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Schmucks slice through corporate nonsense like a machete through a trust fall. We don’t clap for bad ideas just because someone with a title said them. Our give-a-shitter didn’t just break—it caught fire, screamed, and leapt out a window.

Being a schmuck isn’t cute—it’s chaos. It’s asking, “Why are we doing this again?” and getting exiled for it. It’s getting kicked out of Slack channels for refusing to drink the branded Kool-Aid and repeatedly exclaim “LFG!” like we’re on some corporate point system.

That’s not rude. That’s heroic.

Since time began, schmucks have been the unpaid janitors of honesty—cleaning up the mess behind every LinkedIn-approved façade. But we’re done whispering. Done nodding.

We’re showcasing our contempt. And making merch.

For Schmucks isn’t just clothing. It’s emotional body armor. It’s how you say, “This is all nonsense and you know it,” without getting HR involved. A beacon for those who still have a pulse.

Let’s face it: the schmuck in your life—the one who won’t read the room because the room is undoubtedly on the darkest timeline—is the only one making sense.

Clothe or gift a schmuck with something worthwhile.

Don’t forget the schmuck in the mirror.