Happy New Year, meet the new boss, same as the old boss

I've been laid up with something fluish for the past three days, which has afforded me ample time to consume lots of Top Ramen, slog from my bed to my big chair and back dragging my Linus blanket, wade past wadded up and soggy Kleenexes, read Maeve Binchy, and watch endless replays of "VH1's 100 Greatest Hard Rock Songs," which is perfect for a contagious, loogie-hacking invalid with a fevered, short attention span for many, many reasons.

First, Bret Michaels needs to give thanks to VH1, every minute of every day. Not only are they getting him laid on a regular basis (I know, eew), but he is apparently now on their payroll. Do you think he's doing it for the Viacom health benefits? Or because they are buying his wigs?

Second, i realize that the current generation won't have retrospectives like this because no one's making filthy rock and roll any more. (I'm still wondering how f**king CREED made the list -- huh?) I mean, honestly, the biggest rock albums of 2008 were by, ahem, AC/DC, Motley Crue, and Guns n' Roses? Hello? I'm finally to the final hour, and it's fairly certain that the top 5 will include something Zeppelin-ey, Ozz-ey and Van Halen-ey.

Third, it's really fun to see some of the people VH1 exhumes to comment on the various songs. An unrecognizable Billy Squier, looking disturbingly like Kevin Cronin; Sebastian Bach looking like they just pried his lips off the bicycle pump he was using to self-inflate; Nikki Sixx looking, well, hot; Lita Ford, who apparently made some sort of deal with the devil she looks so good; and, inexplicably, Kip Winger. I know, who?

And the number 1 Hard Rock song? "Welcome to the Jungle."

Rock on, bitches.