busker

I have truthfully never wondered if a *anyone* stumbles across these entries. I live in determined denial that this blog's existence is known to anyone - indeed, it was quite a jolt to read that my pal checked in now and then to keep tabs on me.

I can see how those 'in trade' with something to sell would want to monitor such figures and thus be able to wallow in the humiliation of comparing precise visitor numbers to the lack of sales or interest in their product, but for those simply rabbiting away on whatever topic catches their fancy, I can't see that it matters.

This almost falls into my 'overweening pride' section, exception that it refers to *self* consciousness rather than vanity glorifying technology and the blogocircle itself.

Speaking of vainglorious overweeners, the shrewdly observant Clint Sharp pinpoints an absolute doozy of a tempestuous teacup, all over Sarah Boxer's mild Emperor's Clothing number on the budding world of vlogs.

As can be seen by just one source, SB hit such a nerve-ending that the sensitivi were instantly mobilized.

The funny thing is that, if only the more rabid responses could have been delivered in vlog format, that would have trounced Ms Boxer's suggestion of navel-contemplating *and* advanced the cause of meaty content by several months.

As it is, the sheer range and raucousness of reactions speak for themselves, and I hope neither La Boxer nor her editor are monitoring this feedback. If so, there'll have been triumphant ^5s all round and Ms B's assignment to her new role of Provocateuse without Portfolio for the whole Vlog beat. But I digress from my musing on the numbers game.

I wouldn't know *how* to count eyes, but it's clearly part of every smart tapper's bloggernalia so I shall consult my pal. In fact, he is no doubt reading this as I speak, so no need to consult after all - just sit back and await the chime of his in-bound tutoring mail.