A while back, I shared my New Year’s resolution that I would no longer listen to WFAN (other than Mets games and Steve Somers). Unfortunately, as happens with most New Year’s resolutions, I’ve chipped away at mine until it’s compromised into oblivion.

For instance, when I get in the shower in the mornings, I feel compelled to turn on the radio, and tune it to WFAN while doing so. Even though WFAN’s morning show–Boomer and Carton–is god awful.

Check that: Boomer Esiaison’s not bad, but lord, Craig Carton sucks hard and long. The guy was spawned in the same secret frat boy lab where they genetically engineer morning zoo radio hosts. He’s got the same stupid, misogynistic, homophobic, and proudly ignorant opinions about sports–and life–that you can hear on any morning show in any city.

So why do I listen to it? I don’t know. I wish I could tell you what compels me to listen to something that just makes me angry and starts my day off on a bad foot. But so help me God, I don’t know.

This morning was the absolute nadir, though. As was just getting ready to leave the bathroom post-shower, Carton started talking about how he was “worried” about David Wright after watching him in the WBC.

I knew exactly what Carton was going to say: That David Wright isn’t “clutch”. That’s been the popular Angry Mets Fan Meme ever since last September. Why? Because everyone remembers Wright not driving in one run in one particular game against the Cubs down the stretch, so therefore he’s not clutch.

Mind you, all this handwringing ignores the fact that Wright’s stats in “clutch” situations (loosely defined though they are) are very good over the course of his career. But the kind of people who get upset over Wright’s supposed un-clutch-ness are not the types to be swayed by evidence and logic.

It also didn’t help that Carton’s radio-mate Mike Francesa spent the entire off-season pounding the completely baseless “Wright Ain’t Clutch” point over and over again, while also begging the Mets to trade him so they could “break up the core”.

(And then Francesa had the nerve to be offended when Wright didn’t want to talk to him during his visit to Port St. Lucie. I was gonna say Francesa’s got some chrome-plated balls, but it’s more likely they’re fortified with Diet Coke and Funyuns.)

Again, I know exactly what Carton’s going to say. So do I turn off the shower radio and go my merry way? Of course not. I go into my bedroom, turn on the clock radio, and tune it to WFAN and hear him say exactly what I know he’s going to say. Even though I know it’ll just make me angry.

As I listen and seethe in my bedroom, The Wife walks in, hears that I’m listening to WFAN, and scowls at me. And I feel like a drunk who got caught sneaking a belt of vodka from a secret bottle in his sock drawer.

She reminds me of my resolution, and I give the lame retort that it was okay because Carton was talking about the Mets (even though, as I said, he wasn’t exactly breaking big news). And again, I feel like the drunk who attaches more and more conditions on his teetering sobriety. “Yeah, baby, I know I said I wouldn’t drink no more *hic* but see, it’s okay to drink on a Tuesday cuz it is! *hic*”

Can anyone out there help me with this problem? Seriously. I recognize that I am powerless against my addiction.