In an astounding twist worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy, the coal mining industry in Alabama is poised to dance joyfully upon the graves of logic and environmental protection, all while clutching a shiny new legal loophole like a prized trophy. With optimism that can only be rivaled by a toddler on a sugar high, local officials are throwing caution to the wind, staring into the abyss of a coal mine revival, and proclaiming, “What could possibly go wrong?” It all began when the state discovered that the coal seam running beneath the picturesque small towns of Boggs Hollow and Coalville was not just any old hunk of rock and carbon. No, sir! This wasn’t just any coal—this was an exciting new blend of “American Opportunity” infused with “Job Creation.” Armed with this revelation, politicians have rallied behind a plan that lovingly embraces at least five decades of coal mining practices collectively described as “totally safe, we swear!” The shining beacon of hope, it turns out, is a legal loophole so wide that it could easily accommodate an entire herd of elephants, or, more accurately, an infinite number of coal trucks skidding off into the sunset. Town mayor Reginald Dustbucket, whose family has a longstanding tradition of mining-related wealth (not that we’re suggesting a thing!), stated, “If we can extract a few more years of ‘black gold’ for our struggling economy, we might just be able to afford those new traffic cones we always wanted!” Contrary to what any rational person would assume, environmentalists have been quietly shaking their heads, clutching their eco-friendly, sustainably sourced lattes. Evidence has shown that coal mining leads to localized devastation, airborne particulates, and the kind of toxic sludge that makes the average household cleaning product look like a refreshing cucumber-infused water. Yet, the Coalition for Atmospheric Mistreatment, a newly formed lobby group comprised of coal executives and enthusiastic bingo night attendees, has assured the community that yes, *as always,* they will be fine—trust them. Local residents are torn, of course. Some claim to feel the warm and comfy embrace of nostalgia, reminiscing about the good old days when coal dust settled delicately on the porch furniture like fairy dust. “I miss seeing those lovely clouds of black, billowing smoke,” lamented lifelong resident Betty Carbon. “They added character to the landscape! Plus, I heard it’s great for my complexion.” On the other hand, there are whispers from a small band of hopeful environmentalists who dared to suggest alternatives like solar and wind energy. “But those don’t come with 100-foot-tall smokestacks,” rebutted Dustbucket, “And where’s the fun in that? Besides, what would happen to our local bingo nights then?” As the dust settles on this gamble for profit, Alabama’s citizens prepare to vote on whether their future is to be brightened by green energy or dimmed by blackened skies. It seems fitting that, in a world teetering on the brink of climate disaster, Alabama’s coal mine revival offers yet another chance for communities to collectively screw themselves while simultaneously clapping for more profits. After all, isn’t profit the most beautiful thing of all?