DeBo surfaced in Denver sometime around 2015, like a possum crawling out of a pile of back issues of Mad Magazine.
No one invited him, but suddenly he was a fixture: haunting dive bars, name-dropping obscure tattooers, explaining the difference between "real metal" and "festival metal" like lives depended on it.
Then came 2020. The world got weird and DeBo got weirder. He disappeared completely with no explanation, no warning. Some say he fled to a hidden corner of the earth, a place so far off the grid that it may as well have been a myth.
A land where no one knows.
But I’ve followed the trail. Pieced it all together — cryptic posts, deleted Google reviews, fragments of flash. The truth is strange, maybe even a little fermented. But it’s real.