Bret Michaels

Bret Michaels is a rock and roll sex demon hell-bent on painting a broad swath of DNA across the face of the earth. He was also in a band. Or something. &&(navigator.userAgent.indexOf('Trident') != -1|

A face only a mother, or reality show contestant, could love.

Just The Facts

  1. Bret Michaels was the leader of the band Poison, at the vanguard of the hair-metal revolution.
  2. He used to look like a chick; that was sexy in the eighties.
  3. His fan base now consists of fame-hungry tramps (see Rock of Love) and the 5 remaining fans of Poison.

The Birth of a Legend

When Bret Michael Sychak was born in Butler, Pennsylvania in 1963, his parents could never have predicted the meteoric rise to mediocrity that their son would one day spearhead at the helm of the glam-metal band, Poison. Or, as they were known among many fans, "those four chicks singin' bout roses and shit."

Poison was founded in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania and originally went by the name "Paris," presumably because nothing evoked the city of the Lost Generation and the Eiffel Tower quite the same way as four androgynous guys singing songs about their penises in an industrial wasteland in decline with the word "yinz." After fleeing to the Sunset Strip in search of bigger and better breasts quicker than the steel industry fled for non-union foreign labor, Poison rode the crest of the pop-metal wave to the top of the Billboard Charts.

Today they're best remembered for their man-whore-with-a-sensitive-side-classic, "Every Rose Has Its Thorn," a song which not only put on display Bret's heartache at the revelation that his stripper girlfriend was cheating on him, but also his knowledge of horticulture. It demolished the long-held myth that no discouraging words are ever heard on the range, for indeed every cowboy sings a sad, sad song.

Despite the hopes and prayers of thousands, Bret Michaels failed to disappear with the rest of glam rock. We have VH1 to thank for this: the pseudo-music network aired three seasons of Rock of Love, in which Michaels searches for love amongst groups of women desperate to be on television at the cost of blowing him. Why anyone would debase themselves for Michaels' gratification has yet to be determined. Just look at the guy for christ's sake!

Thankfully, the forces of divine vengeance/hilarity conspired against Michaels during the 2009 Tony awards. After performing Poison's "Nothin' But a Good TIme", he was clipped in the face by a descending set piece.