ël-No, the twenty-second

The intrinsic suppliers of the poverty paradigm involve shit-out-of-luck parameters that seem out of our control. No Christmas for you and your loved ones, ‘cuz–just ‘cuz.

Scott Anderson honky tonks the blue grass with his spiral into bad luck “Ain’t No Christmas Round Here.” It’s the usual country-western lament, but that banjo just keeps me from cryin’.

Yulenog blows smoky jazz lounge for the gambling addict who leaves it all on the table and “No Christmas” follows his sorry ass home. Pretty messy.

ël-No, the twenty-first

The unhappiest may not rejoice when the 25th rolls around. Get thee to the Ghetto and experience the lack of the black.

Harmonizing a lovely hymnal background The Realest YK rap out the message of the not-have in “Christmas Missed Us.” Spookily spiritual.

From the bad block Jae Tipps (BLUE ALERT) raps “Cancelled Christmas” as testimonial to the times. Poverty preach!

Wally Tusk has a cool Bandcamp folk stumble-growl about how no money means “No Christmas.” Brace yourself for the pain.

ël-No, the nineteeth

The hypocrisy of you insufferable, self-involved, unloving bastards celebrating Christ’s day makes us want to question whether we should even bother.

Young Haircut has a Bandcamp posting “Christmas is Cancelled,” an alt blues serving of mumble-grunge which grows to BLUE ALERT social consciousness. Dangerously rebellious ideas may be found herein.

“Christmas Cancelled” is also announced by Macka B with parang blame for you npn-Christians. Do it right or he’s taking his bell and going home.

ël-No, the eighteenth

Some of you don’t deserve a Christmas, did you stop and think about that, naysayers?! Sorry? It never crossed your mind? Then No Xmas, mister doubty-pants!

Sir Cliff Richard lends easy-listening schmaltz to a gospel reaching show tune in “Christmas Never Comes” for the kids not raised right. Season them, stat!

Soaring show tune paints the backdrop in “Christmas No More” by David Lyve. Sweet pipes. But, why so harsh on the Santa? Christian spirit, guy!

Eagleman Band glees up the barbershop sextet with all the fervor of the mild mannered missionary afraid of saying the wrong thing in mixed company. “No Christmas Day” is a lesson in how to lessen.

Try B-Shoc’s “There’d be No Christmas” instead, a power electric rap ballad that, if repetitive, brings the shivery soul you needed to remind your pagan butt to honor Hizzonor.

ël-No, the sixteenth

Overslept? You can miss Christmas that way. Ask Scrooge, he almost did.

Hungover and crashing hard, Masters of Stank (HEAVY BLUE ALERT) white rap “A City with No Christmas.” They can’t be bothered to even try to yule, though they do protest shrilly.

Too tired is the excuse Retro-Gamer Dave gives in his show tune romp “Why I Missed Christmas.” Pee Ess, he means the First Christmas. It’s a story.

ël-No, the fourteenth

P’raps a bad mood could scuttle the entirety of Christmas.

Rocket from the Crypt lists their troubles in “Cancel Christmas,” a pounding modern rock declamation against the box we got stuck in, man.

Billy Anderson goes full Grinch in the striking pop/blues new age “No Christmas in Whoville.” He doesn’t really mean it, though.

Haust (& Okkultokrati) does mean it. Screaming metal rage punctuates the dissatisfaction with the holidays in “No Christmas.” ARRGH!

Santa spirals in “Christmas Got Cancelled” by Dean Stanton, an affecting garage march into economic oblivion that swallows up the elves, the kids, and Frosty, too. No escape.

ël-No, the thirteenth

Out of respect, Christmas could be deleted should just the right obituary appear. Hang the stockings at half hearth, children.

Comic rap from Unckle Eddie tells the tale of shooting the wrong antlered animal in “Christmas was Cancelled.” Some twangy country swing backing that up, there is.

Closer to home, old Grandad has his in Moper’s “Christmas is Cancelled” an experimental rock ballad that’s worth the wait (and the Bea Arthur interpretive church dance). This is punk gravitas, people. (So, BLUE ALERT.)

“Christmas is Cancelled” graphically illustrates the drunken aftermath of sleighicular homicide with light childish showtune music hall humor. Get on board with The Royds, or off with you and your good taste.