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Most Popular
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Being Tron Guy Meet the man inside the glowing spandex unitard
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Battered woman becomes American refugee in Amsterdam Her husband beat her, so she couldn't let him take custody of their kids
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A new wave of gay seminarians prepares to take the pulpit The Lutheran church struggles with its policy on homosexuality and the meaning of "all God's children"
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Tim Pawlenty: Governor No Tim Pawlenty racked up more vetoes this year than any governor in Minnesota's history. Is this the man we want to be vice president?
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A Guide to the 2008 Fringe Festival Underpants, Shakespeare, and Giant Squirrels
Blogs
RNC Schedule: The Outside Scoop!
Thu Aug 21, 11:51 AM
Why do American Indians in Minnesota have higher cancer rates?
Thu Aug 21, 9:40 AM
The Cylon Tea Was Created By Man
Thu Aug 21, 1:34 AM
Pig Roast
Wed Aug 20, 6:42 PM
Get your nerd on for cheap
Thu Aug 21, 4:35 PM
Update: Laughing Liberally find local
Thu Aug 21, 3:58 PM
Hope Solo: All clear, kid
Thu Aug 21, 10:17 AM
Things I learned at the Twins Game
Tue Aug 19, 12:13 PM
Joystick Division Roundtable: Bionic Commando Rearmed
Wed Aug 20, 5:59 PM
The Unthinkable Has Happened
Wed Aug 20, 10:04 AM
A kept man: McCain's wife owns so many houses, he can't remember them all
Thu Aug 21, 11:12 AM
Why not Hillary? A new case for Clinton as VP
Thu Aug 21, 11:00 AM
National Features >
Village Voice
The Harrowing Adventures of President Obama
Looking back on his first term.
By Roy Edroso
SF Weekly
Crashing the Tiger House
A studio apartment in San Francisco now costs $1,700 per month. Hence the madness.
By Ashley Harrell
The Pitch
Morrison's Mistress
How a woman in a leopard-print mini-skirt brought down the Kansas attorney general.
By Justin Kendall
Westword
Rise of the Flobots
What to do when your friends become rock 'n' roll stars? Go along for the ride.
By Adam Cayton-Holland
Bret Michaels
By Geoff Cannon
Published on December 26, 2007
Let's face it, New Year's is a crap holiday. You're obliged to have such a mind-blowing great time that anything less feels like a failure—you will have no need of anything except a good time, as the song goes. Nothing fits better for a mandatory night on the hedonic treadmill than the adolescent undeath of hair metal embodied in the VH1-enabled career of Poison chanteur Brett Michaels. I shouldn't be such a grinch: At this point he's a comforting rebuke to the punk ideal of perpetual revolt—nothing ever goes away. It's almost midnight! Talk dirty to me! I want action! If not, there's always next year.
Mon., Dec. 31, 9 p.m., 2007
Mon., Dec. 31, 9 p.m., 2007
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