here because I’m worried my lovely new friend won’t have a crush on me any more now he knows I look like a washed up old junkie.”

Erik groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Then he looked up at Charles again, the soft brown curls framing his face and falling down to his chin. He wondered how the scruff on his cheeks would feel against his fingertips, and he took a step over the edge. “I had a crush on you before I knew that was your face,” he said quietly. “The way you talk, the way you argue, your passion - your bloody naivete, honestly, Charles! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person so we could talk properly, interrupt each other in person, discuss politics and literature and chess until everyone else around us gets bored and leaves.”

Charles smiled, a wide, sincere thing which curled up his cheeks and crinkled the skin by his eyes. “Well,” he said, the room dark and quiet around them. “And here I was thinking I was the only person who could fall for someone by text.”

[demondeanismybaby]

A Little Chill

Pairing: Dean x Reader, brief mentions of Sam x Reader

Word count: 1970

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, teasing, one night stands

Square filled: Teasing @ spnkinkbingo

A/N: Alright, I had a down day and I promised myself I was going to spend it writing you guys some new smut to make up for the fact that this is the first thing I have written for you this week. I hope you guys like it! 

It had been a crazy night, you had been on a hunt with Dean again and after you had salted and burned the bones of the offending spirit the two of you were both feeling a little antsy with pent up energy. Your fingers were slowly picking off the label of the bottle of beer in your hands and Dean had stilled your motions and invited you back to the bunker to unwind. 

It had all started with the promise of a cup of coffee but before you knew it you had ended up here.

You felt your breath catch, your fingers dug into the edge of the chair you were sat in, legs spread open wide and bare ass pressing into the slowly warming plastic surface. Kneeling in front of you was none other than the famous Dean Winchester but at the moment the look of awe on his face made you seem more like the famous one. His eyes were dark as they moved from your exposed core to meet your own and it was his smile that had left you momentarily breathless. 

Thoughts raced through your mind and you tried to think of something sexy and sultry to say but inside your mouth stuttered out, “what are we going to do now?” You were completely bare from head to toe but Dean was still fully clothed. 

He had slowly undressed you pulling the unassuming flannel off your shoulders and undoing the button of your jeans before he helped you to shimmy them off your hips to pool around your feet. Your panties had been pulled over the curve of your ass and soon you were naked and being maneuvered to sit down while the oldest Winchester boy crawled onto the floor between your spread knees. 

“I have some ideas,” Dean said with an easy wink and then popped up off the floor. 

You closed your eyes, blotting out the room around you, and instead, you focused on taking some deep breaths and getting a hold of your nerves. This was not really like you but something about the way Dean had spoken and brought you a drink then casually brushed his fingers over your forearm back at the bar had been enough to convince you that this one night stand would totally be worth it in the end. 

You heard heavy footfalls coming towards you and you opened your eyes. You were blown away again by the green orbs and heavy lashes that greeted you from underneath the untamed dirty blond locks of hair you were just getting used to seeing in the midst of a hunt, in this setting, it all seemed strange and new. 

“I’ve got something I want to try,” he said as he got back down on the ground between your legs, his eyes traveling down to your pussy and his left hand clenching around your thigh for balance. 

You nodded ready for whatever he had in mind but suddenly you noticed his hands had left your body. 

“If anything gets to be too much just tell me to stop and we will, alright?” 

“Alright,” you agreed, noticing that for a guy that had probably had more one-night stands than the most promiscuous guy you knew he still acted like a southern gentleman. 

His smile had returned and again his hand was rubbing up and down along the inside of your upper leg. His right hand was clenched in a fist and resting slightly above your knee. You wondered why he was leaving it like that because you figured it just couldn’t be that comfortable but as he opened his palm you hissed and the sudden flash of sensation that shot directly to your already to your soaking core. 

“Cold,” you said but you didn’t ask him to stop because the varied feelings mixing on your body had each atom of you vibrating with pleasure. 

Moving his fingers he grasped the ice cube that he had been hiding between his fingers so that he was able to rub it along your thigh. You could feel your muscle twitch at the unexpected cold, still, he continued to draw wet little patterns against your skin. He moved it along the crease of your leg, then over your mound, your stomach sucked in as it tried to avoid the spreading trail of cold and wet that Dean was leaving on your body. He lifted his hand and you figured his little game was over but when the cold landed smack dab over the stiff peak of your nipple you could help the way your arm shot out and grabbed the first thiing that it could and squeezed nice and hard. 

“Hey,” Dean said with a deep chuckle, “don’t damage the merchandise,” and you did your best to relax the grip of your fingers on his shoulder. 

“Good girl,” he said before showing mercy and taking the dripping ice away. 

You were hoping that now that Dean had his fun the two of you were getting to the final inning and would be starting on the main event. As his head raised and was poised to start sucking on your chilly nipple you let yourself relax a little waiting for the pleasant feeling you knew was coming. 

Your eyes fell shut and your head tipped back to rest on the back of the chair and you slid your body closer to him. 

“Deannnn,” you said dragging out the end of his name as you groaned he was blowing his breath against you and the trail of water that still clung to your skin from the trail the ice had made. 

“What?” He said with a tone that clearly indicated he knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

You felt his breath softly breeze against your dripping cunt and then move over the inside of your leg. All the while your pussy was practically twitching with its own need to have Dean thrust himself deep inside of you. 

“I need,” you said as your hands began to tighten on the skin of his upper arms willing them to touch you as fiercely as you desired, “I have to have you touch me.” 

His hand rubbed your left thigh where it began to softly brush your skin up and down, “I am touching you,” he said. 

“No,” you whined, finally you did what he just wouldn’t you let go of him to take your hand to your own moist folds and began slowly rubbing first along the edge of your lips and then moving up to draw circles over your clit, “like this.” 

“Ohhhhh,” Dean said in mock surprise, “that’s what you meant, well, okay then.”

Suddenly, the teasing was over, Dean quickly pushed your hand away from yourself before his mouth latched onto your core, his tongue tracing over each portion of your skin that your hand had just been touching. He moved over your clit with little circle movements and made sure to suck and nibble at the delicate nub until your knees started to squeeze around his ears and your hand fisted in his hair and you started to grind your hips so you could move your cunt against his face. 

“Baby,” he said as he pulled back his face was glistening with your juices, “taste so good.” 

“Shut up Dean,” you said as you surged forward and captured his mouth in a kiss. 

He was practiced in his motions to maneuver you where he needed you and before you knew it he was sat down in the chair and your legs were spread over his. You knew what you need to do now, you took your hand and gripped his massive member, already hard and dripping pre-come, and you positioned your opening over him and then you sank down. You chest pressed against his and you couldn’t help but watch the way as you inched him inside of you his eyes fell closed and his hands found their way to your hips. 

“You ready?” He asked you his words thick with his obvious arousal. 

“Uh-huh,” you said your voice high and desperate with your own pleasure. 

He used his hands on your hips to guide the pace of the two of your motions. At first, he moved you up and down slowly and you had to fight your own legs from moving things faster. It was too slow not quite enough to give you the friction you needed to finally have you tipping over the edge of the orgasm that had been dancing just out of reach ever since Dean had touched that lone ice cube to your skin. 

“More please,” you said eventually when your whole body felt like a rubber band that had been stretched to its snapping point, “I need more of you,” and apparently the desperation in your voice was all Dean needed. 

Soon he was pumping into you hard and fast. His hips snapped up to meet yours and the sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room. His fingers dug into your skin and you were sure you would see thumb print sized bruises there tomorrow. It was that thought that had one of your hands traveling between the two of your bodies and going to rub quickly back and forth across your clit. Exactly enough with the drag of Dean’s cock against you g-spot to have your core clenching around him and your head falling back between your shoulders and your mouth open in a silent scream as your orgasm washed over you. 

It wasn’t long after that moment you felt Dean’s own orgasm tip him over the edge as his sticky warmth flooded inside of you. He carefully lifted you up and off his softening cock and slowly moved the two of you to lay curled up beside each other on the hard tile floor. You were too tired to really care that it was super uncomfortable. 

“Don’t you have a brother?” You said the thought coming to you suddenly that his strange relative might catch the two of you naked and wrapped up in each other's limbs at any moment. 

“Yeah Sam,” Dean said sounding completely unaffected by the idea of being caught like you were, “it's ok,” he continued, “I told him he had to wait for his turn.” 

“Wait,” you sat yourself up and looked down at the blond Winchester, “What?” 

When your eyes scanned across the open doorway and saw a younger looking man with long dark brown hair and legs that went on for smiles, his shirtless torso showing off his well-defined ab muscles, you thought to yourself, so wait, it’s his turn? I could get used to this.  

Tag List

@tardis-full-of-fallen-angels

@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes

@its-not-a-tulpa

@secretlyfurrydragon

[inaneinthenextplane]

#NotMyAss: A Case For Why The Democratic Party Should Change Its Symbol From The Andrew Jackson Donkey To, Anything More Progressive

“It is to be regretted that the rich and powerful too often bend the acts of government to their own selfish purposes.” - Andrew Jackson

People aren't perfect, in the modern day this can be noted about many (if not any) of us & our capacity as people toward imperfection permeates all from the lowest in the social pecking order to the highest. It is often said that when judging people in the past, especially of leaders both religious and political, that one should not apply the ethical standards of modernity when designating who does & doesn't deserve our collective admiration or respect as people. Certainly, the United States is not a stranger to the controversy plaguing its record & history. However most will tell you that while the founding fathers for instance may have been slave owners, they for their time had altered their society for the better. That through their violence against the system of monarchism, they're said to have bravely redefined societies' relationship with the government, incorporating some of the progressive elements of the age of enlightenment at that time to form a constitutional republic that would spring revolutionary fervor as far as France & even as close as Haiti against the French First Republic itself. However you may feel about the founding fathers, their religious & civic beliefs, their involvement in slavery, their war crimes against the Native population, etc, there is no doubt that they left behind a tumultuous legacy that cannot be said to have given modern society no gifts that the people of today continue to indulge in. Our constitution, though it is unfortunately often ignored or otherwise subverted by the government today, has given people rights and autonomy over their own lives that other nations only wish they could possess. Legacy is an important thing to consider when evaluating the worth of men of history, it's how we determine the weight of the gifts they've given to the world vs. their atrocities, how we determine who we'll honor from our past or condemn to the realm of the reviled.

Andrew Jackson was a war criminal Indian killer, a rogue president, and an enemy of the abolition of slavery. Apart from the founding fathers, he was a president & leader of the country with a fundamentally different kind of legacy. Some may even say his was an accomplished one, and indeed, it doesn't strike even me as wholly blemished or uproarious. However, any idiot could argue a silver lining within the track records of even the most loathsome of tyrants. "Mussolini may have instituted fascism, but, at least he had the trains running on time". "Mao Zedong may have been the catalyst for the murder of 45 million, but hey, he was good for women" (I'm not shitting you, this is a narrative pressed in the New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2017/09/25/opinion/women-china-communist-revolution.html). But, it isn't unreasonable to suggest his contribution to the country had its bright sides. In the interest of being measured I'll list some of said accomplishments here:

He was an accomplished general who throughout his military career diligently fulfilled his functions in the battles he fought, delivering crushing defeats to enemy armies, most notably the battle of New Orleans. This was one of the most one sided battles of the War Of 1812 and lead to the death of 2,037 British soldiers, compared to 71 Americans.

He expanded voting rights to all... white males. Which, I mean, as a white guy I have to take as something of a plus. I certainly shouldn't have to own land or pay a poll tax to vote. No siree bob, fuck you, up yours, get laid, eat shit, drop dead, jack me off, suck this, I'm not interested in your rigid voting standards. Perhaps, this could be said to have set the groundwork for future generations of increased suffrage for other interest groups.

He solved a succession crisis presented by South Carolina caused by Southern farmers' not wanting to pay high tarrifs issued to benefit Northern industrialists by authorizing the use of force in implementing the tariff but also passing a compromise bill that adjusted the rates enough to lower tensions among the growingly embittered population of the state. He fought the banks, and managed to be the only president to balance the federal budget & leave the country with zero national debt by the time he left office.

I list these in part because already I could picture the internal dialogue of people whom may be fans of Andrew Jackson, or who believe that historical outrage is an indulgence characteristic of SJW's & other victims of guilt over a contrived notion of white privilege who resent their own existence. I don't consider myself aligned with such outrage culture, however, the character of the country matters & our relationship with the past should reflect the lessons we've learned from it.

A brief history of the symbols of the two major parties: In 1828 Andrew Jackson's populist rhetoric earned him the designation of 'stubborn Jackass' among critics. However, this insult was adopted proudly by Jackson who then printed images associating his campaign with a strong willed & determined donkey. Conceptually its the campaign equivalent of taking back the “Ehn-Word”. Less interesting is the story of the Republican elephant, where basically a magazine named Harpers Weekly published a political cartoon of a bunch of animals fleeing from a braying mule but like, the elephant was brave and didn't flee. Woo-oo.

Here I would like to enumerate why I believe, as a leftist, that it is in the Democratic parties' best interest to shirk the donkey that now symbolizes the only party that fosters progressive thought, from Bernie Sanders to Elisabeth Warren to the majority of the liberal base of the US who vote.

We talk now a lot about the imperative nature of Supreme Court justices. Democrats begging the left to vote would use the Supreme Court as one of their alarmist rationales for voting not so much for Hillary Clinton, but rather against Trump. There's a current panic among the left as far as abortion goes, as the right has been seeking the death of Roe vs. Wade ever since its passage in the year of 1973. Well, lets talk about the Supreme Court & president Jackson. Jackson was a slave owner, which isn't at all unique to the history of presidents of that age, but let's compare him to Thomas Jefferson.

Jefferson (the third president), a noted slave owner, claimed he partook in the industry for economic purposes & actively resented the industry. Jefferson referred in public to the institution as a 'hideous blot' & even went as far as to ban the import of slaves into Virginia. His proposed amendment to ban slavery in all northern and southern states after 1800 would have succeeded, were it not rejected by one mere vote. Jefferson had a complicated relationship with slavery, & even as he owned slaves, he seemed not to be its legislative ally while in government.

The case of Dred Scott vs. Sandford is perhaps the most notorious decision made by the US Supreme Court. I remember learning it in history class as the worst ruling ever produced by the court in AP US Government class during high school. The ruling basically set back the abolitionist cause by many years and helped to solidify the inevitability of the entire Civil War. Basically, Dred Scott was an enslaved man who sued for his freedom after his master John Emerson had died, leaving his wife to handle his estate and therefore Dred Scott as a slave. He was not only denied his freedom but his ability to sue was rejected on the grounds that he, as a slave of "the negro African race", was property on level with a shovel or other type of tool. This decision stands as one of the worst decisions ever made in the history of the judicial branch of government, & it was facilitated by the appointments of Andrew Jackson, a vehement opponent of the then nascent movement towards abolition. By that point, four of the judges influencing this decision were appointed by Jackson, only one of which voted as a dissenting opinion. While John McLean of Ohio voted against, John Caltron, Roger Brooke Taney, and James Moore Wayne all voted in favor of the ruling. Compare this to what Jefferson, a president three terms down from him was attempting, with much less cultural traction at the time. Does the Democratic party at this time want to be represented by a symbol describing the man who committed the exact administrative evil they fear so much in this age, when Donald Trump threatens to do the same?

The Supreme Court today is one of the most sought after checks against the Executive Branch, especially today as Donald Trump attempts to institute so called 'Muslim bans' by cutting off immigration to majority Muslim nations. The courts, up until very recently, had put the kibosh on his ban, ruling it unconstitutional. Now the ruling has been temporarily uplifted, but the issue remains undecided & under review in the courts.

Imagine a world where Donald Trump ignored the ruling of the court, going as far as to throw Muslims out of the country at the barrel of a gun & barring refugees from wartorn nations in turmoil from entry everywhere from the mainland to even the territorial United States?

Well,

it just so happens that there is precedent for a president committing such an affront to the checks and balances of the United States. Oddly enough, only a few administrations into the country itself with its relatively new constitution no less.

The Trail Of Tears, earned Andrew Jackson the name of 'Sharp Knife' from the Cherokee nation, it was a forced death march designed to evict multiple native American tribes from the eastern territories of the United States out west to what is now Oklahoma. Rich American farmers were for a while during & prior to Jackson's' administration coveting the lands of the Indian nations of the Choctaw, Chickasaw, Seminole, Creek and Cherokee. Under the auspices of their 'savagery', the practice of forced removal of Indians from their land had been no big deal traditionally for state and federal governments of the United States. These five tribes however underwent the process of 'civilizing' themselves, & had organized private ownership, adoption of Christianity, learned to speak and read English, even circulating their own newspaper at that time in an attempt to distinguish themselves as perfectly willing to assimilate in the interest of becoming culturally neighborly as a people. They had even in many cases sued for their right to their lands not to be infringed. In cases such as 'Cherokee Nation v. Georgia' (1831) and 'Worcester v. Georgia' (1832), the Supreme Court itself even demanded that the state government of Georgia and Jackson's' administration cease the persecution of these tribes, affirming their sovereignty as nations.

But this motherfucker, this truly savage man, this rogue & treacherous president would go on to completely dispense with the opinion of the very court designed to provide a check on his office. Jackson said these fateful words in response to being contradicted by the court:

“John Marshall has made his decision;

now let him enforce it.”

A statement of utter irony, when one considers that is is the very nature of the Executive branch to enforce the laws, as interpreted by the courts, & crafted by the Legislative branch. Without any food, medicine, or clothing/blankets given from the government, the Chocktaw Indians would be first to journey at the point of a bayonet and sometimes even in chains down a miserably long road to Oklahoma. Of fifteen thousand Creek Indians that next would be moved, three and a half thousand would not make it. More than 5,000 Cherokees would die on their road to a forced new land. The Seminole Indians who would not leave even went as far as guerrilla warfare tactics, putting an ardent fight but ultimately failing to succeed in the preservation of their rightful lands. For the ones who capitulated to the governments demands & moved, diseases such as whooping cough, typhus, dysentery, & cholera among others would mar the entire genetic makeup of their people & starvation would plague them & only them as soldiers would accompany their miserable trek to a new life in a new land.

These people were not allowed to win. They were not allowed to live peacefully and many weren't even allowed to live because the United States was headed by a genocidal maniac, an opportunistic slave monger & white supremacist who had a history of practicing ethnic extermination throughout his military career; even going as far as to recommend the killing of Native American women and children to those under to him. In fact, during the first Seminole War prior to his presidency the military came upon two British men Alexander George Arbuthnot and Robert C. Ambrister living amongst the Seminole people. One of the men had written a journal expressing dissenting opinion against the persecution of the Seminole & their forced removal, which Jackson would use as the evidence necessary to try and execute them in a “special court martial” for conspiring to incite the tribe to fight back against his advance on them. A perfectly reasonable reaction for them to have come up with of their own volition! Only no, they were enticed to by these dangerous trouble making Brits.

What a contradiction of American values of freedom of speech, of due process, of the will of the Supreme Court!

Imagine being a Jew in modern day Germany, living in a democracy where one of the major supposedly leftist/liberal parties was symbolically depicted by a Nazi flag with no other options in sight to vote for representing your interests. Imagine being Jewish in a Germany where boys and girls pay for ice cream with dollar bills depicting the portrait of Adolf Hitler. Or where the grave to this day of Hitler is still honored to this day.

You might say this is a reach, but think of what was at stake for both groups of people. Think of the method of execution & even movement of these people who were both subject to genocide at the hands of a significantly more powerful 'other'. As the Soviet Union proceeded into Nazi territory from the eastern front, the occupants of concentration camps were evacuated and forced to move-via death march- where many would die of disease or being shot by SS soldiers when they could not go one, in the harshness of winter no less.

The property and territories of Native American tribes were sacked and their supplies stripped from them prior to being forcibly moved to the federal governments designated reservation, their movements took place under very similar circumstances & the general disregard for their humanity also strikes me as similar in their malevolence. There was simply no army to save “The Five Civilized Tribes” whose fate at the hands of their enemies would be most uncivil. 'Stubborn jackass' is perhaps the least venomous of insults you might lob at Jackson, & perhaps this is why he so willingly painted himself as such in the political landscape of his nation.

We shouldn't even honor the grave of this former president, his ironic place on the fiat currency of our American 20$ bill could not have found a more beautiful 'Fuck You' than in being replaced by abolitionist radical Harriet Tubman (though perhaps in her case 'cathartic' might be a better word) even if it is only on one side of the bill.

What is the utility of the donkey as the symbol of the Democratic party? When most people are obtuse to the history of it in the first place, why should the Democrats be content to leave anybody with the intellectual curiosity to research their primary logo the chance of being disgusted by their own national history? It strikes me as very ironic, when it should be iconic. It is a symbolic affront to one of their more coveted voter bases, because lets face it, Native American voters aren't exactly gung-ho to vote for the Republican party who specifically sell out to the very people who stand to profit from our modern affront to tribal rights, the tar sands Dakota Access oil pipeline. If Democrats are to be sincere in standing with the water protectors of Standing Rock, I think a great gesture in the right direction could consist of adopting a wholly new symbol, designed to do in effect what Obama proposed in response to calls to investigate the criminals in the Bush administration who committed torture & warrant-less wiretapping: to look forward, as opposed to looking backwards.

Below are my sources I used for this

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0K27oIJlAlA

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dred_Scott_v._Sandford

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Jackson

https://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10005162#

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/how-the-parties-got-their-animal-symbols/

https://indiancountrymedianetwork.com/history/people/indian-killer-andrew-jackson-deserves-top-spot-on-list-of-worst-us-presidents/

http://www.history.com/topics/native-american-history/trail-of-tears

https://www.biography.com/people/andrew-jackson-9350991

http://www.subzin.com/quotes/M18643d18b/George+Carlin%3A+Complaints+%26+Grievances/Bullshit%2C+fuck+you%2C+up+yours%2C+get+laid.