Maybe tomorrow. Today, Mike's got to bash jazz.
Panel 1: We start off with Phil playing his trumpet to the same sort of underwhelmed and dead-eyed children he'll end up teaching (Mike and Lizzie, to be specific.). The fact that we see stuff like PHWEEP-BLA-PA-DA-PA floating in the air instead of musical notes tells us one of two things; either Phil is a lousy trumpet player or Lynn hates music.
Panel 2: We see a panel filled with Rattica-tatta-taa. The ungodly racket has spooked Farley and bored Elly's helpless children.
Panel 3: As he gives an unimpressed Mike an unwanted pat on the head, he asks his jazz fans if they want to hear blues, pops or bee-bop next.
Panel 4: Since Mike says that he's drowning out Sesame Street in a tone that suggests that the big meanie was being mean by playing trumpet when Big Bird was on, I'd say "none of the above" was his choice.
Summary: Mike doesn't know much about music but he knows what he likes: bugger-bloody-all. He hates Elvis to this day because his parents' listening to the Man from Memphis cut into his time sacking out in front of the idiot box.