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Tripp was genetically engineered in a laboratory in Florida. He cut himself from the womb with a ka-bar so he could put veteran’s day on his birth certificate and forever have the day off work. He then ran away to be raised by badgers at the gates of Tartarus. After watching the Battle of Fallujah on TV he promptly joined the Marine Corps as a combat cameraman so he could steal the souls of those killed by the Marines he was with. He deployed to Afghanistan with 2/7 and 3/4 in ’08, and ’09-’10 respectively, then went on a couple of MEUs so he could drink on the ocean and anger sailors by calling their ship a “boat.” Tripp spent his decade in the Corps drinking rum, crushing the hopes and dreams of mortals, and chain smoking. He has multiple awards for books he hasn’t even written, once deadlifted a battleship, outwitted a sphinx, knows Vicky’s secret (it’s that she has a penis), is an award winning photographer, and at all times has been the best guitar player in the barracks. Did I mention he’s handsome and has a glorious beard? He’s a great storyteller, specializing in science fiction fairytales and bullsh*t. About the only thing he doesn’t have is a TV show based on his books (looking at you Netflix.) He hopes that you enjoy his books, and buy more so he can spend your money it on cigarettes, strippers, and booze.
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