Now for something a little bit different. Charlie Stout hammers out a hardcore juke-joint ballad to “The Last Rattlesnake in All of West Texas.” This country corrida spledorizes a bad mama-jama what pokes his head out of his hole on a Christmas morning (115 degrees), feels his oats (no F-150s in sight), and takes a bite of a passing tornado. Tune in to find out what happens next….

“The Beatles Fifth Christmas Record (1967)” does nae sa much celebrate the year that was, but contextualizes the mess of the latter ‘Sixties. (Laughter.)

Did someone ask about maryjane? “Green Butter Christmas” is no ‘Alice’s Restaurant,’ but Hilary Marckx employs the same storyteller schtick to explain why you didn’t get your presents in ’67 (the fat man was TOO high!).

The poignancy of the holidays punches up every memory. Hayes Carll tells the tale of Lola’s kid who went off to the War around Christmas, and all she has left of her boy from her bar she built in ’67 is the black velvet painting of “Jesus and Elvis.” Dixie home grown country pop, with a sudden outro.

The country jukebox boot stompin’ of “Six Tons of Toys” sounds pretty with the fiddling from Paul Brandt. But, me, i’m partial to the thrown away vocals and LesPaul fingering from Dave Dudley. That overload only sounds like big-rig trucking because it’s meant to. Still, it’s Santa with the twelve thousand pounds of kid-loot.

The Young Fables admit to an obsessive bent toward the holidays. In “OMG It’s December” they drink, sing, correspond, and decorate with Way More Lights than may be necessary. Purdy country twanging (the kind that cutely censors).

Failure to launch is better than failure at flight. Like Buzz Lightyear, Santa has to land–or fall with style. What’s the opposite of flying?

Hadley Park has a sweet if nasal country cutup “Santa Crashed His Sleigh in Our Garage.” Hope he got to you first.

Now reindeer in general are fine symbols of Christmastime, hailing from the Arctic so it’s always like winter when they’re near. Majestic but adorable. Neutral enough to be portrayed in any mood, in fact. Let’s have fun–in song–with this Xmas staple.

Was there a time “Back Before Santa Had Reindeer“? Wull, Chuck Picklesimer has a story to tell you in fine down home country style. Lissen up, young’n. (Fish?!)

Actual country strumming from Bill and ‘Shakey,’ unfolds the tale of “Woodolph (The Petrified Red-Nosed Reindeer).” He seems noble, but i’m suspecting this might just be a table lamp.

The ‘Rudolph’ song got as famous as the reindeer. In the annals of Xmas music it is Number Two of all songs. So, some took a shot at it (him).

I killed Rudolph–and I liked it! begins “Rudolph Burger… Hold the Nose.” The voice cracking metal from The Pork Guys is more defiant than murderous. So this gets only one shotgun shell.

Mighty Magic Pants rocks out “Rudolph on the Barbecue.” The childish innocence makes the mythivovre more horrible. Two shells.

Jesus Penis growls out the experimental garage rant “Rudolph the Red-Gutted Reindeer.” Ugh. Whatever shells.

Bullshark Comedy turns the worm with “Rudolph Shooting” in which the maligned venison buys a gun at Walmart. BLUE ALERT for this mass shooting ‘humor.’

Fortress of Attitude’s cowboy yarn “I Shot Rudolph and I’m Sorry” is an amazing genre send-up and gets all the shells.

“I Shot Rudolph” is the country stomper about the fraud perpetrated by Todd O’Neill. It warren’t him. Shells waived.

Vixen is adored, adorned, and adulterated–but she can take it. Unless she’s a he.

Cledus T Judd clears the barroom with twangy country in “Dang It, I’m Vixen.” Jealous of Rudolph, he’s looking for tail, but not reined. Holee cow.