Trombone. Church Op-Shop. Bulldozing. More trombone.

Fagin bought this from The Warehouse saying "The Old Bastard will love this". Actually I hated it. It took me two months to assemble. I would like a real trombone too! Trombones have a wonderful range in between a tuba and double decker bus. They aren't tuned, like a kazoo. Trombone is derived from the Old English for hell. You will understand why when you listen to me play. That reminds me of a joke: 

“I got my neighbour to lend me his trombone.”
“But you don’t play the trombone.”
“I know. And now he doesn’t, either.”

I did my did my usual stint at the Church shop. I bought the entire inventory again and Sister Mary Fruitloop  paid for the copy of the Sistine Chapel she had taken last Sunday.  We were the only customers. I could have saved myself $2016 by becoming an atheist. It was the last Sunday for the priest, Father Offthebetta. He is off to Himatangi to convert some old guy he knows. I gave him a Mexican wave as he left in his car. It must have distracted him because he ran over Sister Mary Fruitloop on the way out. Never mind, she wanted to be a martyr anyway.  Father Offthebetta seemed nice enough, but his jokes were very hard to understand with his Filipino accent. And his lisp and harelip.
He told one today which I didn't really get.  He said "Recently I came back from Vatican City where I have realised that angels are real. One of them offered me to show the path to Heaven and I agreed. Sadly, she charged me 50 Euros for the session."

I really do not think jokes are always appropriate at Mass where Jesus and all the angels in eternity are joining in celebrating the sacrifice Christ made for sinful man. Then coming to each of us in person in the Holy Eucharist. It is so humiliating receiving Jesus, particularly when it's not oral.


Anyway later I  bulldozed the front section and relaxed while playing with my new 'bone'. TROMBONE