Clutter, clutter, clutter.

 I've noticed that the two old boys who post around here are going on about their clutter problems with art works they've acquired and antique furniture that they've bought second hand.

They think THEY'VE GOT PROBLEMS!

Check this out.

A violin that regularly takes up half of
our couch.

My practice book that lives in the 
living room.

Two of my four amplifiers.

The third amp. The fourth is in the 
bedroom.

Two double basses (one is still 
in bed).

Two guitars that share space with 
the two double basses and three amps
in the living room.

In the bedroom - another violin, 
the fourth amp, leads, microphones,
etc., etc.

But where are my five functioning bows?

A very good double bass bow lives in a drawer in the bedroom. Another very good double bass bow lives behind 'La Gloria' - my main bass (the other double bass is called 'The Bob').

Each violin case contains one bow and the other violin bow hangs on the wall in the bedroom.

There you go...

...and they're all staying with us.

It's a miracle!

 Roger appeared at tennis yesterday (way up north) and lots of people were pleased to see him. That's a miracle! More exciting than what happened in Fatima in 1917. Peter says that he was doing his best to be a nice curmudgeon, but then pointed out how his old opponents couldn't keep score. 

Trans Roberto, on the other hand, tells us that 40,000 people gathered to watch his miracle in Portugal. He even tells us that they had daylight saving back then in Portugal. Evidently Mary (the virgin) did something to the sun and then she evidently showed the children Hell. What a bitch!

I think I'll go with Peter's miracle.

It's Friday morning in Lower Hutt - because of time differences it's probably Thursday evening way up north. I wonder if Roger has showed up at Peter's place? I hope that the old curmudgeon is nice to him.

It's a quiet morning here in Wainuiomata. I'm playing at a funeral tomorrow - violin, trumpet and flugel horn - so there is practice to be done.

A flugel horn.

A flugel horn is much like a trumpet to play, though it has a different tone. I'll do a trumpet warm up pretty soon. The neighbours will enjoy that, if they're home,

Robert laughs.

I only practise trumpet for about ten minutes each day. Hopefully that keeps my chops in form.

I haven't done a lot of work on Project Violin 100 lately - I'm up to 21 hours. However, I do run over parts of the piece regularly and they're coming along nicely. 

That's it for today.

Ciao.

Heavenly bodies.

 Peter approached the tee off for the third hole. 

Peter always wore special gloves when he played golf.

He had extra balls that he'd scampered down to the creek to get, so a few bad shots were not going to matter. He hit the ball perfectly and it sailed straight towards the green. It stopped less than a metre from the hole. Peter turned to pick up his golf bag. Straight away he noticed a perfect painting of a seagull on the side of his bag. It was obvious to his artistic eye that no sketching had been involved. He removed a glove and touched the picture. It felt warm.

"Yeah, that's me." said a nearby voice.

Peter quickly turned, but all he could see was a seagull. No one else.

"Yes, that was me." said the seagull. "I'm the Holy Ghost, though these days idiots try to call me the Holy Spirit. I prefer Ghost."

"So, what are you doing here?" asked a rather shocked Peter.

"Did you know that I'm one of only four people in Heaven that have an actual body? There's Mary, Jesus, Richus and me."

"Wow, that's impressive." said Peter. "But why did you choose a seagull body? You could have been a beautiful young woman, or a brave lion."

"Well, I didn't get invited to ascend into Heaven, so I figured I'd have to fly. At the time I was living by the sea and a seagull seemed like a good choice. Maybe I should have gone with an eagle? Anyway, Catholic numbers are dropping, so we've decided to try to attract atheists. That's how you managed such a good shot."

"Well, I would have been more impressed by a hole in one."

"I wasn't sure whether or not you were trying to avoid that little hole. I've never played this game. It's hard for a seagull to hold those big hitting things."

Right there and then Peter's shot at salvation was lost.

Okay, I've decided to ascend to Heaven.

 Bye.*

* And don't call me Richus the Arab, Trans Roberto.

Robert(o) given dispensation from Hell, just like Father S.

 

Thanks to a pardon by Richus Christ.

This is a very lucky break for Roberto Testore, the trans guy who took over an identity used by Richard (of RBB). Roberto gets to live on and learn from his sinning. Unfortunately, for The Curmudgeon, it's still eternity in Hell. Well, he did make his fortune by stealing and selling communion hosts. 

Peter (aka The Curmudgeon)
in 1966.

Some sins cannot be forgiven. Hey, but at least Brother Benedict and Brother Leon got off scot-free.

Them's the breaks.

"Hey, overall I'm enjoying Heaven.
That Mr. Linford is a bit of a bore though."

Posts for Peter and Robert(o) goes all out Italiano.

 Okay, this is a very old joke, but not as old as Peter's last post.

Lynn says to Peter, "Are you guys still writing posts? It seems to have been a bit quiet lately."

Peter replies, "Yes, I'm just heading down with the trailer to get some more."

For some reason Robert made a trans decision and became Roberto Testore.

"Ora io sono un gazzo!"

Riccardo Testore was a name used on Facebook by Richard (of RBB) for many years but, for some reason, Robert(o) stole it. Admittedly, his post giving a musical version of Peter's 'opera' post was very well done. However, to add injury to insult, he changed the word 'cazzo' to 'gazzo'. 

What do I do? Maybe I'll change my name to Richus Christ. My blog could rewrite Christianity! Hey, I could also rewrite all those parables! Game on!

Stay tuned Robert(o), there is more to come.

Richus, the saviour.

But, be warned, I can also be an angry god!

"It's off to Hell for you Roberto!"

'Damnation' - a musical by Richard (of RBB).

 -Overture-

[repetitive music leads the 'Robert' chorus out onto the stage]

Robert Chorus:

We're interested in stopping sin

To protect our nation.

We'll fight for any portion

Of no abortion,

Better to enter heaven maimed or minus a limb than

Spend eternity in damnation.

Better to enter heaven maimed or minus a limb than

Spend eternity in damnation.

[the chorus goes off stage right and Peter enters wearing a funny cardigan from the left]

Peter sings:

I thought old age would be easy but

Now it's getting hard again,

I dressed my best, I did my best,

But Lynn didn't like my cardigan!

I dressed my best, wore a fancy vest,

But Lynn didn't like my cardigan.

[the Robert chorus re-enters singing]

Empty bin; look!

No foetus thrown in!

Go have fun boys, but

Just don't sin!

We hear that Lynn's not happy,

Peter should send her a card again,

Write a loving message,

Just don't wear that cardigan!

We love you Peter,

Hey, take a break.

We love you Peter,

For Pete's sake!

[the curtain comes down to rapturous applause]

Peter is so pleased with his performance
that he bites his lip. He'll try to sell the cardigan.

 

Sometimes it pays to shut up and be a calumnious member of the fancy suit brigade.

 

Peter hopped out of bed. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, so all he needed to do was put his sandals on and he was dressed. Dressed and ready to go to town.

Looking over his shoulder
to see who is impressed
by his casualness.

He'd been to the opera last night and had worn long trousers, a shirt with $50 in the pocket and dress shoes. He'd worn his usual attire (t-shirt and shorts) to bed and now he was fully dressed in almost an instant. He had a 3P* and cleaned his teeth.

Peter knew that The Old Girl would say, "Matey, you're not going out in Auckland dressed like that!" but he had memorized a phrase that he planned to hit her with. "I'd rather be a naive member of the casual dressers than a calumnious member of the fancy suit brigade."

Peter liked the sound of that. 

Unfortunately, The Old Girl was not impressed and he had to change his clothes.

He checked that the $50 was still in the pocket of his shirt. Maybe a latte would help? 

He smiled as he remembered asking for a latte in Italy and getting a glass of milk. The opera had been in Italian last night. Luckily he knew the story - he'd sat through that opera a few times before. Peter did think that it would have been easier if the opera had been in Latin.

"I'd rather be a naive speaker of Latin than a calumnious bloody Italian speaker."

Like his casual clothing choices, Peter had a tendency to wear things out, and this phrase he had picked up was no exception. As he and The Old Girl sat sipping their lattes, Peter threw in, "I'd rather be a naive sipper of lattes than a calumnious member of 3G in 1966."

In a stern voice The Old Girl told him that he was becoming a bit of a bore. For some reason Peter thought of Richard's mother.

Peter started to say, "I'd rather be a naive bore than..." He yelped as his partner poured hot latte all over his crotch. 

* that's what guys from his old 1966 class called a trip to the bathroom

I read this somewhere recently...

"I'd rather be a naive member of the elect than a calumnious member of the damned."

Calumnious?

Adjective: In a statement this word means false and defamatory; slanderous.

I assume that this statement might be about atheists.

"I'd rather be a slightly thick member of the chosen than a bloody atheist who is going to Hell to burn forever."

I guess that a slightly thick member of the chosen would be following along blindly and doing whatever he was told.

"It's a good idea to tell atheists that you love them. That will really get them confused!"

Okay, time to hear from God.

"Okay, first thing, why do you always represent me as being old? Please understand that I DO NOT AGE! This is more like how I look...

Okay, okay, I don't need the gun but, if I did, I could change water into a gun. My representatives on Earth tell you that you have to have faith and believe that I exist. I think that it's time to get past all this nonsense. I will prove my existence. 

As from tomorrow, New Zealand time and starting at midnight, I will make all guns, missiles, tanks and other war equipment useless. Guns will not fire, anywhere in the world, missiles will just sit on their launch pads like the posts of a fence. All knife blades will be like very soft rubber. Can I really do all this? Not a problem for an almighty God like myself. 

Let me tell you that those 'calumnious' atheists have shown much more sense than you silly Catholics and believers in other gods and they will be rewarded!  I'm replacing that silly old pope with an atheist lady and you WILL be expected to listen to her! Come on! I won't be sending anyone to anything like Hell! Who do you think I am? Satan? And, talking of Satan, let's give Lucifer a break. He's a nice guy. We were only fooling around with that 'war of the angels' thing. 

Okay, open your eyes tomorrow morning and you'll see a few changes that will show you I am real. All those really bad diseases? Gone. Global warming? Gone. However, I will have to teach you all a few lessons. Especially the Catholic clergy. We're going to make this world a nicer place to live in. Hey, and don't worry about going to church. I'll fix it so that I can appear to you on your phone. 

Lastly, I'd like to thank this wonderful blog, Richard's Bass Bag*, for giving me a chance to speak to you without all that Catholic ceremony with men wearing dresses and watching altar boys get changed. I should make it compulsory for everyone to read this blog or get a mortal sin added to their life history, but we've got to get away from all that nonsense. Anyway, this blog is the nearest thing I have to a church. And, just for the record, I had nothing to do with writing that silly bible. Enjoy tomorrow."

* the original bass bagging site

A quote from Peter 72:8.

 Peter 72:8

Jesus called out to Judas (who was still in favour at this time), "What is that? It looks like a pit full of rum."

Judas replied, "That's what we call a rum pit. You see, those barrels are full of rum"

"No, no, no." retorted Jesus, "Rum, rum... Drum... Trum... I was thinking of a trumpet. Silly me. Trumpet. Can we give that a mention in the bible?"

Peter was standing nearby. "Sure." he answered. "A trumpet will save many situations many years from now. See what you think of this idea. In the southern lands a man named Richard picked up his trumpet. He was cold because there was no source of power in his dwelling. He held it up as an act of defiance against being cold and being without light. He blew a G, the second lowest harmonic on the trumpet. He held onto the note and was making it long when he became aware of another sound. Electric appliances (these will be invented much later) were 'coming on' and a little twirly electronic sound became audible like it was accompanying the trumpet. Richard tried a light switch (these are coming later too, for those who do not sin) and a light lit up. A miracle! A miracle caused by the trumpet. Richard knelt down and said, "Thanks be to the trumpet!""

"Isn't he supposed to thank me?" asked Jesus, looking a bit pissed off.

"We can write that in later." said Peter.

Dad jokes rule.

 My daughter has been away (Nelson) for work and said, regarding getting to work this morning, "I won't be rushin'."

I asked her if she would be Ukranian.

Robert laughs.

Our electricity is supposedly being turned off this morning and will be (could be) off until 5pm. Thank goodness that the three instruments I practise are all acoustic (trumpet, violin, double bass). Imagine if I was still practising bass guitar! 

Shelley and I intend to spend time in Wellington. They have coffee there, and heating. 

Robert's mate, whose name is similar to Tent Horn, tells us that il papa has fucked up again.

Evidently, he said something to the effect that there is only one god and that other religions sort of believe in the same entity. The guy whose name sounds like Tent was not impressed. Use the LINK on this blog (Tent Horn) to get to Rob's blog and check it out. Sounds like the Catholics might be squabbling among themselves.

I did two hours of practice yesterday - one hour on double bass and one on violin (which included half an hour on Project Violin 100). I also did about ten minutes on the trumpet. My goal is to do two hours (almost) every day. On both the string instruments I include practice on what I consider to be 12 vital things (especially for playing jazz). These 12 vital things include playing over m7b5 chords, a Coltrane diminished run, ways of using the rising form of the melodic minor scale over dominant 7th. chords and playing certain scales in all keys. 

I also do about ten minutes on the trumpet every day.

That's it from me for this morning.

Ciao tutti.

It's snowing in Wainuiomata!

 

Tennis was cancelled

And Peter sent home,

He did a quick blog post and

Went for a roam,

To somewhere up north

From elsewhere up north,

That was just a starter,

It's snowing in Wainuiomata.

You've got the heat pump on, right?

The rain's turning white.

All our hands turning cold,

It doesn't help that we're old.

Up north, where they dress in less

Old Pete's a bit restless.

He feels just like a martyr but

It's snowing in Wainuiomata.

Okay, okay, it's not really snowing in Wainuiomata, just heavy rain and hail and very cold.

Sorry to waste your time.

Jam time.

 

Four of the 5 musos present. Fran was also there, and the other muso doesn't like being in videos. Fair enough.

There were quite a few blues in E - the guitarists (2 of them) seemed to like that key. Blue Drag got played in A minor. We played Sweet Georgia Brown in G. Rob played drums. Fran sang. That's about it.

Oh yeah, and I didn't wear my hat, though we did do a few choruses of Get a Haircut, Pete.

Chorus

Going through clouds and sun,

Tramping through rain and sleet,

Keep that old boy on his feet.

Get a haircut Pete.

Silly hat competition.

 Contestant one:

Contestant two:

Notice the hair.

Hair's your chance to pick the winner.

Just leave a comment.

Silly Hat.

 In this world full of complexities one thing, one little thing, is clear.

Peter (aka The CurMUDgeon) does not like my new hat.

Well, he keeps mentioning his distaste for it.

Really, it's not the end of the world.

It looked like someone had pulled the plug on a huge hand basin. The water in Whangarei harbour was dropping in level rather quickly. Peter was standing on his deck. He'd gone out to inspect some wind damage.

Not the end of the world either?

A chair had been blown over by a sudden wind burst and now he could see that the harbour was draining. He also noticed that the sky was turning red and this redness was eclipsing the sun. There was a strange rumbling that seemed to be coming from the distant hills. Would the water come rushing back, like a tsunami, to wash his house off its foundations? This felt like THE END OF THE WORLD!

In the brief time that this assumption took to take over his thoughts, and the reality started to set in, there was no time to think, or be cynical, about Richard's hat. If Peter had had time to realize that, I'm sure he would have seen the pointlessness of his obsession, but no time for that now! A huge wave was forming. Big enough to block out the mountain range that was a distant part of his everyday view. 

No place to run, no place to hide. No time to wonder if Richard was wearing his new hat.

Sabato.

 I just read an article that says that 'il papa' is telling American Catholics how to vote. 

What he seems to be saying is vote to protect immigrants OR to stop abortions. In the end it sounds like he might see abortion as the biggest 'wrong'. 

Will Catholics follow his advice? Probably.

Trump is anti-migration, and Harris wants to change the abortion laws. 

Will the Catholics take it that they must go with Trump?

Holy Moses!

On a slightly brighter note, I played at a school concert last night. This expedition to play on one orchestral tune took up four hours. I was helping out the guys playing 4th. violin. There were three of us - two students and me. I couldn't see the music because my eyes aren't the best these days (I'm also finding it hard driving at night, especially in wet weather) and there was only one copy. What a waste of time that was! I'll have an excuse next time.

Tomorrow is Prowse Jam time. There have been emails going back and forth about a tune called Blue Drag. It has become a bit of a drag. Oops, that was a Peter style pun. Sorry. I don't know what else we're playing but it will be nice to catch up with everyone. 

Today, for me, is a day with no plans. Ah well, there's always a trip to the supermarket. 

I hope Rob's Sue is doing okay - she had a fall yesterday. I think I'll give him a ring.

"Ta ta for now." as people used to say in the old days.

I'd better do some violin practice so that I can keep up with the bros tomorrow. Maybe they'll put me on 4th. violin? Anyway, I can always wear Peter's favourite hat.

Richard's Bass Bag*, where you'll find the best jokes!

 Shelley said to me this morning, among other things, "They're expecting snow down south."

I replied, "That's like putting on a show."

She replied, "How come?"

I replied, "Snow business like show business."

Robert laughs.

Listen HERE.

Okay, okay, I'm not going to use up all my fabulous jokes at once. That'll have to do you for today.

It's a wet morning in Wainuiomata, where the girls are smarter.

Talking about girls, my daughter turns 40 in a couple of weeks. She's throwing a party and wants people to dress with a bit of style.

No problem for me.

After all, Style is my middle name!

The hat cost $6 at Pete's Emporium. It said on the label, "Size fits most."

At speech time I'm going to tell the story of the song I wrote called 'Nefanie'.

Nefanie was her first attempt, as a little one, to say her name, Stephanie.

HERE.

When she was a teenager, we were living in Tauranga. One morning I was doing some bass practice and she came out to sit in front of the heater. It was a cold morning. I was practising her tune. I said to her, "I wrote this tune for you."

She thought for a moment and then replied, "One of these mornings, if you don't shut up, someone's going to break that bass."

True story.

Well, I'll leave you there for today. I've heard that Peter intends to write a post this morning. I'll go and have a look.

Ciao.

* the original bass bagging site