Goodbye to Starrett City. My elementary school friend Moses Kim lived there, and I used to love going out to what -- honestly -- seemed like a futuristic countryside to romp around at his house. His dad had some kick-ass samurai swords that we ogled like we later would women. I lost touch with Moses upon the onset of the condition known as junior high, but right now his neighbors are in trouble.

A friend of mine in Iraq e-mailed me to remind me to defend Brooklyn from the hordes. It needs defending. Cortelyou Road is now home to what appears like a douchebaggy bookshop known as (groan) Vox Pop. It promises "books, coffee, democracy." Dear Lord. Nearby is a fantastic restaurant known as the Farm on Adderly, where a chef named (I think) Cee Cee makes an insane butternut squash soup -- it really ought to make the place famous -- and prepared for me easily the best steamed bluefish I've ever tasted. Except for me and my mother, the place was filled with asymmetrical haircuts. It was hard to believe.

Worse was when I drove to Gr**np**nt to pick up Rebecca. I don't know what I expected, but I for some reason thought McKibben Park was a natural boundary to guard against the hipsters. No such luck. I wonder if the people in her neighborhood actually stand up when Jay-Z tells Brooklyn to stand up.

I recognize and accept that someone needs to point out how Florida Avenue NW is being ruined by people like me, but I still miss my old Brooklyn.