So this guy dies and goes to heaven, and while guiding him through the tour, St. Peter mentions there's a jazz band. The guy says, 'hey, I love jazz, I'd like to see that,' so they drop into a rehearsal.
All the greats are there - the guy just looks around bewildered at all the talent in the room. Someone calls out a tune and the band starts up and it's incredible - all the styles somehow fit together, and once the solos start it only gets better. Everyone is nailing it, and the guy just stands there with tears rolling down his face, it's so amazing.
Then this old looking bearded man the guy can't place steps up with a trumpet to take a solo, and completely flubs it. After a chorus, he steps back, looking satisfied with himself, and the drummer hollers for the outro. Band screams into the final chorus and plays the tightest ending the guy's ever heard. Once they finish, St. Peter taps the guy on his shoulder, and motions to head out.
When they're outside, the guy says, 'that was amazing! I never thought I'd get to see some of those people play! But who was the old man with the beard who took that last solo? I didn't recognize him.'
St. Peter rolls his eyes and says, 'oh, him? That was God. He thinks he can play.'