"It's that stupid oil rig," Kevin yelled. "I swear you people out here in Wyoming have no respect for the planet."

A gentle breeze brush the prairie grass up against Kevin's leg. A jackrabbit bounded away from the sound of Kevin's New York accent to hide in his hole. Pronghorn grazed. A hawk turned circles above.

"It's people like you who are are destroying the planet," Kevin yelled. "This needs to stop- And where is that old coal mine you were going to show me?"

"You're standing on it," the old rancher said.

"Standing on it? What are they digging underground?"

"No, after they removed the coal they reclaimed the land. They even replant everything. Nature comes back quickly. That oil rig you see way out there will also go away once they are done with it."

"It's just sick what you people do out here," Kevin grumbled as he kicked a rock.

"So," the rancher sighed. "You say you're from New York City?"

"Yes, I am," said Kevin proudly.

"Do you have grass where you live?"

"What? Well, I mean, there's central park."

"But what about the street you live on?"

"OH!" Kevin laughed, "Cities like New York, LA, and Chicago are all the same. Concrete as far as the eye can see."

"I see," said the rancher, "Well, anyway, sorry that one little oil rig out there is spoiling your view. If you feel the itch to see construction clogging up the landscape as far as the eye can see I can take you to a wind farm. That's something you city folk insisted we build."

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