Oh, Nelson, nostalgia can be a fickle thing. For me, most of the time, it’s a wonderful pool of warm memories I love to splash around in. But I think we’ve all had those conversations where we mention some band or musical act or TV show or something and we snort derisively and laugh at how stupid we were for enjoying what we did when we were younger and less wise than we clearly are now. I’m not gonna lie, Nelson. I’ve probably done it when talking about you. But for the life of me, I no longer understand why I’ve ever snorted derisively about the pop culture of my youth, whether it’s you or some other act that unfortunately faded into obscurity. This is a damn good song, Nelson, and I listened to it all the damn time when I was a kid, and sure, maybe your tight pants and leather jackets made you look like displaced cowboys from the future, but Lady Gaga wore a dress of meat, so who are any of us to judge? Plus, absolutely everyone was jealous of those silky blonde locks of yours. Bottom line, no more turning my back on any of my radio friends. Next time someone makes a snarky remark about your music, it won’t be this guy, and I’ll stand up for you just like you did in the Wild West of the future.