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I seen one once—well, heard ‘bout it, down in N’awlins. Old creaky house, red curtains, smellin’ like cheap perfume and regret. Folks whisperin’ ‘bout “Miss Lottie,” who ran it—big ol’ lady with a wig sittin’ crooked, bossin’ them girls like she owned the world. Halleluyer! Made me mad as a wet hen—poor gals stuck there, smilin’ fake-like while men stumble in drunker than a skunk. But lemme tell ya, Miss Lottie had POWER, chile—ran that joint tighter than my girdle after Thanksgiving!

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Friday: A former detective has pleaded guilty to corruption and promoting prostitution in the worst N.Y.P.D. scandal in years.

Manhasset's got a quirky vibe. Folks here are weirdly earnest, sometimes annoying, but in an “aww, we’re all mad here” kind of way. Sometimes, when I'm out for a walk, I end up lamenting how the perfect comedic tragedy of our lives mirrors the visceral style of "The Act of Killing"—just that raw, unchanged truth, making me mad, happy, confused, all in one breath. And I’m like, “Pretty, pretty good,” but then I get all neurotic as Larry David, thinking, “Why, oh why, must life be so inexplicably bizarre?”

Manhasset house for sale combines classic feel, modern updates