Trailers for sale or rent. One disaster spills into another, when FEMA's contaminated Katrina trailers turn up as lodgings near the ongoing BP oil spill.

Infractions in fractions. Scam artists make millions of dollars, by sneakily billing people's credit cards for a few cents at a time.

Getting to the bottom of the summit. The Canadian Civil Liberties Association demands a public inquiry into police behaviour at Toronto's G-20 meeting.

Where the streets have your name. You can paint a New Zealand town red -- or whatever colour you want -- if you're willing to buy it first.

We've all been crying Wolfgang. If you're trying to make your kid a genius, turns out Mozart provides no more benefit than "Rock Me Amadeus".

And...O brave moo world that has such people in it! A British theatre group hits cows with the broadside of a bard -- and finds their milk production goes up. The cows', that is.

As It Happens, the Canada Day edition. Radio that presents a midsummer night's cream.

Usually a second chance is a good thing. Not so in the case of the hundred-and-twenty thousand or so trailers that were provided after Hurricane Katrina by the Federal Emergency Management Agency -- better known as FEMA.

Because they've been linked to serious health risks, the trailers were banned by the U.S. government from being used as permanent housing. Nevertheless, they've begun popping up around Louisiana, as housing for workers cleaning up the oil spill.

Back in March, when the trailers were being auctioned off, we spoke with Becky Gillette. She's the formaldehyde campaign director for the environmental organization, the Sierra Club, and she told us why she thinks these FEMA trailers are dangerous.

DALET FOA: FEMA TRAILERS

From our archives, that was Becky Gillette from the environmental group, the Sierra Club, speaking to Carol back in March about the health risks associated with the FEMA trailers provided to victims of Hurricane Katrina.

Some of these trailers are now being used in Louisiana to house workers involved with cleaning up the BP oil spill.

To hear her reaction, we reached Becky Gillette once again, in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

The visible signs of the G20 summit in Toronto are gone now. No more chain-link fences or swarms of police and protestors. But the controversy over the security operation remains.

Last night, we spoke to Howard Morton, a lawyer representing a Toronto man arrested in the lead-up to the summit, under the Public Works Protection Act. The act was quietly invoked by the provincial government to give police temporary special powers to arrest people near the G20 zone.

But the message from the police and the government about the extent of those powers changed several times over the last few days. And, according to Mr. Morton, the police and the government were both wrong -- the law is even more far-reaching than either group said.

To Nathalie Des Rosiers, that demonstrates why our laws need to be reformed. She's the general counsel for the Canadian Civil Liberties Association and we reached her in Toronto.

You're in the middle of a job interview, and things are going pretty well. The only thing you've done wrong so far is describe yourself as a "plerfectionist". But your prospective boss didn't raise an eyebrow, so you're pretty sure you've still got a shot. But then, she fixes you with an intense look, and you know the next question will be pivotal. And then she asks you: "Edward...or Jacob?"

It all comes down to this moment. And you have no idea who Edward or Jacob even are.

Well, you do if you're a fan of the "Twilight" books, or movies. Edward is a vampire who's in terrific shape considering he's a hundred-and-four, and is utterly devoted to the series' main character, Bella. In the films, he is played by the brooding British actor Robert Pattinson, whose hair is remarkable. Jacob, meanwhile, is a shape-shifter who can transform into a wolf. He is also utterly devoted to Bella. In the films, he's played by the American actor Taylor Lautner, whose upper body is remarkable.

You're either on Team Edward, or Team Jacob. There's no fence-sitting. Except, perhaps, when you're a candidate for the United States Supreme Court. In that case, you have to try to maintain a certain bipartisan appeal. Or maybe, you just have no idea who Edward or Jacob even are.

Yesterday, on the third day of Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan's confirmation hearings, Minnesota Senator Amy Klobuchar tried to get Ms. Kagan to reveal whether she was on Team Edward or Team Jacob. Here's what that sounded like, for the record.

If you think that you can make your children smarter by playing a little something called "Quartet Number Two in D Major", some academics have four words for you:

"Mozart Effect, Shmozart Effect."

That's the conclusion -- and the title -- of an article published in a psychology journal called Intelligence. It debunks the widely-held belief that playing classical music to your kids --- Mozart in particular --- will make them cleverer.

For Frances Rauscher, the conclusion is a long time coming. She's the psychology professor behind the original 1993 article that spurred parents everywhere to buy Mozart for babies and toddlers.

We reached Professor Rauscher in Wales, Wisconsin.

Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I feel more intelligent. So before my brain expands any more, we're going to take a break. But we'll be back after the news with more As It Happens -- and when we return:

When you steal pennies, the dollars take care of themselves. Inside a credit-card scam that made its perpetrators millions -- a few cents at a time.

Giant steps. A new study shows that elephants have a lot of nerve -- which is why it takes them so long to do anything.

A comedy of udders. A Shakespeare troupe performs for cows -- and finds that, as an audience, the quality of Guernseys is not strained.

If you'd like to comment on anything you hear on the program, call Talkback. The number is 1-866-481-5718. Or email us at aih@cbc.ca. Stay tuned. I'm PA.

And I'm CS.

It's a monthly ritual. The credit card statement arrives, and you scratch your head in puzzlement and try to remember: "Where and when did I spend my money?" If it's a small enough purchase -- say, a dollar or two -- you might not even notice it.

That kind of confusion is exactly what some scammers are counting on. Until they were stopped a few months ago, fraudsters bilked millions of Americans of millions of dollars through an elaborate micro-credit card scam -- some victims for as little as a quarter.

Steve Wernikoff is a staff attorney at the Federal Trade Commission. He's prosecuting the case. We reached him in Chicago.

It's fair to say that certain members of the animal kingdom move with more grace and swiftness than others.

For example, elephants don't scurry, dash or scamper. And you're not likely to see a mouse lumber or waddle.

To find out why that is, a kinesiologist from Simon Fraser University decided to hit an elephant in the foot with a reflex hammer. His name is Max Donelan. The kinesiologist, not the elephant. The elephant's name is Lucy. We reached Dr. Donelan in Burnaby, BC.

Classic cars and jewelry are fine status symbols, but the ultimate in conspicuous consumption is surely the ownership of a whole town. So if you're looking to generate the kind of envy and resentment that only come with being the proprietor of a whole municipality, have we got a deal for you: right now, for under seven-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars Canaidan, you can become the Donald Trump of Otira, a small community at the foothills of New Zealand's Southern Alps. You'll get a hotel, and a pub, and eighteen houses. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, but at that price, can you resist it?

Kevin Johnson is hoping you can't. He's a real estate agent with Tourism Properties who's trying to sell Otira. We reached him in Christchurch, New Zealand.

When it comes to culture, Holsteins may not be the Philistines you might think.

It has long been established that cows have an ear for classical music, but just how far does bovine appreciation of the high arts extend?

I know the perfect guy to ask: Rob Forknall. He and his theatre company have been performing Shakespeare to a herd of Friesan cows. We reached him in Maidstone, England.

During the space race, the Americans had one dream -- to put a man on the moon. But back then, we Canadians had our own dreams. Granted, they were a little more modest. A little more Canadian

. And while Neil Armstrong was bravely stepping onto our satellite -- and botching a speech he had, frankly, had plenty of time to prepare -- our domestic space-dreams were far from being realized. It took nearly forty years for our long-held plans to come to fruition. And according to new documents, we succeeded a few years ago. We finally invented a space cookie.

An Access to Information request by the Canadian Press has revealed that, back in 2006, the Canadian Space Agency decided our long-held national dream of developing a space cookie needed to be put on the front burner. So C.S.A. officials commissioned scientists with Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada to create a Canadian menu, that would be served for a single-day menu on the International Space Station. With a budget of more than four hundred thousand dollars, the scientists went about providing astronauts their just desserts. Soon afterward, plans for the menu were put on hold, but Canadian space cookie development continued.

You might think conjuring up a space cookie is a piece of cake... but apparently making a nutritious and delicious snack is rocket science. The project took several months, thirty-seven suppliers, and more than one-hundred combinations of possible ingredients.

In August, 2007, the sandwich cookie made its space debut, and Canadian astronaut Dave Williams gave it a glowing review, describing it as a "little bite that was out of this world". Get it? He said that because it's small, and it was in space! Or, possibly, it was just an artful way of saying nothing at all.

People who are actually familiar with the snack, and are less prone to making space jokes, say it's a nutritious oatmeal cookie, flavoured with Canadian ingredients like maple syrup, blueberry, and cranberry cream. But although the cookie sounds delicious, its names did not. First, it was dubbed the "Canookie". After careful consideration -- one hopes, no more than twelve seconds' worth -- that name was discarded, in favour of "Cana-snack". But although the Cana-snack took off to space three times, the product never took off here on Earth. Efforts to mass-market the cookies crashed and burned.

It's not clear why the evidence of our long-dreamed-of space-cookie success was kept hush-hush until an enterprising reporter dug it up. But now we all know, and can proudly say, as Canadians: it was one small step for science, and a slightly less small leap for mankind.