On Tuesday night, a fence behind Cat's Cradle was energised by a nearby power line that was struggling under the strain of everybody's air conditioning needs. There was a BOOOM!, and central Carrboro plunged into darkness. Panic! Riot! Looting! But no, everybody was very restrained, even when we pointed out that the cheesecakes in Weaver Street Market were just melting away. In the event, we did the only thing acceptable: we went to a bar in Chapel Hill and started drinking. And we learnt that a crash course in American life can be gleaned from watching VH-1, that Transformers melt in the sunlight, and that Fuse has a chalkboard in the men's toilet, but not the women's. Following from afar: has Pete Doherty gone on a machine-gun rampage yet? More to come, including crazy golf at night and…oh, I forgot, I have been requested to point out that, on Monday, a guy in a petrol station recognised Laura's Liverpool 2005 Champions t-shirt. He mentioned something about Michael Owen, which made me think of Bonnie's cackling laughter the day after Liverpool won the Champion's League… Also, I think it's wise to spend at least part of today giggling at Ian Paisley, who has just been checkmated…hohoho.