The Late Show with Stephen Colbert ends its run on Thursday night. Our critic-at-large, Eric Deggans, will be posting his takes on the last episodes right here.

Most TV shows wrapping up after more than 10 years in the game would start off their finale week with an avalanche of clips capturing the most impactful moments from the program’s long run.

But The Late Show with Stephen Colbert is no ordinary program.

So Colbert kicked off the show’s last four episodes Monday, with a “best of the worst of” episode, featuring a bunch of comedy bits so awful they mostly never aired at all. Which was really a sideways strategy for paying tribute to the show’s staff – who packed into the seats at the Ed Sullivan Theater in New York for this cavalcade of awful, shouting out comments on stuff like video clips featuring a fake ad for “erotic body gravy” that Colbert originally declined to air because the good-looking actors featured in it just looked like “soft core gravy porn.”

Words cannot describe how right Colbert was then.

There was more: A Graphics Graveyard bit featuring a never-aired image proclaiming Hillary Clinton the 45th president (they had hoped to use it during live election coverage in 2016 – sad trombone sound here). A middling field piece featuring Colbert and a staffer buddy surprising a perplexed woman living in the apartment where they once stayed in Chicago. And longtime staffer Brian Stack playing Shrieking Joe, a Kid Rock parody so abrasive that ratings took a nosedive whenever he was on – a trend I don’t expect to end with Monday’s episode.

It all unfolded in a way that left this critic feeling like he crashed the show’s last office party – watching lots of mildly funny material that probably hits a lot harder when you know the office drama behind making it.

As the show counts down its final nights, Colbert has tried hard to deflect anger, sadness or lionizing of his work. So I can see how an episode like this might have felt like a saucy way to redirect the inevitable nostalgia. But Monday’s episode didn’t give fans much to celebrate, beyond the obvious camaraderie the staff enjoys, even now.

In the end, as David Letterman’s former bandleader Paul Shaffer joined Colbert, the band, a bunch of dancers and one of his writers to sing a fish-themed parody of Shaffer’s 1982 disco pop classic “It’s Raining Men” – by the way, it’s not hard at all to believe that Colbert’s writers rejected this bit four times since 2011 – it all felt like a bit of a missed opportunity.

Here’s hoping the next three episodes give fans what they really want – a chance to celebrate the final hours of one of late night’s best satirists.

This week, legendary Jeopardy champion and host Ken Jennings joins panelists Tom Bodett, Joyelle Nicole Johnson, and Faith Salie to talk swearing on air and making up little lies to tell Alex Trebek

Just about every corner of Julie Burton’s Silver Lake studio is filled with sparkling glass jewelry — some real, some symbolic — and whimsical ceramic figures inspired by Midcentury Modern design.

Elegant hand-blown glass vases sit beside ceramic crater pots on warm cherry shelves. Bright teardrop earrings hang from metal tins filled with Japanese cooling beads. In the kitchen, hand-carved ceramic birds, whales, elephants and owls look out from the counters, surrounded by lidded cache pots and heavy candlestick holders that feel good in your hand. Nature shows up everywhere in her studio: rocks in glass jars, pieces of driftwood and tiny “forests” she’s made from glass, brass and walnut.

“I’m a full-time hallucinator without drugs,” Burton says jokingly about her wide range of work. “If I’m not making something, I’m always looking around and thinking about what to make next.”

A metal desk she found on Craigslist anchors the 546-square-foot accessory dwelling unit, or ADU, where she works. Architect Peter Kim designed the space, attached to her garage in Silver Lake, to be private and full of light, with 10-foot ceilings, skylights and glass doors that open onto a large patio with seating.

Her workspace shows how productive she is. Long, colorful glass tubes fill pails on the floor and her desk. Tools are scattered throughout the studio, including a plumber’s torch for melting glass, crockpots for pickling and a dental tool she uses to stamp her logo, VM, short for Verre Modern, onto her ceramics.

At 56, the Los Angeles native took an unusual route to becoming an artist. After earning a degree in political science from UC Berkeley, she worked at Amoeba in San Francisco and later joined the fashion brand Esprit. “I was supposed to be a data-entry person,” she says, “but I taught myself Quark and became a pattern maker.”

She admits she didn’t really know what she was doing. “I have a habit of taking jobs and changing them a bit. I’ve been lucky to be able to shape the jobs I’ve had.”

At one point, she considered becoming a professor of legal ethics, so, as the daughter of two lawyers, she applied to law school. “That would be an interesting job today,” she adds with a dry sense of humor.

“Built-in desks, cabinets, shelves and a functioning kitchen with counter seating provide a light-filled artist’s studio easily convertible to a spacious living space,” architect Peter Kim says of the ADU.

Burton melts glass for jewelry with a plumbing torch.

She had always loved art, especially glass-blowing, but classes were too expensive. On a whim, she also applied to the prestigious Rhode Island School of Design, or RISD. When she didn’t get into her top law schools, she chose RISD instead. There, she majored in illustration and took a six-week winter glass-working course that changed her life.

“I immediately thought, ‘This is the best. I want to do this,’” she says. “I didn’t think, ‘Can I do glass blowing for a living?’” When she realized she didn’t want to create art glass, her professor encouraged her to leave and “save $90,000 on tuition for something she wasn’t 100% behind.”

When a RISD friend introduced her to a glassblower in Chattanooga who had blown glass on an oil rig, Burton moved to Tennessee and worked for the former merchant marine, making what she describes as “funky glass.”

She later moved to New York and worked at the nonprofit Urban Glass in Brooklyn. To pay off her student loans, she also waited tables and tutored kids for the PSAT and SAT.

After a friend gave her a quick five-minute lesson in lampworking — a type of glasswork that uses a torch or lamp to melt glass — she got so excited that she decided to start a jewelry business, although she says she “knew nothing about jewelry.”

Glass necklaces, starting at $140, come in 135 different colors.

After a brutal winter in New York and as her parents got older, she decided to move back to Los Angeles in 2003. In L.A., she met her husband, had a son who is about to turn 15 and continued to grow her Verre Modern jewelry line. Over time, her work expanded to include glass and brass mobiles and wall hangings, which are now sold in independent shops and museum gift stores across the country.

Designer Carol Young has carried Burton’s jewelry at her Undesigned showroom in Los Feliz for 20 years. Young says that Burton “transforms humble glass into modern heirlooms — simple, elegant, quietly precious pieces for women who don’t need the obviousness of gemstones or status jewelry. My everyday pair are her clear glass Valenti earrings, which somehow go with absolutely everything.”

When she took a ceramics class in 2015, she started making vases, animals and decor, often hand-building and carving her unique vessels while watching TV in her living room. Like with most things, she says, she made ceramics her own.

“When I was blowing urban glass, I didn’t use traditional Italian glass-blowing techniques because I worked for a guy on a mountain in Tennessee,” she said. “I didn’t know anything about jewelry, but a five-minute lampworking lesson set me on my path. If someone who does ceramics for a living were to watch me do what I do with clay, they’d say that’s not the right way to do it.”

Burton worked in a studio on Spring Street in downtown Los Angeles for 20 years before she and her husband added the ADU in 2023. “It was built with the idea that we might live in the studio someday or let a family member live there,” she says, adding with a laugh: “It’s embarrassingly nice as a working studio. That is definitely not how my studio downtown looked.”

Burton’s kitchen features Inax Japanese ceramic tile and untreated cherry cabinets.

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The cutouts in the fence around her patio just outside the ADU are lined with her ceramics, sand dollars, driftwood and rocks from Burton’s travels. “I’m inspired by nature,” she says.

The one-bedroom, one-bathroom ADU was built on an unused side yard of the large corner lot, so the two-car garage could still be used for storage and parking. Architect Kim says, “While converting a garage to an ADU can add living space or rental income, they’re often small, need a lot of structural work and take away storage.” He adds, “Building an ADU on unused space lets you keep the garage and, like with Julie’s ADU, creates a spacious, private front patio connected to her studio and living room.”

Burton looks back on her unique career path and feels grateful she can choose her own direction. When she studied illustration at RISD, she recalls being surrounded by talented drafters. “I wasn’t the best illustrator, and I remember the professor told me that half of illustrations are ideas. That was inspiring.”

That idea continues to inspire her art, even after many years.

“I’ve tried welding, woodworking, painting, drawing, glass-blowing, lampworking and working with clay,” she says about working with her hands. “Give me a medium, and I’ll give it a go.”

Burton works on a facet bowl in her Los Feliz living room.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)