Y’know, I’ve received some flack about my opinions, beliefs, thoughts, blogs, etc. And believe me, I expected it before I ever walked into the studio now known as The Break Room.

And I think it may have to do with the idea that I don’t take myself seriously. And in this industry almost everybody takes themselves seriously.

I used to produce a midday talk show in this town. I truly think the listeners of that station believe the hosts put-on capes and masks after each show and solve the world’s problems.

But its not just personalities. It’s callers and listeners, too.

I used to produce and host sports talk shows and I’d get the same 12 guys calling into each show. I won’t name them, but if you’ve followed the local radio scene, you’ve probably heard at least one of their calls. If you need a hint, they’re the only guys who call with nicknames.

Then there’s the guy (or “lady”) who calls-in to anonymously yell at the producer and then hangs-up, says they’re a “loyal longtime listener who’s turning the dial,” threatens to call the FCC, calls in NOT to go on the air, but to tell the producer to let the host know their opinion, or call for a host to be fired as if the station hotline rings to a red-lit phone under a clear plastic dome.

So it doesn’t surprise me when I say or write something and people think I’m a p—k, a d–k, a s——d, an a—–e, an elitist, ignorant, a douchebag, a typical Yankee fan, a Bible-thumper, or a loser. I’ve heard it all before.

And I’m flattered you take me seriously, because I sure as heck don’t.

Then again, maybe that’s one of my biggest flaws. In fact, I know it is.

I recently wrote a piece complimenting true Red Sox fans, who now can finally feel the way true Yankee fans once did. Instead, I got a bunch of flack for it. So I defended myself. Then got some flack for that, too.

I never write anything for shock value. Effect, always. But never for sheer “ohmigods”.

But one thing I never want to happen is that I get teed-off (I have my Christian censors up) and just berate someone who may half listen, or misread something I say or write. Because, at the end of the day, we’re not curing (the proverbial) cancer.

Lumpy said something on the air today that made me even re-think what I said and wrote in regards to Red Sox fans:

When I say “bandwagon” fans, I should probably be saying “fairweather.”

All fans are on a bandwagon of some sort. He’s absolutely right. I’m just used to the idea of the term being associated with the word “jumper” next to it. So I just flippantly used it without thinking it through.

For that (and that alone) I apologize.

I hate fairweather fans. And if you’re a diehard fan of anything–Ultimate Fighting or The Grateful Dead–you know exactly the poseurs I mean.

Some of the best baseball discussions I’ve ever had were with Red Sox fans. Steve Hausmann and Curt Smith are just a couple. They know the game. When I hosted my own show, my best callers were Red Sox fans. I don’t need to kiss their arses–it is what it is. Discussing baseball with only Yankee fans can become redundant, and you hardly ever learn anything new.

My last piece was a tribute. It was just taken the wrong way. This isn’t a retraction. It’s just me stopping myself before I make enemies where I needn’t.

I understand some people are longtime listeners to station I just joined. I do appreciate that kind of loyalty, but don’t ever think that’ll influence anything I write here.

But I’m not here to make enemies. I’m just here because they tell me I have to write this stuff. So I might as well tell you what I think I think (all respect, Peter King).

But one thing I read a lot of on those anonymous message boards is that I need to ask John DiTullio for tips, or need to be more like Tools.

Sorry. I’m not John DiTullio. And I say this because he and I are good friends.

I’m not a “stathead.” John can recall the ‘72 Rose Bowl with the vivid clarity of the Vizio in his mind. I can barely recall the ‘04 ALCS after Game Four because it nearly put me into therapy. That’s why I do what I did in that last piece–look stuff up.

I don’t do sports like John. I won’t do sports like John. Because it’s not me. I could do a typical sports guy report, but that’s not what you wanna hear.

So as long as we understand each other, I think we’ll get along fine.

I do appreciate your thoughts and comments. Even the dirty ones.

 Here is Tommy's first VLOG.

Hey folks!

Just wanted you to know if gas prices are causin’ you to stay in town for the extended weekend, join me an my bandmates, Digglers Bridge, who’ll be following Primetime Funk this Saturday night @ High Fidelity.

We start at 11 and we’ll go the rest of the night.

High Fidelity is located at 170 East Ave. right next to Spot Coffee and across from Channel 10.

Yes, there is a $5 cover. But just think about all that money you’re saving on gas by staying in town to support local musicians and establishments by heading down to the East End Saturday night.

More info: www.digglersbridge.com or myspace.com/digglersbridgemusic.

Hope to see you there.

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Jon Lester just threw a no-hitter–the 18th in Red Sox history–the year after he overcame non-Hodgkins lymphoma and still managed to throw the clinching game of the 2007 World Series.After 86 years of futility, you now have won two world titles in four years, while Yankee fans still don those stupid “Got Rings?” shirts, or 2090 hats.First, any Yankee fan who buys one of those shirts needs to just swallow the sour grapes and accept a lifetime banishment from Yankees Universe for actually wearing something that screams “loser.”Second, (blank) you, Red Sox fans.Yes, I still hate you people. Even though my girlfriend is a Red Sox fan. All her little girlfriends are Red Sox fans. My bandmates  www.digglersbridge.com) Ken and Steve are revisionist Red Sox fans. Lumpy is supposedly a fan of the “Saux”, though he claims his Red Sox Nation membership card is still in the hands of the US Postal Service.Sure, you may ask any of these people what number Kevin Youkilis wears and they’d have no idea. You could mention the Boston Massacre of ‘78, and they’ll think you mean 1778. You can try to discuss Pesky’s Pole and they’ll think of either the Indy 500 or a DVD they forgot to return to (INSERT CMF ADULT VIDEO SPONSOR HERE).I don’t truly hate individual fans, per se. But I hate you as a group.It’s a good hate. A fun hate. It’s not Nation-of-Islam-hates-whitey hate. It’s a ball-breaking hate. And since we Yankee fans don’t have any juevos left to grapestomp since 2004, it makes me love to hate you wanna-be chowda-heads even more.Like I said, it’s a wink-wink hate. But a hate nonetheless. And a fear.A fear of walking into Fenway Park donning a Yankee jersey. A fear of naming my firstborn, Derek Jeter Borrello, knowing this could actually be detrimental to her life.Or most scary, a fear that the Olde Towne Team–once known for the Curse of the Bambino, Johnny Pesky incident in ‘46, racism toward both Jackie Robinson AND Willie Mays, Bill Buckner, the Big Red Machine, pissing-off Ted Williams, booing Jim Rice, losing three games in ‘67 to Bob Gibson, Bucky (F’n) Dent, Grady Little, Gordon Edes and his “curly-haired boyfriend” (Dan Shaughnessy), Harry Frazee, Tom Yawkey, Dan Duquette, Tony Conigliaro, Margo Adams, Sam “Mayday” Malone and trading Roger Clemens before he found started misremembering things–may be this century’s version of the New York Yankees.My father warned me that old curse may have actually reached its former juxtaposition. And it now may have invaded the new Yankee Stadium thanks to some BoSox memorabilia some no-show construction mobster says he mixed into the concrete like Jimmy Hoffa’s TEAMSTERS card.But what’s almost as infuriating is the Beantown Bandwagon is growing faster than Ted Kennedy’s tumah.If you’re truly a formerly long-suffering, dyed-in-the-stirrups, card-carrying member of Red Sox Nation who can tell me which Met hit Bill Buckner’s famous gaffe, what the score was beforehand, the order of pitchers who helped blow Game Six, and where you were when it all imploded, you know the “fans” I’m talking about.And in all honesty, admit it, you hate these Red Sox fans, too, just like I hate these chick Yankee fans who say their favorite Yankee is Alex Rodriguez. Thank God the YES Network canceled Ultimate Roadtrip, even if one of its “fans” was from Rochester.You (true red-n-blue Saux fan) and I probably know more about the Red Sox–a team I hate–that those who have grew grizzly beards and joined that artificial, ESPN-created Red Sox Nation, born in Bristol, Conn. long before Curt Schilling’s sacred Sock of Turin.Yet, who’da thunk at the turn of the century that a pinstriper like myself–who has documentation of being a Yankee fan since age 3–would actually become jealous of a bunch of “idiots?”Yes. It’s true.Your team and your legions of fair-weather fans have given me even more reasons to hate you besides just being yourselves.I could crack wise about Ted Williams freeze-dried head, but you’re still the world champs.I could make a joke about the KKK sponsoring a Tom Yawkey white-hood night at Fenway–you’re still the world champs.I could say it all doesn’t bother me, but you’re still the world champs.And that would make me a liar.Even if most of you are lying about how long you’ve loved the Red Sox.But you’re still the world champs.

I really have nothing to add today after having Tommy rip my soul to pixie-dust this morning.

So ‘ll just leave y’all with this:

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