The jazz club feels better tonight in comparison to last night. The jazz group is ready to play. They respect the music, jazz club, and audience enough to dress nice – ties and suit jackets. The club fills to a comfortable level. Jesus shows up and I charge him and his cute Mary Magdalene each a five buck cover. I felt bad afterwards, but I figure if he’s all-knowing he already knew I’d charge him and that it was done to help keep jazz alive. If it wasn’t the J-man himself, it was a dang good impersonator—tall, slender, long-brown hair, beard, and benevolent eyes. Somewhere in between the quintet’s versions of Miles Davis C.T.A. and Charlie Parker’s Scrapple from the Apple, the club had its first Sikh visitors--two couples. None of them wore turbans, but the women wore traditional head scarves. It was confirmed that they are Sikh because the guys’ names on their charge plates end with Singh. Singh, from Sanskrit for lion, is an essential component of every Sikh male’s name. Historically, this was so ordained by Guru Gobind Singh on March 30, 1699. So, here we are 313 years later and the head honcho guru’s name is embossed on Visa cards paying for jazz-loving followers’ drinks. Pretty cool.