We know D.C. Get our free newsletter to stay in the know.
We get all kinds of unwanted crap in the mail. Yesterday, Amanda Hess got this package from Red Bull, advertising its latest product line — the Red Bull Energy Shot, these two-ounce poppers designed to give you a sugar-and-caffeine rush when, say, your boss calls for yet another hour-long, narcolepsy-inducing meeting. All of which is fine; I don’t have to buy or drink this product.
But Hess showed me the hand-written note that came in her package. It ended with this sentence: “Please share with Tim Carmen [sic], who is also a friend of Red Bull.”
Now, I didn’t take this note literally. I mean, I’ve never knowingly drank a Red Bull in my life. I considered this fraternal reference more like a facebook friendship, in which you horde all sorts of virtual “friends,” like a politician collects votes, in order to market to them, manipulate them, and generally convince them you’re one charming motherfucker. As such, I thought I should get to know my new friend better.
So I drank a Red Bull Energy Shot. Or tried to drink one.
It smells like cough syrup, and it tastes like cough syrup cut with SweeTarts and mixed with Kool-Aid. I’m sorry, but I expect more from my friends.