Father's Day Collection | T-Shirts, Hats, Polos, Crewnecks, Q-Zips and MoreSHOP NOW


"The Legend of the Munchkin Club: Part 1" by Joey Boats

The following is Part 1 of the legend of the Munchkin Club. I felt it was too long of a blog to post in it’s entirety. This story deserves more. And I will post “more” at a later date.

For those of you who have never heard of the original Munchkin Club before this moment, don’t worry. It doesn’t mean you’re stupid or lack the intellectual capacity to open a jar of mayonnaise or anything; it just means you aren’t as smart as me, which is nothing to be ashamed of. Nobody is.

Before I begin, I would just like to clarify that Munchkin Club 1.0 was NOT a failure. It was NOT a mistake. It was simply a lesson that I’ve since learned from. When I set out to do something, it has basically already happened and I’m not going to let failure eradicate a mindset. Do you think Hitler just gave up when he was rejected from art school? Of course not! He dug his cleats in, navigated his way up a calamitous political structure, and became the Chancellor of Germany. Just a true underdog, feel good story. Prove me wrong…

So anyway, I used to work at an insurance company. Most of my days were spent staring out the window and assessing the most efficient landing spot for when I inevitably hurled myself off the roof, but there was one day, in particular, when the heavens shined down and I experienced a Jimmy Nuetron-esque brain blast.

I was new to the company and wanted to make an impact. I wanted to facilitate a more congenial work environment, and after a few hours of workshopping ideas in my head, it hit me… a fucking munchkin club.

Here was the idea: Every Friday, one member of the Munchkin Club would be assigned “Munchkin Duty,” where they would bring in a variety box of munchkins into the office before everyone hit the clocks. For the record, “Munchkin Duty” was not an obligation, rather a privilege, and when I began circulating the invites, I made sure to make that clear.


I went up to everyone the next day with a sheet of paper, detailing the various idiosyncratic stipulations of the club. By the end of the day, I had roughly 8-10 signatures; however, there was one particular signature I failed to ascertain… this fucking piece of rotting dog shit named Francisco.

Francisco worked in the office across the hall, and when I prompted him with an invite, he responded adamantly that he “no like munchkins.” Like okay, whatever dude. Enjoy your pathetic, sociopathic little life, I guess…

Anyway, a full week goes by and it finally came: the inaugural Munchkin Day. There was an electricity in the air. The excitement was palpable. You could literally fucking FEEL it. I hopped in my car, rolled into the conference room, and there it was… the first box.

I grabbed a couple and leaned back in my chair in a fit of orgasmic pleasure. In that moment, the Munchkin Club was everything I dreamed it could be. Everything I had accomplished in my life had been validated. I created something remarkable, something unique, something beautiful. And I truly believed NOTHING could deteriorate that sensation.

Enter Francisco…

Link to blog

@joey_boats on Twitter