A frothy bit of market romanticism from Andrew Coyne, Canada's premier metaphor mangler:
Prices are the remorseless regulators of a market economy, incorruptible and inescapable, with a reach that the most totalitarian-minded gauleiter could only envy. And they work: where prices are left to do their job, shortages are unknown. We have enlisted them to good effect against scarcity, so much so that we are hardly even aware of it. Why will we not do the same for global warming?
Good Lord, how wonderful! If my wife found out about prices, she'd dump me and marry them! She'd be particularly impressed by the fact that prices work, whereas I like to sit around the house all day in my underwear and watch television. But can they make her laugh and sing? That's the question. They seem like a pretty grim bunch.
(PS. Weird that Conservatives lean so heavily on economic theory in their discussions of climate science, constantly appealing to ghostly invisible hands and invoking reified abstractions that, though they cannot be percieved by our mortal senses, apparently walk among us, watch over us, and guide our every decision)