F*ck the forest!

Longtime Department of the Interior employee Smokey the Bear’s remains were found in a heavily burned out area of Acadia National Park in Northeast Maine yesterday, ending a week-long search for his body.

“This is a sad day for all of us” said a rescuer.

We had hoped that Smokey somehow survived. I mean he was a professional firefighter. Somehow. He could have used his skills to dig a hole or find a cave. I guess the smoke and the flames were too much for him. I mean we assume it’s his body. It’s burned beyond recognition so they’ll have to ship it back to a lab for DNA testing but we found his “Smokey the Bear” hat and shovel next to the body. So, yeah it’s probably him.

Smokey was last seen entering the Park when the forest fires first started.

“I put out fires. I’m Smokey. That’s what I do. Besides contract work I mean” he told people.

His comment about contract work could be clue a to his death.

“Smokey had become bored with firefighting” said a friend.

He saw it as limiting him intellectually. He wanted to create something. While he considered his work fighting fires important he had lately come to the belief that it didn’t define him. That’s when he started writing poetry. He wasn’t very good frankly. He made Rod McKuen look good. But god bless him he kept writing. We supported him. That’s what friends do. I mean I wouldn’t buy his crap but I supported him.

Having given up on his dream of being a successful poet Smokey turned to computers.

Computers appealed to his nerdy side. He told me he enjoyed the solitude. Just sitting alone in his house working on his computers. He even bought a server and set it up. I visited him after he bought it. He was sitting in his chair and he pointed towards it and said “I paid extra for the Drac 5 firmware on this Dell.”  He was proud of that. He also sent me to a store to pick up a VGA cable so he could connect the server’s monitor.

Smokey hoped to become a network engineer and began studying for his Linux Certification.

Let’s just say that was as successful as his poetry. He took the test three times before he died and each time failed. He would complain to me “They put these stupid questions on the test that have no relevance.” I sympathized. Really I did. Anything to keep him from writing more poetry.

Concentrating on his certification Smokey let his firefighting skills lapse.

I told him once he should wear some protective equipment or something. At least carry a walkie talkie and GPS so he could be found in case of trouble. Do you know what he did? He shit on me and stole my picnic basket. I loved the guy but he could be a real asshole sometimes.

Since Smokey had no living relatives his body will be cremated. His friends are asking that donations be made in his name to the Rod McKuen Foundation for Bad Poetry.

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