Whamageddon, Mariahgeddon, and the Soundtrack to Our Collective Breakdown

As I sit here, listening to a sweet italodisco playlist, I start thinking about genres of music and then music in general. And eventually seasonal music…

Every December, millions of unsuspecting humans enter the most passive-aggressive endurance sport ever invented: trying not to hear Christmas music.

It begins innocently enough. You pop into the grocery store for milk. A distant jingle tickles the air. A choir hums. Then it happens; the unmistakable synth twinkle of Wham!’s “Last Christmas.”
Congratulations. You’ve been Whammed. Game over.

The Rules We Never Agreed To

Whamageddon’s lore is simple: from December 1st to midnight on Christmas Eve, avoid hearing the original Wham! version of “Last Christmas.” Covers are fine. Parodies are safe. But the moment George Michael’s silky sadness hits your eardrums, you’re out, doomed to post your defeat online with the #Whamageddon hashtag like a fallen soldier reporting in from the trenches of retail or restaurant hell.

But Wham! isn’t alone anymore. Enter Mariahgeddon, the sparkly, sugar-coated, chaos twin. The goal? Survive November and December without hearing Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” Easy in theory. Impossible in practice. Mariah is eternal. She defrosts on November 1st and dominates every public space until at least January 10th.

No one truly wins Mariahgeddon. You just delay the inevitable.

The Expanding Cinematic Universe

As with all things internet, it didn’t stop there. The fandom built sequels. Spin-offs. Multiverses.

• BandAidgeddon — You’re out when Bono shouts “Tonight thank God it’s them instead of you!” and suddenly you’re questioning the morality of charity pop.
  
• Bublégeddon — The moment Michael Bublé starts crooning about chestnuts, you’ve entered smooth-jazz purgatory.
  
• Christmaspocalypse — The crossover event. If you hear Wham!, Mariah, Bublé, and Band Aid in one day, you’ve reached the final boss level of seasonal despair.
  

It’s like Squid Game with sleigh bells.

Retail Playlists as Psychological Warfare

Let’s be honest: this isn’t about music. It’s about survival in the modern consumer ecosystem. These songs have transcended nostalgia and become ambient capitalism. You can’t walk into a shop without being ambushed by a chorus of forced joy and bell sounds that trigger Pavlovian spending reflexes.

They’re the sonic equivalent of tinsel: shiny, comforting, and slightly suffocating.

The real game isn’t avoiding the songs. It’s avoiding the slow realization that we’ve collectively soundtracked our own burnout. That every catchy hook is just another push toward the checkout counter, another dopamine hit wrapped in sentimentality and sleigh bells.

The Art of Losing Gracefully

Every December, social media fills up with the same ritual confessions:
“I made it to December 3rd this year.”
“I got Mariah’d at Starbucks.”
“My kid’s school concert Whammed me before breakfast.”

We wear our defeats like medals. There’s community in shared failure. We don’t survive Christmas music, but we surrender to it together, and maybe that’s the point.

Because in the end, Whamageddon isn’t really a game. It’s a reminder that, for better or worse, we’re all still humming the same songs.

And that might be the most human thing about the holidays.

Survive if you can. Sing along if you must.