On Sheep, Crap, and the Hobo Next Door

In those rare moments of self-doubt (okay, so they're frequent, whatever) I wonder to myself why anyone would want to read a medieval blog written by a neurotic woman given to rare moments (okay, frequent!) of self-doubt. Then I take a look at the other blogs* out there and I'm no longer experiencing said self-doubt.
Have a look at MoutonBenzene Luxe, an artsy site which my mediocre French translates as 'Gasoline Sheep with trendy-sounding-final-word-I-didn't-learn-in-high-school'. A moment of silence to digest that, please.
Okay.
Ready?
Then there is The House Next Door, which just freaked me out in general because I'm not sure which of my neighbors is posting it. Is it Crazy-Shirtless-Hedge-Pruner-Dude on my left, or is some hobo with a laptop posting from the vacant house on my right? Now I'm spending valuable blogtime watching the empty windows for lights.
I found The American Thinker amusing in that its staff put the two words together as if they were mutually exclusive. American AND thinker? Wow. Imagine that.
Cory Doctorow's Craphound. With so much aforementioned crap in the blogging world to "sniff out"**, and most of it published without such a helpful disclaimer, I found the blog name refreshing. Well, as refreshing as anything that's related to the word 'crap' can be. But I have to say I felt misled, because Craphound turned out to be okay. And I was really looking forward to some crap. Oh well . . .
The Orcinus Orca Collective raised an eyebrow as I passed it on Blogs of Note. Are we expected to believe that aquatic mammals can type? How do they use their laptops without laps, and most especially without electrocuting themselves?



So, dear pilgrim, what do all these ruminations signify? Have I been keeping you from that pithy new reality series and the accompanying crusty TV dinner for no reason at all, you wonder? I can only answer with a resounding



Yes.



Sorry to disappoint.



* in case the reader is not aware, there are blogs other than this one. But you don't want to read those other blogs, now, do you? . . . unless they're medieval in nature, of course.

** you may not have noticed the juvenile play on words there. I'll give you a minute. Got it? Okay, you can resume reading.