I Drank Some Red Bull
I love Red Bull. My childhood hero was sponsored by Red Bull. I painted my racing helmets to feel like I, too, was sponsored by Red Bull.
As far as I’m concerned, Red Bull can do no wrong. Someone could find a severed gonad in a can and that wouldn’t decrease my brand loyalty one bit. If Red Bull had an IPO, I would paint myself red and run across the trading floor.
There are new Red Bulls now. I was originally going to score and rank each new flavor, but then I realized that to do so would be like a mother writing yelp reviews for each of her offspring. I love Red Bull too much do that.
Instead, I will say something nice about each one. Except for the Orange Red Bull, which tastes like something Monster would make. In fact, they did make it, and they called it Khaos Juice Monster. Orange Red Bull tastes like something you might drink if you lived in a trailer, is what I’m trying to say. Disclosure: I am long $MNST
Yellow Red Bull. Dericious like a sweet trip to Aruba, or a can of pineapple juice. But like an island vacation, it’s not something you should indulge in every day.
Cherry Red Bull. Fresh and primary nose with a refined mouthfeel. A clean and nonintrusive variation on the original, but with more thrust and minerality and a sweet tannin finish.
Red Red Bull. Cranberry flavored. The perfect deliverance to a rough day, just like the cans of cran-apple juice we get on airplanes.
Blue Red Bull. The Belvedere of Red Bulls, this is what you would get if you distilled the finest essence of all other Red Bulls and captured it in a can.
Original Red Bull. Can’t beat the real thing. As much as I enjoy the new flavors, I will always return to the familiar. Red Bull, you don’t need colorful gimmicks to get my attention. At the end of the day you’re selling sugar water, I know that, and I pay for that sugar water because your brand has transcended the product. It’s not about you, it’s about me. As a human in a disconnected world I want to distinguish myself, and I drink your brand because the brand is evidence of my identity, because deep down inside we all feel a little bit inadequate and maybe if we associate with a cultural icon then everything will be all right and life will somehow just work.