He was born a poor urban boy, in the backwoods of Washington DC. The only thing his father ever gave him was a Fender Strat, a trust fund, and dog-eared copy of the Kama Sutra. After blowing all his cash on buxom groupies and totaling his Ferrarri, he left for the hills of Kentucky to eke a living as a hard-scratch farmer.
It was there, during the legendary Distillery Tour of the Summer of Woe, that he found enlightenment. Facing the wrong end of sawed off shotgun in farmer Jones' cornfield, he realized the error of his ways -- don't ever let them see you leaving by the back door. Only by threatening to drop a half full bottle of Bourbon county's finest spirits on the ground, did he manage to buy enough time to hightail it out of there.
Hitching his way down to Nashville, he got lucky with an heiress to the Jack Daniel's fortune, Henrietta von Tytebusch. It was a torrid, three week affair, but Kentucky Bourbon and Tennessee Whiskey are irreconcilable differences to some. Things came to a breaking point when, while praying to the porcelain god, he got an invitation to headline the Tartarus Tour.
Some say it was just a liquor induced coma, but Black Wolf Red knows that those demon succubae can rock.