In a stunning turn of events, Southern Arizona—once the veritable goldmine of mining enthusiasts and economic optimism—has embraced a fresh new narrative: an all-out rebellion against its beloved copper mines. Residents, tired of the pesky little problems of pollution and social disparity, have decided that it's high time to swap pickaxes for picket signs in a show of unity against the very industries that fed them. Local resident and self-declared environmentalist, Chet "The Copper King" Baxter, who has spent a good portion of his life proudly working in the mines, has now become a fervent advocate for mine-dissolution. “I mean, who needs jobs when you can have a healthy planet?” he exclaimed, while clad in a t-shirt that reads "Save the Earth, Shut Down Our Economy!" His newfound mission to convert the mines into eco-parks is commendable, particularly considering that Baxter's annual salary from the mine could buy a decade’s worth of organic kale for the entire county. In a bid to embrace this newfound irony, local opposition group “Mines Out, Greens In” has launched a series of large-scale protests featuring colorful slogans like “Digging the Earth? No Thanks!” and “Copper Kills!” which have received rave reviews from anyone who appreciates a good pun. Their social media campaign is going even better, embracing the hashtag #MineFreeSince2023, which has only confused everyone over thirty who remembers the large, flashing "Help Wanted" signs that adorned local businesses in the mining boom days. In response to these protests, mining executives have opted for a more engaging approach, inviting community members for “Family Fun Days” at the mines. The events feature cotton candy, a petting zoo, and a tour demonstrating how modern mining practices are safer than ever—blasting contaminants into the air is now performed with style! However, community members have largely decided that the only thing safer than the mines is, understandably, staying far, far away from them. Meanwhile, Arizona’s tourism industry has reported a sharp decline in visitors eager to witness the spectacular view of the mines that once drew thousands. "I just don’t get it," said local hotelier Ron Midas, glancing at half-empty parking lots. "I thought the ‘Before and After’ of our industry was a selling point? Now I have to pander to an eco-obsessed clientele who have declared the term 'sustainable mining' as overtly oxymoronic. Who do I appeal to now? The goats?” Despite the comedic absurdity of it all, there is an underlying tension in the community. Students at the local high school have traded in their aspirations of becoming geologists, miners, or engineers for more noble pursuits such as vegan activism and community gardening. The youth movement known as “Gen Z for Zero," is now drafting ambitious plans to fill the massive pits of the mines with soil, turning them into multi-use recreational lakes for paddleboarding and drowning out the sounds of angry parent meetings. For their part, veterans of the mining industry have taken the new war cry of the people with a grain of salt, insisting that perhaps a few years of fruitless activism against their livelihoods might teach the youth of today some real-world resilience. “Maybe they’ll come crawling back when they need jobs,” chuckled veteran miner and community wisecracker, Bill "The Pickaxe Preacher" Johnson. “But until then, good luck with your microbrews and kombucha sales.” As the political climate continues to shift like sand under the weight of ironic rebellion, one thing remains certain: Southern Arizona may have successfully transitioned from exacerbating natural resources to advocating for environmental salvation, but they seem blissfully unaware that empty mine shafts don’t pay the bills. After all, who needs copper when you can have a healthy community suffering in silence?