In a groundbreaking move that has left environmentalists and beachfront property owners alike scratching their heads, South Carolina has officially adopted the concept of "Managed Retreat," a sophisticated euphemism for packing up beach towels and waving goodbye to the coast. The state’s new policy, noted for its creativity, has rolled out plans for an organized exodus from the picturesque shores that once drew millions for sunbathing, surfing, and the occasional encounter with the local alligator. "Why fight the tides of climate change when you can just turn your back and stroll away?" mused the governor in a recent press conference, standing firmly in front of a charming poster showcasing an idyllic deserted beachfront. "Nothing says resilience like recognizing defeat and moving your beach chairs inland." The plan, which experts assure us is definitely very serious and not just the embodiment of a long denim-clad nap, seeks to encourage residents in vulnerable coastal areas to abandon their homes in favor of, well, less vulnerable places. A state-funded “Relocation Raffle” will give participants a chance to win a free move, which is a steal if you don’t count the homes, memories, and proximity to that lovely sea breeze being thrown into the metaphorical dumpster. Charleston resident and local podiatrist Mabel Jenkins is torn between anticipation and dread. “I’ve lived in this beach house for 25 years,” she lamented, holding her cat, Fluffy, who was busy knocking seashells off a coffee table. “But if the ocean wants my fondest memories, I guess I’ll just have to let ‘er have ‘em.” Jenkins has taken to Instagram with her daily countdown to the inevitable, hashtagging it #SandyFarewells. As part of the Managed Retreat strategy, the state is also encouraging ill-fated beachfront developments to be turned into scenic ghost towns. Real estate investors are ecstatic, claiming that dreamy dilapidation will make for great Instagram opportunities, a hit in the future tourism market that they are confidently dubbing “Post-Apocalyptic Vacations.” Construction workers in Myrtle Beach who were previously employed building sea walls have taken to creating art installations out of leftover materials, dubbing themselves the "Dunes of Despair Collective." Their first project, “Watching the Waves Come In,” is an ironic take on the futility of coastal protection and is expected to draw tons of art aficionados... or at least, a few bewildered tourists looking for a trendy selfie spot. The local shrimping industry is doing its best to adapt as well; an entrepreneurial group has launched "Shrimp Souvenirs,” plastic-coated crustaceans that celebrate the memory of seafood dining along the shoreline. "You can almost taste the ocean," they rave, while winking at customers who may or may not be aware that irony comes with a price tag. Meanwhile, climate change deniers have hit back with an alternative proposal: “Managed Hot Tub,” suggesting that the state embrace the rising sea levels by replacing beaches with lavish portable spas. "Who needs to escape the water when you can soak in it?" they proudly proclaim, presenting their flyer at a local bar over beers and bravado. As South Carolina leads the charge into the brave new world of abandonment, one thing remains clear: While the sun may ultimately set on those beautiful shores, at least there's a potential for a booming inland real estate market – as long as residents can find a way to turn their beach homes into trendy coffee shops. And if you think about it, isn’t that exactly what’s needed in this age of climate optimism? A heartwarming retreat into bitterness, served with a side of irony and a dash of ocean salt.