Today marks the seventeeth blogiversary of this here website thingy. Counting this one, we’re at 111,095 posts over 17 years, the last 13 of which have been without a day off. As I’ve said on this day every year, whether I am insanely committed or am insane and should be committed – that is entirely your call.
The news never stops, even now that we’ve ridden ourselves of the spectacularly stupid person that was running the country. I appreciate all of you for sticking with me all these years, particularly over the last year when the entire world was turned upside down by the pandemic.
For many years site traffic has indicated that most of you tend to read JMG during office hours and that continues to be the case, although I suspect some of you are now likely reading this on your couch in your underwear, which presumably is not your usual office outfit.
On the down side, a lot of the ads you’ve seen lately on JMG have tended to be PSA types and other annoyingly ill-targeted “remnant” fillers. That because, perhaps obviously, the advertisers that gravitate towards the LGBT vertical – namely travel, restaurant, and entertainment companies – have largely put their campaigns on hold.
That’s why, more than ever, it’s the generous support of the JMG community that keeps the lights on around here. PayPal sends me a monthly tip jar recap, but for those who donate without a PayPal account and for other reasons I still don’t understand, I often don’t get an email address to send a note of thanks. That bothers me.
On behalf of myself and our tireless tech support guy Jack, who deals with a lot of stupid nonsense at stupid hours, you have our eternal thanks for being part of the rollicking community of “homosexual buccaneers” and straight allies at JMG.
As the light at the end of the COVID tunnel continues to get brighter, I very much look forward to hanging out with you in meatspace soon. We’ve not been able to hold any JMG meetups since 2019, but I will demand drunken sweaty hugs once they resume.
Help yourself to some punch and cookies. Please don’t let the cat out. And onward to year EIGHTEEN!