“What’s with the sport coat, Weir?”
“Well, Jer, it’s like my dad used to say: You never know when you’re gonna have to teach an English class.”
“Smart guy, your pop.”
“Man was on the ball.”
Bobby’s dad may have given him advice about sudden language lessons, but mine told me that if I ever had to play for a stadium of teenagers at ten in the morning, to play the atonal paean to Islam that hadn’t even been released, and then transition into Johnny B. Goode. You can also read all about it at Lost Live Dead, or check out the contemporaneous reports at Grateful Seconds.