In a stunning display of finger-pointing and fervent deflection, delegates at COP29, the world's premier climate conference, successfully dedicated an entire week to blaming each other for the ongoing climate crisis while the planet continued its dramatic descent into a climate apocalypse. As wildfires raged, polar ice caps melted, and ocean levels crept higher, world leaders congregated in an air-conditioned convention center, engaging in what has been termed "the most intense blame game since the last COP gathering." The event kicked off with an opening ceremony that invoked the spirit of global unity through an avalanche of hot air. Leaders adorned in bespoke suits took to the stage to deliver passionate speeches about the dire need for action—before promptly retreating to the lobby for a networking session featuring organic hors d'oeuvres and artisanal water sourced from the last remaining glaciers. "It's all about collective accountability," fumed one frustrated delegate from a drought-stricken nation, who preferred to remain anonymous to avoid being dragged into a follow-up dialogue about responsibility. "I mean, of course, we have a part to play, but have you seen the carbon footprint of those SUVs parked outside? I heard they ran on the tears of endangered animals!" Meanwhile, representatives from industrialized countries took turns blaming developing nations for their lack of progress on renewable energy. "Listen, we can’t save the planet if they keep using coal for everything," one Western leader quipped, casually sipping an environmentally-unfriendly single-use plastic cocktail. The irony, of course, was lost in the celebratory atmosphere of the cocktail-laden event. A weekly highlight was the intermission known as “Who's Offending Nature Now?” where nations competed to present the most outrageous environmental faux pas committed by their opponents. By the end of the conference, it was determined that the "Best in Blame" award went to a nation that once built a golf course on a rainforest, presenting a trophy made entirely from recycled paper. Climate activists outside the convention center, equipped with signs reading “Talk Less, Act More,” accidentally stumbled into the thriving catering area and had their demands drowned out by laughter and clinking glasses. Meanwhile, inside, organizers proudly introduced new initiatives, including "Carbon Credit Karaoke," encouraging delegates to sing their regrets over an amusingly low-key environmental record—all while the climate continued to disregard their concerns like an ignored politician. As COP29 handed over the reins to COP30, leaders dutifully expressed hope for the next gathering. “If we can blame harder, who knows what we might achieve?” said one delegate, prompting chuckles from their peers and a spontaneous standing ovation among those who felt they had truly outdone their masters in the art of deflection. And so, with crisis barely averted until the next round of finger-pointing, the delegates packed their bags, leaving a conferential legacy of stalled promises, an overflowing fridge of untouched plan documents, and the singular comfort that as long as pointing fingers was on the agenda, no one would have to roll up their sleeves and do the actual work. The world, it seemed, could continue to burn—for the next conference, that is.