I peered into the upper floors through binoculars. I'd like to say I saw a typewriter, a feather boa, a chintz bedspread, and a skeleton in a fedora in the tub.

Skip lunch, ditch the sneakers, and put on your sportcoat, honey, because tonight we're celebrating at the Dal Rae supperclub in Pico Rivera! You'll think you've been somewhere.

This week, Scientific American reported on a study that found more and more of the music we're listening to is written in minor keys.

It started as a routine call to the plumber. Tree roots in the sewer. But what happened next, according to KPCC's Gordon Henderson, defied imagination.

To be honest, I can't tell you how much Drew understands. Visiting him is like being on a carnival ride; sometimes it's smooth, then the craziness pops up to holler boo. At various times Drew has told us he's a powerful drug dealer and a famous songwriter on TV. Recently he had to be restrained after violently attacking an aide.

While the news looks superficially good — sales are up, prices are rising, foreclosures are down — the market remains distorted.

When it was my turn, I said, "I'm thankful that at that very first Thanksgiving everybody ignored the one wise, old Native American woman who kept saying, 'If you feed them, they'll never leave.'"