Campus celebrity raccoon, Trash Panda, is officially graduating with the Class of 2026 this May, and he’s getting an honorary degree in a new major deemed “Dumpster Economics” with a minor called “Chaos.”
Oh, and he can talk. Apparently.
Recently, there has been a spike in interest from students wanting to declare the same major. The Registrar’s Office has had to release a statement clarifying that this was only an honorary program for raccoons who have demonstrated at least four years of consistent campus presence and stealing food from the dumpsters.
Trash Panda, who has been a figure on campus since fall 2022, has attended more classes than an estimated 49% of students. Multiple witnesses report seeing him in the back of Introduction to Philosophy (where he had allegedly knocked over a trash can during a discussion he did not agree with), multiple 8 AM organic chemistry lectures, and literally every single outdoor event where food was present, including one funeral.
“He has perfect attendance,” said one junior. “I’ve seen him at the library during finals week at like, 3 AM, just absolutely destroying a half-empty bag of Doritos. Meanwhile, I haven’t seen my actual roommate in probably a week. But I see him all the time.”
The raccoon’s academic journey began four years ago when he was first spotted emerging from a dumpster behind the Commons wearing what appeared to be a stolen lanyard, supposedly trying to use it to enter one of the dining halls. Since then, he’s become kind of a campus legend, with over 12k followers on his unofficial Instagram account (@trashpanda.official), a dedicated fan page that also leaves him pizza crusts outside the science building every Friday.
A custom cap and gown has been commissioned in a xxxxx-small size. The cap will be secured with what the campus tailor described as “an unreasonable amount of elastic, faith, and possible duct tape.”
The student body president confirmed what graduates have already organized: a standing ovation for Trash Panda that will be louder than anything any of the prior presidents of the United States have ever received.
“It’s not personal,” one student commented. “It’s just that Trash Panda once stole an entire rotisserie chicken from the dining hall while maintaining direct eye contact with the cook. And honestly? That’s the kind of confidence we’re all looking for.”
When asked how he felt about graduating, Trash Panda paused mid-eating a thrown-away sandwich, looked up directly into our reporter’s eye, and said, “I didn’t even apply here. I just showed up, and everyone keeps giving me food. This is the greatest scam I’ve ever pulled, and I once convinced a birthday party I was a piñata. I got all the candy.”
He then stole the reporter’s notepad and disappeared into, concerningly, a heating vent.
