Hello friends! Given that it's the holiday season I present to you the following gift: a three-paragraph recap of Christmas in Rockefeller Center, which was on my TV when I tuned in to start recapping The Biggest Loser. Don't say I never gave you anything!

Mariah Carey lip-synced beautifully, but given the cheerleaders onstage and the fact that she's pregnant with quadruplets, we can forgive her. Kylie Minogue killed and skinned the Abominable Snowman and proudly wore his pelt; the singing is best ignored. Boyz II Men still exist and lip sync really well in harmony. Whoever committed the Ashlee Simpson-esque gaffe of playing the Boyz II Men harmony vocals during the beginning of Charice's performance is now fired, and/or really hates Boyz II Men. David Foster is maybe Charice's Rene Angelil, in all senses. Charice is maybe an adorable robot, which makes that last fact slightly less creepy. I don't think she was lip-syncing, but can't say for sure. I mean, someone pushed play for a reason, you know?

Susan Boyle didn't look particularly like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, which I think is progress. Also, leave it to her to rock a boys choir. If NBC had replaced Sheryl Crow with Shelby Lynne, I would have forgiven everything else. Alas, that would not to happen. I actually kind of like Sheryl Crow, but another generic, watery version of "Blue Christmas" doesn't make me happy, and in fact can be that bad. The Katherine Jenkins/Jackie Evancho "Silent Night" duet...well, aside from visually skewing a little Toddlers and Tiaras, it was pretty impressive. Bitches can sing. Fucking Josh Groban. I had to fast forward for the sake of my own dignity. Though full disclosure: I was once in a bell choir. PTSD flashbacks galore, man. I love Annie Lennox more than I can properly explain, and so it especially pains me to say that her performance of "God Rest Ye Gentlemen" scared the shit out of me. I know she had some sort of really bad back injury, so maybe a cornucopia of Vicodin is responsible for her album cover. Shut up, Rockettes.

Jessica Simpson's singing has to make duet partner Petty Officer John Britt want to board the next plane to Afghanistan. It makes me want to board the next plane to Afghanistan. I would like her so much more if she didn't insist on occasionally assaulting my ears in this horrible fashion. She's normally awful, but so much more awful than ever when she sings Christmas songs. The poor Acton family chopped down their tree for this shit. And finally, Al Roker just does not look good skinny. Eat a triple serving of roast beast this year, Al!