Christmas countdown: 270

Roger Creager admits “I Got the Guns” back around Christmas ’79. This rocking country codependency is as fetishistic as it sounds, ending with the list: Just and old bolt-action 16 gauge; And my grandmother’s 410; A 270 that my dad fired once–He brought a mule deer in. Woo.

Judging and smoking, Mr. Loaf fronts that he comes from the 270 in “Gingerloaf.” Could be Greensboro, NC. Could be Bowling Green, KY. Sure it’s the tough part of wherever, though. Christmas is not a bright spot in this rap.

Christmas Countdown: 300

Three hundred may be magic for bowling, but what else can we say about it? Sure, it’s a triangular number and the sum of a pair of twin primes (149 + 151), as well as the sum of ten consecutive primes (13 + 17 + 19 + 23 + 29 + 31 + 37 + 41 + 43 + 47) and, okay, it is palindromic in 3 consecutive bases: 30010 = 6067 = 4548 = 3639, and also in base 13. But other than that….

John the Singer invites you to drink 300 beers now that you’ve made it through the shitstorm of this year. BLUE ALERT “Merry Ducking Christmas” ducks no punches in an experimental garage kind of way. Sounds like how existential angst feels.

The Macc Lads get way more BLUE ALERT with their “Jingle Bells.” Sex is like breathing for these hardcore punkers. See, when Beater found 300 johnnies in his Christmas stocking We didn’t see him ’til New Year’s Eve. That’s 300 condoms in one week, mathematicians.

Jamie Callum’s “The Pianoman at Christmas” has got three hundred songs about Santa Claus under my fingers. This psychological study adds symphony to the lonely. Worth a listen.

On the lighter side, June Christy wishes you “The Merriest” for Christmas and the next 300 and some odd days. This swingin’ jazz easy listening needs listening to. It’s hep, cat.

Christmas Countdown: 318

Katy Shaw and the Search for the Stolen Secret leads to the Wilshire Hotel. Four Christmases ago the shenanigans of rooms 110, 200, 310, and 318 are discovered. (200 is the operative one, but i can’t wait.) Candice Price leads Paul Shapera’s number “Christmas in the City“–a wondering, wandering showtune of noir-ish regret. Haunting.