In an unprecedented move that has left environmentalists clutching their organic hemp tote bags in despair, Project 2025, an initiative founded by a cadre of self-proclaimed “policy wizards” with an affinity for golf courses and coal mines, has set its sights on the bloated bureaucracy known as the Environmental Protection Agency, specifically in the illustrious Region 6, which covers Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico—home to both pancake-flat oil fields and the occasional family barbecue. "We're going to redefine the concept of environmental oversight," said Beckett B. Prowler, the newly appointed Regional Director of Influence (a snazzy title he earned after binge-watching several seasons of a political drama). “Instead of overseeing the environment, we plan to oversee the ‘horizontally challenged’ regulations that keep our polluters from polluting.” After a careful deliberation involving zero public input, Project 2025 has decreed its mission: dismantle regulations faster than a toddler demolishing a LEGO tower. Prowler, who claims to have “occasionally” read the Clean Air Act while looking for the Wi-Fi password in a corporate lounge, is pushing initiatives that would allow industries to puff smoke and spray glittery chemicals into the air without cumbersome permits. “After all, who needs regulations when you can have good old-fashioned capitalism?” he chortled, as he casually tossed an expired environmental impact report into a recycling bin—now a poorly disguised trash receptacle. The coalition has also rolled out a series of fun new slogans intended to resonate with the citizens of Region 6: “Clean Air? More Like Clean Square!” and “Toxicity Is the New Trend!” are already gaining traction on social media, particularly among users sporting “Make America Toxic Again” caps. Meanwhile, health experts and biologists have been invited to a closing ceremony they are not welcome to attend—in favor of a barbecue where livestock will be economically fried. Environmental activists are furious, of course, but Prowler encourages them to “lighten up.” “If you’re not fumigating, you’re not innovating!” he remarked, as he unveiled a plan to replace endangered species with reusable plastic wildlife that can thrive in any ecosystem—even those with high levels of smokestacks. In a true display of grassroots support, Region 6 is rapidly gaining new sponsors, including oil tycoons, fast-food magnates advocating for “faster” cheeseburger production, and a consortium of chemical plants that took a break from lobbying in order to throw a lavish fundraiser titled “Breathe Easy, Live Gritty.” As of now, sponsors are piling on promises to boost local economies while simultaneously providing jobs to skilled workers who will expertly design pollution contraptions ruled by whimsy, such as the “Compassionate Clear-Cut,” which allows aficionados to chop down trees with zero repercussions—as long as they post a heartfelt selfie with said tree before letting the chainsaws rev their engines. Critics are shaken, though Prowler reassures them that his “well-thought-out” blueprint is anything but shortsighted. “What’s a little smog among friends? Just think of it as a gentle reminder that life is fleeting, especially when our water supplies turn into an exciting game of ‘What Is This Color?’” In the end, Prowler promises a future where regulations are mere suggestions, and pollution is reframed as an “experience.” With a wide grin, he concluded, “We’re just looking for ways to breathe life into the stagnant and stagnant into the all-you-can-eat buffet of progress.” As the sun sets over Region 6, residents are left pondering: can choking on industry smoke be classified as a form of cardio? Only time—and a series of misguided initiatives—will tell.