Grey skies. Cold temperatures. Cloyingly sweet co-workers. Another Christmas alone. Men who still ain't shit.

With all of that, I was about to shut this place down yesterday.

Can you believe that? Two and a half years and 596 posts strong and I was about to shut this down and make it nothing but a memory. But it wasn't for the reasons stated above. Wanna know why?

These goddamn blogcasts. Or podcasts. Or whatever the hell they are (I'm still prone to calling them audioblogs — boy, that shows my age).

Don't get me wrong…them shits are fun. And this last series really showed that a) people are listening to this shit and b) my audio quality is getting much better.

I'm for real — Audacity is the bomb.

As I touched on in my blogcast, I've been receiving a lot of negative comments and threats regarding this whole "Man of Morehouse" series. One of them threatened to shut my site down. And on most of the day Tuesday, BGB was down.

I ain't naming no names, but I got my eye on you Roger Toussaint.

I've gotten e-mails (and am still getting them, mind you) with people supplying my real name, my address…even a few phone calls. Phone calls, y'all. I'm at work minding my business, pick up the phone, and some rank ass queen on the other end squeaks out "Oooh…Karsh honey…you sound mo' fish…" and then hangs up.

I'll admit; the shit had me spooked for a hot minute.

I mean, BGB's not a dirty little secret, but when random ass folks start calling you out, it can be…sobering. But as Bernie reminded me…I can prosecute these threatening folks. And this kinda reminds me of when I did that whole black male blogger list like almost two years ago and a certain ex-magazine worker/blogger felt the need to call me out and my place of (then) employment on this blog. Really, what the fuck does that accomplish? Shit, I got half a mind to say who it was, but I'm not going there. That'd be stooping to their level.

And really, if idle threats and shit cause me to shut down BlackGayBlogger.com, then wouldn't the terrorists have won?

It's like the old saying goes — I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.

Or as it goes from the Book of Trent: Shout me a holler, fuck a fake bitch, and catch a brick hoes.

So usually around this time of year, I go on hiatus for a spell. Call it resting up. But I think with my Chicago trip coming up and twelve days off, I'll definitely be in a writing mood. Hell, I might even post over at Metroblogging Atlanta — something I hadn't done in months. But I need something to write about. I mean, where do you go next after you've exposed the homosexual and homophobic underculture of the world's foremost institution of higher learning for Black men?

You tell me.

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