Three times a lady

You know who rules?

Lionel Richie, that's who.

Forget all of this recent media noise around what's-her-name, his no-talent offspring, and travel back with me to a less cynical and tawdry era, a time of "Say You, Say Me." A time of "Running with the Night." A time of junior high school dance anxiety and Kasey Kasem countdowns and boom boxes with dual tape decks.

There was Lionel, in all of his sweater-and-collar-shirted glory, reliably belting out the great love songs of the decade: "Penny Lover," "Truly," and the mother of all weepers, "Hello." Remember the video of the blind woman who made a hunky Lionel sculpture out of clay? You know that you do! Don't lie to tiny dog!

Remember how you thought of that boy from home room every time "Endless Love" came on the radio? How, (admittedly, along with Phil Collins' "Against All Odds") you sang along with it -both parts- into your hairbrush, until your brother saw you and called you a Total Stupid Idiot? Did this song not blow its fellow super 80's duets like "Islands in the Stream" clear out of the causeway? (Wait, I just looked up "causeway" and that doesn't make sense. But surely, you know what I am getting at.)

And before this even was Lionel at the very zenith of his powers, as a member of the mighty Commodores, performing pop music's finest-ever kiss-off song: "Sail on." Behold: "I know it's a shame / But I'm givin you back your name." Ouch! One can only hope that Britney has the moxie to cover this when she gives K-Fed the heave-ho.

You and I know that, aside from the dubious sap of "Ballerina Girl," there is only one true stain on the fabric of Lionel's storied career, and that is, "Dancing on the Ceiling." I will never forget a high school football game I was once dragged to by a friend: there I was, freezing in the bleachers of the rival high school, with teens all around me sipping liquor cabinet mixtures in plastic Coke cups, while we all watched horsey, thick-calved cheerleaders do a tandem-stomp routine to this song, complete with jazz-hands.

But never mind: never mind. None of this will taint the timeless kettle-drum glory of "All Night Long."

Sail on, Lionel. Sail the %$#@ on.