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Former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush isn't officially a presidential candidate, but by delivering a speech to the Detroit Economic Club Wednesday he sure acted like one.

The elite, nonpartisan organization is a must-stop for serious candidates — it's hosted every eventual president since Richard Nixon. The list of presidential contenders who've taken to the podium there in recent decades is long. Last year, Kentucky Sen. Rand Paul was among the speakers.

The club was founded in 1934 during the Great Depression, by prominent Detroit businessman Alan Crow to hold Michigan gubernatorial and senatorial debates and talks by congressional and business leaders.

Its nearly 3,300 members include movers and shakers from Michigan's political and corporate worlds.

Historically, candidates like Jeb Bush have used the forum to outline their economic policies. It was during his 2012 DEC speech that Michigan native Mitt Romney famously listed all the cars he owned, including "a couple of Cadillacs." Romney's father, automaker and former Michigan Gov. George Romney, spoke at the DEC with Nixon in the 1960s.

In 1992, Bill Clinton used the DEC platform for "a major economic address," that criticized President George H.W. Bush. A month later, Bush delivered his own address at the DEC to announce his economic agenda for his second term.

More recently, then-Illinois Sen. Barack Obama in 2007 reprimanded Detroit auto giants from the DEC podium.

"We know that our oil addiction is jeopardizing our national security," he said. "Here in Detroit, three giants of American industry are hemorrhaging jobs and profits as foreign competitors answer the rising global demand for fuel-efficient cars."

"We politicians are afraid to ask the oil and auto industries to do their part and those industries hire armies of lobbyists to make sure that the status quo remains," he said.

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Fresh Off The Boat, a comedy premiering Wednesday night on ABC, is the rare series that features Asian-American actors in a show about an Asian-American family. It closely resembles ABC's Black-ish not primarily because both shows feature casts of color, but because both shows share a sort of emerging ABC house style, in which slightly hapless but deeply lovable narrators have family adventures while constantly teetering at the edge of a very much heightened reality.

The show is based on — but liberally adapted from — the story of Eddie Huang, whose parents were from Taiwan, and who are played in the show by Randall Park and Constance Wu. Their American dream involves running a steakhouse, perhaps the most cowboy-tinged, Americana-themed kind of restaurant they could have chosen. For young Eddie, played by Hudson Yang, being an American kid means hip-hop.

It's well worth reading this New York Times piece by Wesley Yang, which interrogates the "tortured ambivalence" the real Eddie Huang has about the show, as well as the long piece he wrote for New York Magazine about finding most of the pilot silly and frustrating but a sliver of it energizing. (Make sure you get to the end, though; there's a turn.)

But it's also worth at least considering the show simply as a self-contained half-hour of broadcast comedy, separate from any obligation to break ground, and asking: is it any good?

In the first three episodes that the network made available, you get a pretty basic set of family stories: kids trying to make friends, kids getting goofy and ill-advised ideas, mom trying to navigate the crazy neighborhood ladies, dad dealing with the problems at his restaurant, mom trying to lower the boom about school. As already mentioned, it feels, in structure and style and mood, a lot like Black-ish, with young Eddie Huang taking the sardonic narration over in the place of Anthony Anderson as Andre Johnson. That's not necessarily surprising — CBS procedurals have a style, as do ABC dramas and as did many of the successful NBC comedies of the '80s and '90s. It's a slightly detached retelling by the central character, almost adopting a little bit of the ability mockumentary shows like Modern Family have to let characters reflect on their own folly.

For the early stages of the show, it's really all about the execution of the material. They're still settling into the rhythms of this family, but Constance Wu as mom Jessica and Randall Park as dad Louis are both very good at making rather sitcommy lines sound better than they would in less careful hands. Wu has a tough task here, because her hard-driving mom could easily drift into stereotype, but they're smart to give her a personal story early on in which she's called upon to decide whether to stand up to bullies, much like Eddie has to do at school.

It's certainly not a great show; Eddie Huang is right that they're taking a pretty safe, not very provocative approach to putting this family in front of the viewers of ABC. He's right that a lot of the feel-good lessons aren't exactly daring in the face of what television has been saying for decades about everything being ultimately universal.

But he's also right that there are bracing moments in which this show is pushing on dynamics that don't come up all that often, as when Eddie finds himself tussling with the black kid at his school over who's "on the bottom" of the pecking order. Every episode has a couple of moments like that, where a new facet is added to a pretty ordinary sitcom plot and even a jaded eyebrow may go up in interest.

There's a warmth to the show, though, that feels earned. It has promise. It's a family with a lot of rootable, likable people in it. And it has a really funny line about Burt Reynolds and Cop And A Half in the second episode, though you won't necessarily want to explain it to your littlest ones. Fortunately, they won't get it.

There's a PSA that greets you on the radio when you're driving the flat stretch of Colorado State Highway 113 near the Nebraska state line.

"With marijuana legal under Colorado law, we've all got a few things to know ... Once you get here, it can't leave our state. Stick around, this place is pretty great."

"I'm concerned what [Colorado's legalization] will lead to in terms of a change in culture, a change in the way that we enjoy a certain quality, a certain type of life, in small-town America."

- B.J. Wilkinson, police chief of Sidney, Neb.

B.J. Wilkinson, police chief of nearby Sidney, Neb., rolls his eyes whenever he hears that spot, made by the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment. Sidney is the first place you come to after crossing the border, and Wilkinson knows firsthand that not everyone's listening to those ads.

"Do you really think that somebody listening to that is going to say, 'Oh, they said on the radio I shouldn't take my marijuana back into Nebraska. So because they said it on the radio and I got a warning, I'm gonna listen to it'? Nah."

It's been more than a year since Colorado formally legalized recreational marijuana, and the police in the rural counties that border the state are reporting big increases in illegal marijuana trafficking.

Wilkinson says marijuana-related offenses in Sidney have increased 50 percent in that time, jumping from 100 to 150 cases.

Police in border towns like Sidney say they didn't vote to legalize the drug — and yet their communities are dealing with burdensome consequences. Two states, Nebraska and Oklahoma, are now asking the Supreme Court to throw out Colorado's law altogether.

Concerns About Changes 'In Small-Town America'

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In the evidence room at the courthouse in Deuel County, Neb., Sheriff Adam Hayward holds up a 1-pound bag of marijuana confiscated during a recent traffic stop. Kirk Siegler/NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Kirk Siegler/NPR

In the evidence room at the courthouse in Deuel County, Neb., Sheriff Adam Hayward holds up a 1-pound bag of marijuana confiscated during a recent traffic stop.

Kirk Siegler/NPR

"I'm concerned what [Colorado's legalization] will lead to in terms of a change in culture, a change in the way that we enjoy a certain quality, a certain type of life, in small-town America," Wilkinson says.

Wilkinson likes that small town life. He's spent his whole law enforcement career working in small towns. He's proud of Sidney, and it shows.

Sidney, population 7,000, is the headquarters of the hunting and camping retailer Cabela's. It's expanding, and so is the local hospital. There are a lot of jobs to be had here. Wilkinson says Sidney is thriving — and he doesn't want Colorado's experiment with marijuana to get in the way.

"I'm not disputing the fact that the people of Colorado voted to make this opportunity exist. I get all that," he says. "My problem is that the fallout from it is impacting our way of life and our quality of life here."

Much of what you hear about pot in this community is still pretty anecdotal. The cops say they're seeing an increase in distribution cases involving high school kids, but the high school principal says school officials haven't yet noticed more of the drug around, and the health department said it's an issue they're tracking.

Spend a couple of days in Sidney, and you won't find that marijuana is the number-one topic of conversation in town.

Bring it up to older folks — the ranchers who've been here 60 years — and sure, they'll bash Colorado's hippie culture. One man in a cafe told me that Colorado's dope shouldn't be Nebraska's problem.

But bump into someone who's younger, and there's a good chance they might tell you pot isn't as big a deal as it's being made out to be.

"There's always been pot around," says Brandon Sean, who grew up here. He doesn't smoke pot, but he says this part of the Nebraska panhandle is more independent, more libertarian, like Colorado.

"What do you do? I mean, you're not gonna stop it from coming over. That's kinda like the border down south — you ain't gonna stop it," he says.

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In Sidney, Neb., Police Chief B.J. Wilkinson says there's been a 50 percent increase in marijuana-related offenses in the year since neighboring Colorado legalized the drug. Kirk Siegler/NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Kirk Siegler/NPR

In Sidney, Neb., Police Chief B.J. Wilkinson says there's been a 50 percent increase in marijuana-related offenses in the year since neighboring Colorado legalized the drug.

Kirk Siegler/NPR

'Tons Of People, All The Time'

It's hard to say how much marijuana is coming into Nebraska border towns like this, but one thing is clear: Plenty of people will tell you that if you want to buy pot, you don't have to go far.

The closest dispensary is about a 40-minute drive away in Sedgwick, Colo. The town is small — just a couple of streets. There's a bar and an old stage coach motel-turned-antique shop. And then, next door to the hair salon, there's Sedgwick Alternative Relief, which markets itself as the "First Dispensary in Colorado."

Cathy, who doesn't want her last name used because this is such a small town, is getting highlights in her hair. She lives off one of the back roads by the state line, and it's clear she wants nothing to do with the dispensary.

"I think it's increased our revenue, it's definitely increased our population — maybe not with the kindest people," she says.

"You just see more out-of-state plates than what we normally do. Like before the pot shop came into town, nobody drove those roads. And now you see tons of people, all the time," she laughs.

Today, a couple of cars with Colorado plates are parked in front of the dispensary. There's also Illinois, Kansas and two from Nebraska.

Nobody really wants to talk to a reporter with a microphone. The dispensary's assistant manager doesn't want to give an interview on tape, but tells me the business sees a lot of customers coming down from Nebraska. But they're mostly older, he says, buying for their own personal use. They're not dealers.

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'We Don't Want This Stuff Here'

This isn't a big secret. Top law enforcement officials in Colorado have said their state is becoming a major exporter of marijuana, even though it's against the law for pot to leave the state.

Visit to the evidence locker in the courthouse in Deuel County, Neb., and that becomes clear. Those back roads out of Sedgwick lead to Deuel County.

"These bags here, these totes, these buckets ... this is 75 pounds of marijuana," says Sheriff Adam Hayward, displaying what he seized in a single traffic stop.

Hayward says he's overwhelmed. "Every bit of marijuana we have in here came from Colorado," he says.

Deuel County is roughly the size of Los Angeles, but has a population of just 2,000. Hayward has only a handful of deputies. In 2011 there were only four felony marijuana convictions in the county, but in 2014, there were 32, costing the county $150,000 — money that didn't go to fixing roads or schools, Hayward says.

"We need to stand up and say, 'No, we don't want this stuff here,' " Hayward says. "It's dangerous. It's bad for people's health. You don't want your kids getting involved in this."

For cops in these small towns along the Colorado border, this fight is about people's health, which is why Nebraska and Oklahoma aren't asking the Supreme Court to force Colorado to pay court costs. They're asking for Colorado's entire experiment with legal, recreational marijuana to be shut down, full stop.

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Recent reports about the death of former Cuban leader Fidel Castro appear to be exaggerated. Cuban state media released images of the 88-year-old Castro who has not been seen in public for more than a year, an absence that has led to speculation he is ailing or worse.

The photographs are the first since August 2014 when Castro was shown talking to Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro. In the images released today, the former Cuban leader is seen talking to Randy Perdemo Garcia, the head of the country's main student union. An accompanying piece by Perdemo Garcia says the three-hour meeting to commemorate the 70th anniversary of Castro starting his studies at the University of Havana took place Jan. 23. The Associated Press has more:

"The student leader says Castro said that he is keeping abreast of the news and performing daily exercises, and he engaged Perdomo in a wide-ranging discussion of topics including international politics, agriculture, astronomy, and even Namibia's donation of animals to Cuba's National Zoo.

"Perdomo says the two men discussed the release of three Cuban intelligence agents as part of the Dec. 17 declaration by Cuba and the United States that they would move to re-establish full diplomatic relations. The photos show Castro examining a newspaper report on their release."

On Jan. 26, the Communist Party-run Granma newspaper released a letter that it attributed to Castro, in which, as NPR's Eyder Peralta reported, he insisted Cuba will defend its ideals in the face of a planned rapprochement between his country and the U.S.

"I don't trust the politics of the United States and I've not said a word to them," he wrote. "This doesn't mean, however, that I reject a peaceful outcome... We will always defend the cooperation and friendship with all of the world and our our political adversaries."

An ailing Castro stepped down as Cuba's president in 2006 and handed the country's reins to his brother, Raul Castro. Rumors of his death have surfaced periodically since then.

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