
This didn’t start with a business plan. It all started with a joke.
December 2016. A prank gift — just a homemade poster of me, half-drunk and draped in Pabst Blue Ribbon glory as seen in the picture above. Something stupid for the holidays. But the town went apeshit. People begged for more. So the next year, I doubled down and dropped a full 12-month calendar: me, PBR, and a whole lot of poor decisions, one month at a time.
Thirty sold instantly. Then came the rest. For the next three years, I sold out calendar runs to people who couldn’t get enough of the madness. What started as a joke turned into a statement. A middle finger to normal. A celebration of chaos.
That’s when Down South Debauchery was born.
It wasn’t just about calendars. It was about energy. Grit. Getting loud and giving less of a fuck. I didn’t know where it was going, I just knew I was building something real — and it had nothing to do with staying inside the lines.
Then one night, sitting at a dive bar half-drunk and sweating through a wing-induced coma, it hit me: karaoke fucking sucks. Not always — but usually. It's too clean. Too tame. Too much waiting for someone’s big “moment” like we’re on The Voice. I wanted something messier. Louder. Meaner. So I grabbed a bottle of hot sauce and told people they had to down it before they sang. No chasers. No mercy. Just pain, panic, and a microphone.
That’s how Hot as Hell Karaoke came to be.
What started as a dumb idea in a dive turned into something wild. Packed-out bars. Screaming crowds. People traveling just to watch their friends melt down on stage. We’ve handed out thousands in cash, ruined vocal cords, sold out shows, and built something that genuinely shook up the scene. And we did it our way.
Hot as Hell Karaoke proved what I always knew: people want real. People want wild. And if you give them something worth remembering, they’ll keep showing up. But that was just the spark.
Down South Debauchery is more than a name.
it’s a lifestyle. This is for the ones who don’t wait for the weekend to raise hell. It’s beer-before-noon energy. It’s showing up loud, staying too long, and not giving a single fuck what anyone thinks.
We don’t follow trends. We don’t wait for permission. We build. We burn. We move. And we’re not here to grow quietly. We’re here to blow the roof off, bar by bar, city by city, night by night — until there’s no one left who hasn’t heard the name.
This is Down South Debauchery. And we’re just getting fucking started.