Right Place, Right Time

RIP Malcolm John Rebennack, 77, better known as Dr. John, singer/songwriter whose music combined blues, pop, jazz, boogie-woogie and rock n roll. Born in New Orleans, his career began while he was in his teens. An injury in 1960 to the ring finger on his left hand had him abandon the guitar, at first for the bass, then piano. He was part of the fabled Wrecking Crew stable of session musicians, playing on records by the likes of Sonny & Cher, Canned Heat and Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention. He recorded more than 20 albums of his own, made many of guest appearances on TV, and did tons of live shows. He had a top ten hit in 1973, Right Place, Wrong Time. He was awarded six Grammys and was elected to the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame. Well done, sir. Thank you. (Facts from Wiki)

California’s branch of the National Weather Service picked up an unusual, huge mass on its radar. Guess what it is. Answer below the pic.

A swarm of ladybugs.

Nepalese crews have removed 12 tons of trash and four dead bodies exposed by melting snow from camps climbers use on Mt. Everest. One would think mountaineers would be more considerate.

A couple of nights ago Red Sox ace Chris Sale did something very rare during his three-hit shutout of the Royals. He threw nine consecutive strikes past the three batters he faced. It’s called an “Immaculate Inning” and was the second time this season he had done it. It had been done twice in a season only once before — by Lefty Grove pitching for the Philadelphia A’s in 1928. Sale has a lot of starts left to make history.

My thanks to the kind folks who bought and donated books today. Marina insisted on paying for the one she selected despite having given me four, saying in her Russian accent: “We friends, but business is business.” Love it. It looked like the return would be paltry until Dos showed as I was beginning to pack up. He’d obviously read about Exchanges online and asked why I’d considered that crazy work place one of the last outposts of free speech. I explained that the stress of trading led people into nasty outbursts that were soon forgiven. I was guilty of it several times myself — and I wasn’t even a trader! Born in the Soviet Union, Dos struggles with English. Maybe he was nervous, but I bet he’s another of the many people I’ve met who read it more easily than they speak it.

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