He’s the kind of crazy we can trust!

Raccoon 2016!

The post Politics appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

I don’t like to get too political. But I’m feeling very much removed from the political process right now. We’ve become far too divisive. Far too extreme. We’ve stopped talking about ideas and instead focused on attacks, celebrity,  and sensationalism. It feels like people are so closed off they won’t listen to ideas anymore. People are too focused on their “team” winning.

This isn’t a game though. This is the future of our country. And last I checked, we were all on the same team.

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Ok. It’s true. I admit it. I AM trying to take over the world.

We’re getting there. Slowly but surely. One cartoon at a time I’m carefully gaining territory, until finally that fateful and glorious day will arrive and I will rule mightily from my cartoon-raccoon empire. HA! HAHAHAHAHAHAA!!

But don’t worry. I will be a kind and just ruler. I will rule over you all with dignity and grace. You will find yourselves wondering why you didn’t all elect me to be your supreme ruler eons ago. And I will make the world so much better with my policies.

Here’s just a few:

• We won’t need to pay so many taxes because you won’t have to pay so many high government salaries. Just mine. And mine is pretty reasonable compared to the sums of all those politicians. Just sayin’.

• Opening Day for baseball will be a world holiday. Duh.

• I will save the Twinkies. But you are only allowed to buy them if you walk to the store. Fair and just.

• Veronica Mars will be immediately brought back to regular television. I’m also going to bring back Firefly, The Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin, Chuck, and while we’re at it, Lois and Clark, The New Adventures of Superman. Two and a Half Men will be immediately cancelled. Because we’re better than that. We’re all better than that.

• I will expedite the completion and mass production of driver-less vehicles.

• I will outlaw the usage of “LOL.”

• Minors will only be allowed internet access via 56 Kbps dial up modem. Because quite frankly, we’re all tried of the stupid overly dramatic teenage crud you post online all the time.

• Michael Bay will be exiled to a remote island off the coast of Greenland. For he must pay for his sins.

• No more reality TV. Ever.

• I will protect the Guam Kingfisher.

• Raw milk will once again be available at every corner grocery store.

• Finally, I will abolish the biannual changing of the clocks. Daylight savings time will be the new standard time all year long baby. That’s the way I roll.

You, my loyal and trusted peasants, will all learn to love me as I rule over you with wisdom and cartoon goodness. I will usher in a brand new era of peace, longevity, and quality television. You’re welcome. Long live Matt, supreme ruler.

The post Maybe appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

It’s Election Day!!! So I put this week’s comic strip up a day early. I figured you could all use a little extra laughter today. Because the way I figure it, about half of you are going to be depressed by the end of the day.

But not me. Because I’m totally going to go start my OWN country. One with cookies for currency and plenty of affordable housing. Because my country is cool like that. We’ll call it: “Mattopia.” And it will be awesome. You will all beg me to live there. And I might let you. If you’re lucky. Whatever happens this Election Day, remember that we’re all people, even if we disagree on different issues. And if you promise to play nice, you might just be granted citizenship in Mattopia. You have to fill out an application first though. And promise to abide by the cookie tax.

Trust me. It’s worth it.

The post Election Day appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

Fortune box 5 is here! And just in time for Election Day!! What futures await you?? Click and find out!!

The post Get Your Political Fortune!! appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

I have a self-imposed PG rating over here at Raccoon Toons. I try to keep things pretty light and user friendly to anyone who might be visiting the site. You will never find swearing for example, in one of my comic strips or cartoons. Nor will you find any form of substance abuse, nudity, or excessive violence. Heck, I won’t even venture much into politics. Occasionally I might try to tell a specific story or prove a point. And occasionally you might find some adolescent-teenage-boy humor like the comic strip above. But for the most part my aim is to be able to appeal to a wide audience of different ages and backgrounds, and to have something that I could share with my future children someday (assuming that hot little future wife of mine quits dragging her feet and finally shows up).

I believe in artistic expression, and this little world that I have created is very much an expression of who I am. I am grateful that today’s technology has provided a platform that allows me to share it with so many people. Before the tech-boom growing up, I never imagined something like this could be possible. It really is amazing.

As such, I believe it is important that we defend the Internet to keep it as rich a form of expression as it is. True, there are times when it feels very much like the wild West— a land without laws or enforcers, a land of danger. But it is also a world of artistry and passion and creative genius. Where people like me can live out our childhood fantasies and make movies, cartoons, and comic strips and share them with the world. We cannot allow it to be stifled or controlled by those who would attempt to govern or hinder it. Doing so would be detrimental to us all.

And so I implore all of you to take a moment to consider the bills that US lawmakers are currently deliberating on. If you feel the same way about the Internet as I do, then I encourage you to make your voice heard. Take a few seconds to email your state representative, or sign a petition. Let’s keep freedom of expression alive.

The post Censorship appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

The best way is the sneaky way.

Once upon a time, in a faraway distant land we like to call high school, I sat at a desk in an American History class. But this wasn’t just any desk, oh no. This wasn’t some crude plastic chair that was bolted to one square foot of particle board. This was a real desk. A REAL desk. And it was glorious.

You see, the class was so full of young bright-eyed students eager and willing to learn, that the teacher had run out of those cruddy desks that you can barely fit into. You know the ones I mean. A piece of wood stuck to a hard, cold chair specifically designed to be as uncomfortable as possible to poor, overworked high school students.  And so with a limited number of “chairs” (if they can indeed be called chairs), my teacher somewhat apologetically, placed me at a table in the corner of the room.

And it was wonderful. Seriously. I loved my desk like no student has ever loved a desk before. And why shouldn’t I?? I got to sit in the back. By the window. With a padded chair. I sprawled all of my belongings across my domain and still had enough room to write, read, and rest my arms. I was more attentive. I was happier. My 1st period History class was all of a sudden the highlight of my day. I could actually feel myself getting smarter by the minute! And as if that wasn’t enough, my teacher was still one more seat short. And so I was assigned to share my desk…with the prettiest girl in my History class. I loved that desk. I loved that desk, oh so much.

Life was good. The educational system was finally working. My historical knowledge of the Americas was reaching new bounds. I was the Alex Trebek of my classroom. The cool breeze from my window kept me alert and ready to elaborate on various topics from the  mid 19th century. And in a completely unrelated note, my luxurious padded chair was slowly inching its way closer and closer to the pretty brunette next to me.

And then one day, the unthinkable occurred. I arrived to my morning History class, naturally eager to make the most of the educational opportunities that lay before me, only to discover the awful truth… My desk had been replaced.

I stared at the two abominations that stood in its place. Two plastic chairs, each welded to a small piece of wood. The brainchild of some sinister educator looking to cram more students into a single class room, and cut costs on large beautiful tables and cotton filled seats that were meant to cushion my buttocks. -sniff-

I immediately demanded an explanation from my teacher. He smiled a devilish grin, and laughed a devilish laugh.

“Your desk is GONE!” he said to me as he mocked my pain…my sorrow…my heartache. “Deal with it!”

I could not, and would not “deal with it.” For too long I had reaped the rewards of a desk built for two and a warm comfy seat cushion. I began plotting a scheme so clever and so crafty that I was sure that if the US government were to ever hear about it, they would immediately seek my services for the CIA. I would get my desk back. Oh yes. It would be mine.

My plan began in simple stages. After school, I staked out the classroom of my History teacher until he left for the day. Then I promptly found one of our school janitors. I explained to him that I had left a book inside the classroom, which I needed to recover. He unlocked the door, and let me in. A friend distracted the janitor while I quickly took my table which now sat against the wall gathering dust, and restored it to its rightful place. Success!! The next morning my teacher was astounded to find me (and the pretty brunette) sitting comfortably, once again at our table.

My teacher was not one to give up easily however. It only took a day before he had removed my heavenly desk away from me. He smiled at me as I found myself once again regulated to a tiny blue seat imprisoned by the bars of metal holding the slab of particle board that was to be my “desk.”

“Deal with it,” he said, laughing at my misfortune. “And don’t go asking the janitor for help, because I’ve told him not to let you in.”

Curses! My plan was foiled! But I could not be stopped. I had seen Heaven, and in that Heaven there was a wonderful, glorious desk with a visage that shone like the trumpet of Gabriel himself. And I was making headway with that brunette, dang-it!

The solution struck me as I gazed solemnly outside my window. Yes! The window! If I could somehow manage a way to keep the window from being locked at the end of the day, I could climb in and retrieve my desk thus reuniting myself with my soft chair, with higher learning, and with the pretty brunette who was already in the habit of letting me use her binder paper.

I am not going to disclose here how one prevents a window from being locked for the night. In fact, I should probably state here that this whole story is really just a made up figment of my imagination. Really. Honest. I never had a classy desk…Um.. In fact…I never had a high school. Yeah…that’s right. I don’t even know what history is. And there’s no “Deep Throat” anywhere who can tell you otherwise. But hypothetically speaking in this imaginative narrative of mine, if one WAS to prevent certain windows from being locked for the night, one could do so with just two or three pennies placed in the proper locations. Or so I’m told. I really have no idea. Because I’ve never tried it.

Regardless, my teacher was once again astonished to find me in the morning, once again sitting comfortably at my big luscious table while flirting with the brunette beside me.

This game went on for several weeks. My teacher would move my desk away from me. And the following day it would magically reappear in the proper place. He couldn’t figure it out. He had literally talked with the school janitor dozens of times, repeatedly being assured that I was not being let into the classroom after hours to make the switch. He was completely baffled.

At this moment, I may have become somewhat overconfident. I may have begun bragging to my teacher that “my desk would always find me” and there was nothing he could do about it. I may have convinced myself that I was Ferris Beuller, Zack Morris, and Parker Lewis all rolled into one. I also may have hid a “Baywatch” poster of Pamela Anderson on his world map which he later discovered while in the middle of teaching 6th period. I may have. I’m not at liberty to say.

And so, it was really a matter of time before the inevitable happened. I arrived to school, and my desk was once again missing. I looked all around the classroom, but it wasn’t pushed against the wall, or buried under some papers by the cabinet as it had been so many times before.

“It’s gone,” said my teacher. “It’s over. You’re never going to see your desk again.”

“Where is it!?” I retorted. “What have you done with my desk?!?!”

“It’s gone forever!!” cackled my teacher. “Deal with it!”

My blood boiled at this injustice. “This isn’t right!! Where is my desk?!?!”

“Deal with it!”

I was beginning to panic. What if he had it thrown away?? Would he do such a thing? It was such a nice table! I tried to appeal to his sense of compassion. “What am I supposed to do?? How would you feel if your desk suddenly disappeared??”

“I’D DEAL WITH IT!” came the response.

And that was all I needed to hear. Those words lit a fire inside me that simply would not be squelched. I would have my desk back. And no one, not even my History teacher would stop me.

For two hours after school that day, I scoured the campus for my desk. I enlisted the help of a trusted friend and we checked every classroom. Literally. Every classroom. We checked the back parking lot, and looked in garbage piles. Finally, when I was beginning to feel that all hope was lost, we found my desk, tucked away between a fence and a dumpster. My teacher had done the unthinkable. He had thrown out my desk. He had attempted desk-genocide.

My righteous indignation was fueled to no end. I would have my revenge.

And so, late that very night under the cover of darkness, I [hypothetically] maneuvered my way into the classroom one final time. I was not however, there to return my desk to its rightful location. Not this time. Not after what he did. I would not stand idly by while he removed my desk and had it thrust into the dumpster like some common piece of garbage. This wasn’t about the comfy chair, the massive writing space, or even the pretty brunette. Not anymore. This was a matter of principal. I needed to send a message.

I stood there in the middle of the night (hypothetically), staring at the empty chairs and desks before me. I marched to the front of the classroom. Under a stack of papers, my teacher’s desk called to me like a beacon in the night. I knew what I had to do. There was no turning back now.

The next morning, my teacher walked into his classroom to find his papers stacked neatly on the floor, and his large, beautiful desk missing. In its place was a dirty, broken, tiny, wobbly little chair/desk hybrid from the early 70′s that I had found in the dumpster out back. Scribbled on the dirty wooden writing surface were the words, “DEAL WITH IT!”

I had not yet arrived to school when this particular discovery was made. And I am so very glad that I had not. What happened at this point, I only know from third hand accounts. There was an outburst of sorts. And when I reached my classroom, there was the broken little desk from the 70′s, lying overturned in the hallway; the victim of my teacher’s outrage.

I walked into my classroom. My teacher sat quietly in the corner with his head in his hands. I approached him carefully. My moment of victory was quickly becoming a moment that I did not want to savor. He couldn’t speak. He was shaking. He was scared. He was broken. Holy crap…I had broken my teacher! What had I done?!? He was my FAVORITE teacher and I had broken him!! Instantly I regretted our cat and mouse game and felt ashamed for all of my high school-ish bravado. Quietly I apologized with all sincerity.

Without raising his eyes, he quietly stuttered, “I-I- I just need my desk.”

instantly I sprung into action. I ran to the empty classroom in which I had hidden my teacher’s table. Utilizing the help of a student passing by, we carried the desk back to my teacher and placed it in front of the class. I picked up his papers and tried my best to put them back as they had been before my desk-stealing transgression.

By this time, the bell had rung, and students were in their seats wondering what was going on. My teacher picked himself up, and began instructing us in the day’s lesson. I sat in my little plastic chair (my desk was safely hidden away at the other end of campus where I could love it forever and always) and nervously tried to sort through what had just transpired. At the end of the period, the students filtered out of the classroom, until only my teacher and I remained.

I thought for sure I was in the greatest trouble of my young life. I had taken things too far. I had done wrong. I had broken the law. And most importantly, I had pushed a good man to his limits and ignited a wrath in him that frightened and terrified us both. I approached him humbly. I had no idea what to say or where to begin. But before I even had a chance to say a word, he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” his voiced trembled.

Wait…what??? I had just driven this good teacher, this good man, to sheer madness, and he was apologizing to ME?!?! I immediately tried to beg forgiveness, placing on myself blame, punishment, anything so that he would know how sorry I was, and how much I really looked up to him as a teacher.

The conversation the two of us had from that point on was personal, and so I will not disclose it here in this writing. But suffice it to say, I learned more about my teacher and his character than I ever knew before. I learned what his life was like. I learned how much he cared about his work and his students. I learned who this good man was. I learned.

My teacher and I had a truce for the rest of the year. I would no longer make him the target of my teenage pranks, but my experience that day left me with a commanding love and admiration for this man that could never have been achieved by my silly cat and mouse game alone. I remain grateful for that teaching moment, and the lesson I received that day.

My desk remained safely hidden behind a bush for the rest of the school year. I said hello to it everyday as I passed by. But as I grew older I finally came to realize that it wasn’t the desk that I loved, or the soft cushy chair, or even the pretty brunette girl who sat next to me. It was the relationship with my teacher I loved, and his devotion towards his craft and his students. I’m glad he finally taught me that lesson.

The post I Am Not A Crook appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

I do feel bad for those security agents sometimes. I mean, they’re not the ones making the rules. And I’m pretty sure they don’t really want to get all handsy with me anyway. At least…I don’t think so…

The “Get-Yourself-in-a-Comic-Strip” contest is officially over! I want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who participated and shared their favorite Raccoon Toons comic strips with their friends. It was a huge success for me, as January had more traffic to the site than ever before! In addition to that, it was really fun for me to see which comic strips were selected as people’s favorites.

There were MANY people who took part in the contest but only one could emerge victorious. At first I thought it might be fun to put all of you in some type of caged-ring to fight to the death with only the victor remaining to gather the spoils of being featured in a comic strip. Turns out that cage matches are actually kind of expensive to put together though, and I was too lazy anyway.

So a winner among the contestants was chosen completely at random using one of those fancy random number generator things. You all had an equal chance of winning. And for all of you who didn’t win, don’t fret, there will be future promotions and chances to get yourself into the world of Raccoon Toons in the future. So hang on to those lucky pennies.

And now the winner of the Get-Yourself-into-a-Comic-Strip contest is………………..!!!

-drumroll-

Congratulations to Gabriel Brethauer of Pineville, Arkansas! You will be featured in an upcoming Raccoon Toons comic strip, so stay tuned!!

The post Excuse Me?? appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

You know the feeling all too well. You’re patiently waiting in line at the airport. You’re caught in a sea of people. Being corralled like so much mindless cattle. You made all the proper preparations. You didn’t pack your broadsword in your carry on. You don’t have any “liquids of death” or “nail clippers of doom.” You even wore your easily removable shoes that don’t contain weapons of mass destruction. You were so ready for this checkpoint. But the repetitive sound of gray monotone plastic bins stacking and re-stacking is slowly wearing you down. It’s sucking your will to live.

You arrive at the moment of truth. You’re no amateur, you’ve got the system down. Shoes, belt, pockets… Only a few more minutes of this charade and you can go sit by your gate for the next hour or two and make fun of other travelers with your clever inner monologues while you rock out to your iPod. But then, it happens. A large overweight TSA agent approaches you. You’ve been randomly selected.

There are really only a few ways you could interpret this “random” selection. You may choose from any of the following:

1. They think you are a terrorist. They’re on to you. That sweet innocent traveler act isn’t fooling anybody. Your shifty eyes must’ve given you away. Blast! It’s only a matter of time before they discover your shocks with the 3-foot collapsible machetes in them!! Should’ve taken the train you America hating Nazi!!

2. They don’t think you’re a terrorist. But they do think you’re hot, and they’re looking for a way to keep the eye candy around a little while longer. Because that’s what you are: sweet, sweet, delicious eye candy. I suppose you could take it as a compliment. Just remember that when they ask you to step into the image scanning machine, or assume the position for your pat down. What’s that you say? You’re sure they will be very professional when they’re sliding their hands up your crotch? Who are you kidding? We both know what’s going on in their heads. I’m a guy. I know how guys think. Should’ve taken the train you sweet, sweet temptress of the terminal!

3. You were selected randomly by some sort of machine, and you are just really unlucky. You poor loser. You can’t even win a game of rock-paper-scissors, let alone avoid being randomly selected for additional security procedures. At least you can take some comfort in knowing that our crack-shot airport security team is pulling a few random people out of line… Y’know, because they can’t seem to identify the loads of explosives under the pants of the guy ahead of you… I suppose you could’ve taken the train, but you’re so unlucky that someone would have placed a penny on your track causing you to derail and die a horrible  death by “exploding into a FIREBALL!!”  …you unlucky loser.

I should note here that I’m not in favor of “profiling.” What I am in favor of is some well trained professionals who aren’t making minimum wage, with real experience who can identify people acting and behaving suspiciously. But hey, what do I know? I’m just a guy who likes to take the train.

The post Randomly Selected appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

I’m not going to repeat yesterday’s rant about the TSA’s security measures. But I will say that I’d probably complain about them a lot less if I got a pretty TSA agent to do my pat-down. Just sayin’.

………………………………

You still have a chance to be featured in an upcoming Raccoon Toons comic strip! The official rules are here, but it’s really very simple:

1. Like the site.

2. Share your favorite comic strip from the site with people who are awesome.

3. Tell me you shared. Leave a comment, send an email, whatever.

4. Eat a cookie.

SO easy!! Make sure you tell me that you shared so I can get your name down. Leave a comment here or on the facebook page, send me an email (matt at raccoontoons.com). Just let me know SOMEHOW that you shared or I won’t know to enter you into the drawing. One lucky winner will be selected at random and they WILL be drawn into an upcoming Raccoon Toons comic strip! You have until 12:29 am (California time) on February 1st. Good luck.

The post Private Screening appeared first on Raccoon Toons.