When I first saw Pascin’s “Claudine at Rest,” when I first read Roethke’s line “What’s madness… When I first saw Pascin’s “Claudine at Rest,” when I first read Roethke’s line “What’s madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance,” when I first heard “Spoonful” pour out of Howlin’ Wolf æ these were moments of connection. Such moments make art personal, intimate. Yet, it is not to these works that I turn when I feel the emptiness of the world pressing in on me.

There exists a form of art that’s penetrated my soul far more deeply than has poetry or painting or even pre-pubescent punk: It’s the cane I lean on, the net beneath me, the lap I cry into, the cup of tea always warm and waiting through even the fiercest blizzard. The instances of this form are the last miracles still trying to dance in the pathologically motionless modern world. These miracles are called cartoons.

Just as the word “music” is forced to span the distance between Beethoven and Falco, the term “cartoon” contains too many categories and levels of quality for one word to properly convey the significance and possibility the field offers.

“Looney Toons” will be forever with us because of the characters’ dedication to their art. Their willingness to suffer physical trauma so that the show might continue and so that we might be entertained, will be remembered long after the last anvil is dropped on the head of the last too-curious toddler.

A lot of history combining innovation and imported cartooning excellence exists between “Looney Toons” and the cartoon that most influenced me as a child. Two fine examples of that developmental period deserve praise and recognition beyond even that due the Energizer Bunny.

Both “Voltron” and “Transformers” reached through impure screens and showed children the value of teamwork, heroics and bonding with the most powerful robots around. For all that, they were merely forerunners of true greatness.

There are some lessons a boy should learn from his father, or perhaps an older brother: shaving, shooting rabid domestic animals, building fires. Everything else a male child needs to know he can, and should, learn from “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

Watching the show is a developmental journey unto itself. One is forced to identify with a turtle. Next, there’s the turtles’ ninja lifestyle to think about. Obviously, it would be fantastic to be teenage, mutant and living in the sewers, but ninja training carries with it a deep burden that cannot be ignored.

Every fan is forced to search his soul: How long can he swing his katana at mutated villains before turning it on himself? The original show was a revelation. There have been many renaissances, but none so timely or so poignant as that first series.

New shows like “Teen Titans” carry on the Turtles’ legacy of vital life lessons mixed with well-timed humor. However, it’s another tradition that’s been expressed in its ultimate form these last few years.

“Scooby-Doo” pioneered using seemingly adorable characters to express unpopular, even borderline subversive, opinions. A van full of stoners and homosexuals solves problems that baffle and terrify the straight and square population. The humor is undeniable and its message is still sorely needed.

Enter “Family Guy.” There are many cartoons that have come before it and co-exist with it. While arguments can be made about which is funnier, “Family Guy” is more than just amusing. It’s the culmination of all cartooning and cultural development to date, yet its reception has not been completely welcoming.

Appreciation for all art grows with knowledge of its place in history and understanding of its components. Some art would be obscene or utterly without value if it had been created out of context.

Matricidal infants, dogs craving relations with human women, pope-napping, evil monkeys and racist police vans would be offensive without the sensitivity and cartoon-watching skills required to appreciate the collage of spiritual renewal Seth McFarlane has created.

There are some who not only fail to connect to the show, but actually stand against it. Those who find the show completely unacceptable for all audiences are beyond salvation. Those who feel “Family Guy” isn’t acceptable viewing material for children might have a point.

Children must earn the right to watch “Family Guy” by logging hours learning cartoon history and general culture. Whether a parent feels the show’s material is appropriate for a 10-year-old or not, he’d be too young to watch the show without his ignorance defiling it.

While being doomed to repeat cartoon history would hardly be a horrible fate, stumbling into the future blindly would. We have a reasonably new tradition entrusted to us: Protect our cartoon heritage.

Lecture younger siblings, alert parents before they buy DVDs for their children and forbid your own kids to view material they’re not ready for, lest that material become less in the world’s eyes than it truly is.

Tell Zak Sharif who your favorite Ninja Turtle is by e-mailing him at [email protected].