TRASH CASKET

GREETINGS, maggots! You just found yourself in the best puddle of rancid slime on the internet, TRASH CASKET! So what the hell IS Trash Casket? Trash Casket is the world of the infamous CORPSE MONGER...so who the fuck is HE? Solid questions all, and I should SMASH YOUR FACE for daring to ask them instead of just letting this privilege wash over you like the divine wave of garbage water that it is, but I'll hold off...this time. First impressions an' all. 

Long story short, I am Corpse Monger. So why does that matter? Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't but either way introductions are in order, so let's get to it.

My human name, given at birth in the Apocalyptic year of 1983, is MIKE WASION. One of many as it turns out, as all of my uncles proved shockingly unoriginal (a trend which berserkly continues to this day, but I digress), so if you want to get technical, fine, fuck it, Mike D. Wasion. You're a real asshole, you know that? I'm starting to wonder why I even let you in here, but if you've come to pay tribute, I ain't lettin' you back out now.

I've popped up all over the goddamn place, from fanzines to websites to the sketch cards all the kids seem to like, I'm hidden in the "special thanks" section of the end credits of a certain video game (more on that another time), and did a little time in a couple bitchin' prozines you could find nestled in the racks of your nearest Barnes & Noble. 


MOST notably, during those days, I somehow managed to snag my own bi-monthly column in FANGORIA, the fabled, lamented COMIC CASKET (I know, me and caskets, right? Hell, most of us are gonna wind up in one some day, so we might as well get used to the word). Comic Casket was my own hands-on vehicle to dig deep into the rotting back issue bins of my youth, and unearth the greatest unheralded gems horror comics had to offer, and truly, this put me on a collision course with my current Terminator-like mission in life...creating horror comics MYSELF. 

These days, I get the dubious pleasure of working alongside the most twisted minds in comics under the roof of ROUGH HOUSE PUBLISHING, the pulp atrocity factory founded by the one and only DEREK ROOK (who's currently killing it on EIBON PRESS' Lucio Fulci adaptations ZOMBIE and the immortal GATES OF HELL...get dat shit while you can, suckas!). 

We've already put out some of the most obscene and deranged books known to man, and that was just the "you kids play nice" warmup to the REAL tide of filth we'll be unleashing onto you helpless bleeting masses in the coming months and years, so I'd stock up on penicillin before that Brian-Peppers-lookin' fuck Martin Shkreli jacks up the price. In case you missed 'em (and if you have, really, put down the lenticular-cover Batman book you're holding, hit puberty, and join the cool kids club...no, really, I'll buy you alcohol!), the newsprint nightmares we've induced thus far include THE DEAD OMNIBUS, the most perverse and horrifying zombie book...EVER (and it debuted in the 90s, no less!), and the resurrection of the mighty GORE SHRIEK, both books I handled writing chores on, primarily, amongst other dubious honors.

Both of these are actual little-kid-Mike fantasy projects that my "adult" brain never, EVER allowed itself to believe I'd pull off, but here the fuck I am, and I couldn't be happier...but I ain't done yet. Not by a long shot, pard'. What I've got up my sleeve for the next couple'a years would have had my teenage self rock-hard with disbelieving delight, and I'm willing to bet my prosthetic chainsaw hand that that will extend to you as well, my newfound friends. 

But, this isn't just a blog to whore out my wares...I mean, it very much IS that, but there's more to the equation. Much, much more. This blog is intended to be nothing short of the barf bag for my brain's vomit. This is the Hellraiser II labyrinth of my mind, given form in the internet age, the kid's-bedroom-junk-drawer of the ethereal plane, the trash-strewn alleyway of the ones-and-zeroes epoch. And I invite you all to bask in it...in fact, you no longer have a choice. I've taken you all hostage. This is the mere opening salvo, bunky...the Cliff's Notes version of unseemly stories you will hear, forbidden histories you will be regaled with, forbidden images to be seared on your retinas that you will never, ever be able to unsee. You will meet true friends who form my army...vile enemies will be hinted at in shame. And so, so very much more, this I promise you.

One day, you will tune in, and find a gibbering, borderline-psychotic review of some movie you're glad you've never heard of. Another day, you'll drop on by, and find me having a delirious, virtually incomprehensible flashback about how I never, not even for a second, thought Boglins could eat fucking peas back in 1987. And of course, you WILL hear about upcoming projects, both professional and personal, and I will splatter your face with art every chance I get. And it will give me an excuse to MAKE art, and keep making it, which is never, ever a bad thing.

So, welcome. Pull up a nice, plump trash bag. Settle in. Enjoy the ride. You're not going anywhere...you're going EVERYWHERE. And I'm behind the driver's seat, baby.

Corpse Monger...pleased ta meet'cha.