Dead DJs Don't Spin

In the bathroom hallway, which has a 2 watt bulb lighting it, some girl who was slightly more intoxicated than me was standing ahead of me in the two-person line. With no warning, she launched herself against the wall we were facing, pounded her fist against the flier that was on said wall, and yelled, "Oh my God!!!" (Ok, she was a lot more intoxicated than I was).
"Errr....what?" I had to ask.
She slowly turned her head towards me, in an almost ominous manner, and said, ""DJ AM? He's dead, isn't he?"
The flier was advertising some DJ night at the bar, and someone named DJ AM Gold was "headlining." My brain spun through its Rolodex of dead DJs and stopped on DJ Cam.
"I think DJ Cam is the dead one." I said this is normal, conversational tone. No snark, no snottiness. I wasn't even sure if I was right, but I knew she had to be wrong because dead DJs don't spin.
She glared at me for a second, pulled her still clenched fist off of the wall as the bathroom she was waiting for became available, and before she went in she mustered up about 15 tons of shittiness and said, "PSH! Sorry I can't READ!" and then slammed the bathroom door behind her.
What? Even my mental Rolodex was all, like, "Wait, what?"
I finished up my lackluster date and went home. Later on I looked up the dead DJ. It wasn't DJ Cam (sorry, homie) but was DJ AM. So, she was half-right, I was close, and she was still a psycho.