I guess when the means of exchange becomes a commodity, asset bubbles are inevitable. And possibly too, my own interpretations of the market place are not bound by assurances of salesmen, but rather they are held fast in the iron grip of an analysis of our species that sees us all as kind of lost. So invariably shiny things attract us, and better to put it within the framework of Christmas Tree decorations than to become all puritan and righteous in our reaction to our own limbic responses to I guess what the Saints might call 'egregiousness.'
But none of this means we have to be jolly about the Vegetable Garden. And here,
I regret to say, I have to return to the conundrum of edging. If I was to say,
"edging limits" life would be so much simpler, but I can't because I have to
take a constructionalist approach, which means that I have a model of my
own universe in my own mind that has over time been constructed out of the
blank slate I might once have been. And how, I wonder, do I remove 'edging' from
this model without enduring some kind of mental breakdown. Such a shame
the lobotomy is no longer fashionable.