The Geauga County Fair (“geauga” being the Seneca word for “raccoon”) may be Ohio’s oldest county fair, but it’s otherwise not particularly well known. This year’s festivities, however, made national news as a raccoon (based on the pawprints left atop cakes) broke into the fairgrounds on August 31 and made a meal of seven of the elven best in show baked goods nominees out of about 1,500 baked goods products the animal had to choose from.
You can watch some hard hitting reporting on the burglary from Inside Edition below:
In response, the fair organizers put up wanted posters, although in an example of species profiling they used a generic picture of a raccoon versus one of the particular bandit(s) who engaged in the theft.
Late last week, Annapurna Interactive (makers of exactly zero games I’ve played), officially announced the game Donut County. You can see the reveal trailer for it below.
The game is a “physics puzzler,” which generally means freeform stoner time waster, the likes of Namco’s infamous Katamari Damacy games (this game even employs a similar art style.) In contrast to those games, where you need to attach things to your ball to progress, this one is based on dropping objects into a hole to grow it.
Of course, what got my attention was the focus on a raccoon as the unofficial mascot of the game. At the start of the video we get a glimpse of a raccoon hovering about with some drone-like attachments, there’s the raccoon narrator, and a raccoon on a scooter was even featured in a demo of the game back in 2015!
I’m looking forward to this title, if only because every now and then I enjoy zoning out and playing a game mindlessly. Usually this involves old school shmups, but since I live in Colorado I figure I should get more into pothead fare.
A raccoon has been spotted almost daily at Virginia Beach’s City Jail. No, he’s not an inmate! He was a stowaway on a supply shipment from Georgia. Ever since his arrival, the little guy has been wandering the grounds and making appearances at the window of the facility’s canteen (food supply storage) daily, begging for snacks. He apparently hasn’t yet penetrated the formidable structures, but the fact that he hasn’t left indicates he’s found adequate food and water. The employees at the jail, fond of his daily visitations, have taken to calling him–rather un-creatively–“Bandit.”
There are worse places to be stuck than Virginia Beach, even if it is the jail, if you can come and go as you please.
In case you didn’t know, and you shouldn’t, because knowing this would be weird: July is National Picnic Month! You know, that thing that sounds like a nice, wholesome activity to do with the family but is rarely worth the effort. Picnics and animals go together as well as peanut butter and jelly. The most famous combinations of the two are picnics paired with ants, and picnics paired with bears. Curse you, Yogi, you thieving scum! You’ve sullied the reputation of our national parks for the last time!
Dogs also tend to make an appearance at picnics. What’s more wholesome than a hilltop picnic while little Billy cavorts with Sergeant Pupper?
One animal that people often forget to expect with picnics is the raccoon. Cute and cuddly, these greedy little things will just walk right up and take your food, thinking it’s owed to them. Well, come on, they look so dang cute eating how could you deny giving them your food?
Take, for example, this pouncing procyon in Costa Roca who goes for someone’s bagged lunch?
Or this paddle boater in Florida who left her next meal on the front of her ride, ripe for the picking by a hungry critter.
Once you’ve gone through the trouble making the food, packing in, herding the family into a car and hauling them an hour or so to the most idyllic locations, don’t forget that you’re dining with nature, and you’d better have packed enough for everyone.
Generally, I don’t like to present stories here that involve raccoons and rabies. First, such stories are extremely common and so this blog would end up being rather repetitive. Second, such stories rarely end well for the raccoon. However, this week a couple of friends saw fit to share a story about a raccoon with rabies being killed and even I had to take notice of it–as did some other news sources–if only because of the story’s abundance of irony.
The Mainer in question, Rachel Borch, a vegetarian, went jogging in the woods of Hope, ME.
Shortly after realizing what a beautiful day it was, she was confront by a snarling, rabid raccoon on a narrow path.
The raccoon immediately attacked her, biting her on the thumb and staying latched to it as it began clawing at her.
As she struggled, her phone fell into a puddle. Noticing the water, Rachel immediately thrust the raccoon under the surface and held it in place until it died.
She then pulled out her thumb and ran off to get medical attention.
As she ran, she was worried that raccoon had not died and might still be chasing her. In her words: “It felt like Pet Semetary.” A reference to a novel written by prominent Maine resident, Stephen King.
Between the melodramatic prose of the article and little details included, writers at both Esquire, Daily Wire, and SB Nation were compelled to comment upon both the event itself and its coverage. The esquire commentary is especially impressive, working in an erudite reference to Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway and even giving significance to the bag the raccoon’s body was placed in. Peculiarly, none of them bothered to comment on the ironic twist of fate for the raccoon: that late-stage rabies causes a fear of water, which would be prophetic for this animal as it ended up drowning.
Truly, truth is stranger than fiction. And high art? That hides in the most unassuming of places.