YES

Yoko Ono’s very cool bed has been discussed here previously, and we have, perhaps, at least alluded to our love of the American school of minimalist composers. But did you know that there was a link between the two? Yes. In 1960 in New York City, Yoko practically invented the idea of holding performance art happenings in grungy downtown loft apartments along with seminal minimalist and heroic piano player LaMonte Young. According to the book we have just finished reading (Minimalists. K. Robert Schwarz. Phaidon), LaMonte was not, at least in those days, the grumpy recluse that we have always pictured him. No. Apparently he was the life of the party.

Anyway, Yoko was also a member of Fluxus, the übercool NYC group of performance artists. At one show of hers, she had a piece that consisted of a stepladder. At the top there was a magnifying glass with which one could read the tiny piece of type on the ceiling, which said, “Yes.” John Lennon met her at that show. When he saw that word, he says he felt relief.

Why are we telling you all this? Because today we are hopping over to Toronto to see an Yoko Ono retrospective at the AGO. Called Yes.

Have we mentioned to you that Yes is our favorite word?

A snippet of an e-mail exchange from yesterday with Cacomixl:

Cacomixl: Enjoy Yoko! Any audio? I’ve never been to the AGO. I hear it’s great though.

MPB: I suppose so. I’ll go. You know?

The Killer is also professing an interest in Yoko Ono, but we suspect she’s actually just in it for the shopping. So if you miss us in the AGO, check Pottery Barn.

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OH, OKAY; IT’S THIS:

I eat meat now.

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THE BIG ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THOSE WHO KNOW US PERSONALLY

...Yes. We will be making this announcement today. Yes. A little later, though. Why don’t you cool your heels for a couple of hours and then check back?

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THE ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THOSE WHO KNOW US PERSONALLY

...will be, I think, tomorrow.

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THE DELUSIONS OF CROWDS

Say, is it just me, or does this whole RRSP thing positively reek of mass hysteria?

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A SPECIAL MESSAGE FOR THOSE WHO KNOW US PERSONALLY

Mango Pudding Blues is intended primarily for the reading pleasure of those who do not personally know its creator. Okay? For those readers who arrive without the messy baggage of prior knowledge of the personality, the behavior, the hang-ups and the preferences of the man behind the curtain. The idea here is that whatever joys may be squeezed from this mango are intended to be purely based on what is here, and only what is here.

Nevertheless, some personal friends of ours and some family members also are known to check in, and they are very welcome here. And it is for them, today, that we say this; In a few days we will be making an announcement that will cause you to gasp with glee.

Seriously.

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HELLO ASIA

Whooo! Glad that’s over! A big shout out to the seven readers who are still visiting this site. We would like to assure you right now that we have no further anecdotes about squash or our penis.

Okay. Hi. Welcome to Mango Pudding Blues, ladies and gentlemen. We’d like to extend a special welcome to our readers in Asia. We get readers from Japan, Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand, the Philippines and more. We especially greet our readers in Singapore, where we are considered something of a folk hero for some reason. Singapore readers; please do not despair. Please hang in there. We like you.

Furthermore, over in Oceania, we even had one reader, one time last week, whose IP address placed him (or her) as a resident of the tiny Polynesian nation of Niue, population 2,100. Okay, our Niueian reader only came by once, and probably by accident, but still, that makes Niue the nation with highest percentage of Mango Pudding Blues subscribers, at a rate of, what, .0476 per cent? Our numbers are impressive in Niue. We have a higher percentage penetration in Niue than, like, Letterman has in America. We are famous in Niue.

We have not yet decided what to do about our Niuean popularity. We are considering holidaying in Niue. Not this year, though. This year we’re goin’ to Barbados, where we have no readers.

Of course, it’s possible that the whole thing is a mix-up, and that our reader from blahblahblah.nu actually just bought the URL suffix from an enterprising Niuean government. Didn’t the tiny nation of Tuvalu cash in by selling “.tv” to vapid Los Angeles television marketers? Maybe “.nu” has been salable to, like, hip-hop record companies for whom the word may indicate “new”, as in dope or phat or whatever. Perhaps we have less penetration in Niue than we thought. Nevertheless, we are bullish on Niue.

As for our general success in Asia, it simply must be admitted that our name is likely responsible. We envision housewives in Jakarta searching for Mango Pudding recipes and instead being regaled with stories about our penis. Or maybe just searching for something else Mango-related and turning up here. We had a Mexican reader once, too, who may have stumbled in for similarly wrong reasons.

Whatever. We don’t care why they come. We just want them to come. Which brings us, at last, to our point; we don’t think you have been doing your job. We think you are taking and taking and never giving. We see you, some of you daily, some of you weekly, drinking freely from the well that we pump full every day with the sweat of our brow. Yes! Sweat! And all we have ever asked of you is to make us famous.

Yes, we have charged you, in the past, with harvesting new souls for us, and you have not done a particularly impressive job. Yes, you. Not you, Jane. But the rest of you! You are our minions, and your job is to bring in the readers. Not just any readers, either, but the rare, the refined, the clever and thoughtful and rich and influential members of the special demographic that has the guts, the brains, the fucking chops to feel what we’re doing here. How? We don’t care how! You figure out how. Be creative. Beg. Borrow. Steal. Employ trickery. Leverage whatever puny personal power you’ve got. But if we don’t see an influx of powerful new readers by the end of the week, we are going to be mighty peeved. And then, when we’re peeved, we will start crafting the exclusive list of people who will be allowed into the spectacular Mango Pudding Blues 3.0, see? And you know who won’t be on it? You, that’s who.

So get crackin’.

None of this applies to the superb, loyal reader who recently, generously sent MPB a subscription to Harper’s. That reader has delighted us deeply and may ignore our screed. That reader has done more to encourage Mango Pudding Blues, since the beginning, than all of you put together.

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