This Is It

If you dropped a space-clearing, black hole, terraforming bomb on a section of Long Island -- the type of bomb that would just clear out everything and leave a flat expanse of open land -- and then let the developers have at it, the result would look kind of like the section of Arlington I just moved into.

New. Glossy. Filled with brand-name retailers and high-end eateries of the Cheesecake Factory milieu. A Whole Foods that will inevitably become my new go-to supermarket. More yuppies and station wagons than you can throw a stick factory at.

This is the new hood. After a year out in Crooklyn, and a year before that up in Morningside Heights, Cheddar finally cleared out of the Rotten Apple last week and made the move down to Northern Virginia, the better to attend law school. Had to happen. Peace, Park Slope. Later, 7th Avenue. Talk to the hand, F train. Especially you, you delay-ridden bastard. Clean yourself up before I come back.
[Sidebar: You know what Napoleon used to write to his mistress when he was on the way back to Paris after a military campaign? He'd fire off a letter that said "Ne te lave pas. J'arrive." Which translates roughly as "Don't wash, I'm coming." Napoleon was the best.]

The story of the move is worth a post in and of itself, and Y2K may hear that sad, sad, sad story one day, after I've come to terms with murdering that Budget Rent-A-Truck agent. But for the past week, I've been settling into a new pad in what turns out to be a rather different part of the country. Getting away from New York makes you remember that random people can be friendly, inviting and generous. Pretty weird, and it'll take some adjustment.

Speaking of adjustment, one of the changes I'm gonna have to make for school is giving up this regular writing gig here at the site. For the time being, I'm not going to be able to offer the weekly piece to Sip and A.F.O.M.G. that I'd want -- I just don't know how busy I'm going to be with school, and until I have a better handle on that, or Derek Jeter wins another Gold Glove, I'm just not going to be able to commit to writing anything on the regular.

Which sucks. This site has been a big part of my life for a couple of years now, back since A.F.O.M.G. started getting me into the Mets back at Meadow Street and before, and I'm plenty sad that it's all ending for the moment. Who else can I scream at about Hank Steinbrenner and Michael Kay? What other group of readers appreciates the beauty of a well-timed insult aimed at Brian Schneider? Where else am I going to able to rant about Jose Molina and Melky Cabrera without people thinking I'm a member of the Minutemen? (Actually, I should be fine on that count in Virginia.)

I suppose I'm going to have to start getting conversant with Nationals and Orioles talking points, which is just awful. "So, that Daniel Cabrera is a real moron, huh?" "Hey, if Ryan Zimmerman doesn't snap out of it soon, you may just have to kill yourself." That sort of thing. Again, this may turn out to be pretty easy.

[Sidebar: I've been listening to a lot of broadcast radio since I got down here. Seeing as I spent absolutely no time in the car while in New York, I've completely missed the whole radio thing, even with Hot 97 on the dial. Anyway, as soon as I got down here, I located the local hip-hop station, and have been blowing it out on Youth Jeezy and Lil' Weezy and the latest R&B fads and so forth. One thing stuck out to me, though -- they keep referring to their listenership, and by association the whole area, as "The DMV." Which I gather refers to the "District-Maryland-Virginia." It must be their nickname for the whole region, which is kind of cute. The more you know ...]

So, no more Friday posts from ol' Cheddar for the time being. Even beyond that, I'm gonna be staring the first semester of law school soon enough (like, in a week), which means my time is gonna be limited indeed. No more following the Mets religiously, which will put some hair back on my head and my chest. No more living and breathing with Jose Reyes' at-bats, or caring how level Carlos Delgado's swing is, or defending Carlos Beltran to anyone who'll stay in one spot for long enough to me to open my mouth. Cha-cha-cha-changes.

Cutting all this off at the umbilical is going to be a shock, and I'll keep up with the doings of the site and of my former patrons, who deserve all the credit and love in the world for giving an illiterate Buffalonian a platform for his demented ravings. Sip remains the Visionary Prince of the Mets Blogosphere, the man who'll take his ideas where none else dare, and he'll keep you hook on that next-level shit, while A.F.O.M.G. will undoubtedly continue to slice and dice like a ginsu. It's like Irv Gotti said at the press conference announcing the change of the name of his record label to "The Inc." -- "It's still murder! It's still murder!"

[Sidebar: Of course, as soon as Irv Gotti had just finished reassuring the gathered members of the media that it was still murder, the next question was what "The Inc."'s first record release would be. Irv Gotti didn't skip a beat. "Um, that'll be Ashanti's 'A Christmas Album.'" Irv Gotti is also the best.]

While I'm gone, here are the Top 3 action items to watch.

1) The Metsies' Playoff Push

I still think the Fish are going to fade hard down the stretch, assuming the Mets can actually start winning some games against them, so to my mind, the season is going to come down to the five games left against the Phils -- the two-game series later this month, and then the home weekend series in early September. Getting the play the Nats and Braves so much in the last month of the calendar is also a big help.

2) The Brett Favre Debacle

Mark my words, and mark them well -- this will end poorly. Very poorly. Brett Favre crying at a podium poorly. This is nothing other than a typical J-E-T-S overreaction, with the caveat that this is the best and most outrageous overreaction EVER. Sure, taking a guy who's spent his entire career in a tiny hamlet of hero worship and plunking him into a dysfunctional sub-playoff team should work out fine. You can take that one to the bank.

3) The Last Games in Yankee Stadium, the Greatest Building Ever Built By Man, Including the Pantheon and the Golden Gate Bridge, Assuming We're Counting the Golden Gate Bridge as a Building, Which We Probably Shouldn't, So Let's Go Ahead and Change That to the Hagia Sofia, Which is Always Underrated

Can you feel the excitement? Do you spring one when you think of the tenure of House That Ruth Built (except that it's been completely renovated since he played there, no big deal) coming to a close? No? If not, you may want to alert the members of the media that nobody gives a rat's ass about this. They may want to concentrate on the Bombers trying to make the postseason without Joba, which ought to be a trick.

Take care, all. Watch your back, eat your veggies, and don't trust anything you read in the New York Daily News.