Call me obsessed, but the second thing I do every morning (after cursing my alarm to Hell) is lunge for my phone to check my text messages. In the sincerest act of vanity, I nearly set fire to my screen as my thumb races to and fro, checking with the utmost diligence to make sure I didn’t miss any action. But on Monday morning, I stumbled upon a message from my best friend, sent at 3:25 a.m., that stopped me dead in my tracks: “The singer of GWAR died :(”
