Quick rundown of the weekend: Club Dread was funny (but will surely be more amusing the more times it’s seen), Southern Culture on the Skids was a good show — they’re performers on top of being great and entertaining musicians.

And now, for the news. I’ve decided that the dry cleaning industry, the US Government and car manufacturers are all in cahoots. This morning, for example, I put on a freshly pressed shirt. After puttering around a bit it’s time to get in my car and put on my seatbelt, because by law, I have to. What happens to the shirt? I’m glad you asked. It’s wrinkled. Right where the belt lays on my shoulder. Nice creases. Which brings me back to the dry cleaner and the highway robbery that all women know about. Twice the cost of pressing a mans shirt. That’s it. I’m sure it’s much bigger than what I imagine and I might just turn up missing for stumbling onto this. Kind of like the Pelican Brief or Silkwood.

Yeah. I can see it now, they’ll make the story into a movie and they’ll get Paul Rubens to play me…