I try to nudge you awake. “The Nineties are back,” I tell you, but it’s not enough to save you. It was never enough to save you. Now I listen for you on the radio, your electronic voice phenomenon hidden in the static somewhere between 103.7 and 103.9 on the FM dial. I thought I heard you once in the dead air after a Goo Goo Dolls song and smiled. “Nothing but the hitsss,” you hissed from a location far beyond the grave.