In a groundbreaking development that has environmentalists scratching their heads and endangering species likely scratching their non-existent heads, the Trump administration has introduced a revolutionary approach to the Endangered Species Act: the concept of "harm." No longer will the fate of endangered species hinge on pesky details like habitat destruction, pollution, or climate change. Instead, officials will now narrowly define what "harm" actually means, and more importantly, what it does not mean. Gathering in the lavishly appointed Oval Office—a room that now smells faintly of fast food and desperation—the administration's top lawyers, wildlife officials, and a few interns who just needed a break from their TikTok scrolling, put their heads together in a quest to redefine the laws protecting the planet’s most vulnerable creatures. "Why should we bother trying to protect an entire species when we can just have a fun legal game of semantics?” one anonymous aide quipped between bites of a cheeseburger. Under the new standard, 'harm' is no longer a broad concept encompassing actions like clear-cutting forests or poisoning rivers—no, that was just too ambiguous for their liking. Now, if a company decides to pave over a swamp inhabited by the endangered Snail Darter, they can simply argue that their actions cause no "harm" because, technically, the Snail Darter has already vanished from the premises, possibly to a safer location where it can enjoy a burger too. "Let's be honest," said a confounded official who had just returned from a field trip to the local zoo. "Do we really need to spend time worrying about a fish that no one has seen in years? It's just a fish!" As the rationale deepens, so too does the irony. The administration champions job creation—especially in the coal and oil industries—and declares that, if species want to survive, they should start a GoFundMe to pay for their own protective measures. “Seriously, if these animals really want to stick around, they should learn to hustle,” the official remarked as he casually tossed a quarter into the office's tropical fish tank—his small contribution to species advocacy. The phrase “no harm no foul” has suddenly become the new mantra echoing off the polished walls of buildings filled with just-donated tax dollars. Environmentalists are reportedly reeling from the sheer brilliance of this rebranding. “It’s genius really,” said one wildlife advocate, masking tears with a laughter tinged with disbelief. “Why fight for biodiversity when we can just declare it extinct and blame it on its own lack of ambition?” As poll numbers trend down among concerned citizens worried about the Earth’s creatures, the message is crystal clear: if you can’t save the woodpeckers, at least make a fortune–that’s what the administration is counting on with its "Get Big or Go Home" policy. And as the last Snail Darter swims into obscurity, a new species of negotiator emerges to fill the power vacuum: lawyers who specialize in dubious environmental defenses. Because in the end, isn’t it better if we leave some creatures behind for the sake of economic development? After all, who needs a panda when you have profit?