My friend Mark turned me on to this fascinatingly sick Web site called findadeath.com.
It's packed with fascinating/useless information about celebrities' deaths. The guy behind the site, Scott Michaels, is from Detroit and attended the same Divine concert in '86 as my friends Mark and Nina (oh, that's just the kind of useless information I was talking about!).
Here's how Scott explains his fetish:
Growing up in Detroit, I lived on one of the most dangerous intersections in the city. Fatal accidents were normal. There was a family ritual -- when we were jarred awake from our slumber by that horrible noise of a car accident. One would call the police, one would grab the towels, etc. One night while I was asleep, a car hit a lamp post in front of our house. I heard the sound of slamming brakes, the impact, and the live wires of a fallen street light zapping away. I got out of bed, looked out the window, yawned, and returned to bed. You get the idea. The first celebrity deaths of any real recollection to me were Martin Luther King and Janis Joplin. When Florence Ballard of the Supremes passed away in 1976, I became obsessed.
WHERE TO BEGIN: The entries on Glenn Quinn (Becky's dense hubby, Mark, on "Roseanne") and Jessica Savitch are particularly good.