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Coca Cola’s Full Throttle Energy Drink is yum-may. It’s a wicked neon green and tastes like a liquid Sweet Tart. Also, the can is black and adorned with a tribal tattoo, so while you’re drinking it, people will think twice before they fuck with you. It helps is you’re carrying a gun, too. And twitching a bit.

Figure 1.1: Coca Cola’s Full Throttle is 1/8 gasoline

The claims of the can: Shockingly few. It simply notes the product name, that it is an energy drink, and that it’s made by the hardworking men and women of the Coca Cola Company (NASDAQ: COKE). Okay, just kidding about the ticker. There is one particularly unusual thing printed on the can, just above the bar code. It is a single word in all capital letters: REXAM. One can only speculate as to its meaning. I have several guesses, and as you might guess, one of them is really, really vulgar. Seriously though, it sounds like the name brand of a prescription-only anal suppository. See, I told you it was vulgar.

Scariest-sounding ingredient: “Glycerol Ester of Wood Rosin”

Energy Drink Funk Factor: 1. Drinks like a soda. A soda with so much sugar that your teeth fucking bend.

What it does for you: This didn’t really affect me much more than a regular can of soda. This sort of blatant false advertising really gets my pagoda, so I whizzed in the can and took it back to the store for a refund. I felt justified. Happy hunting.

Aeons ago, a battle for Heaven unfolded. Battalions of angels waged furious battle for the right to call that precious unreal estate their homes. The rebel angels, as they became known, and their leader, Lucifer, were hurled into ruin and awoke in Hell, a place of pain and torment, and worse yet, the absence of the love of God.

And Lucifer looked upon his fallen legion, and took a tear from the cheek of Ixichizil, the Demon of Shame; a drop of milk from the teat of Vuurl, the Nine-Horned Goat of Ignominy; the spittle from the mouth of Kelly Anderson, this chick from high school that that went to the prom with some football-playing, beer-bonging, Camero-driving fuckwad instead of me; and a goblet of boiling blood from the River Styx. He combined these unholy reagents and formed a hideous brew, incorporated a company called Living Essentials, and brought into this world his most diabolical creation since the Olsen Twins: Chaser 5 Hour Energy.

Figure 1.1: Like the YY chromosome pair, Chaser 5 Hour Energy is incompatible with life

The claims of the can: In this case it’s a bottle, which must be made some fairly remarkable substance to keep the EVIL from eating through it. It claims to deliver “hours of energy now,” with “no crash later,” while also boasting to be “sugar free,” and having “0 net carbs.” Under the “Caution” paragraph – yes, the same section you’ve seen featured on drain cleaner and rat poison – it notes that “you may experience a Niacin Flush (hot feeling, skin redness) that lasts a few minutes. This is caused by Niacin (Vitamin B3) increasing blood flow near the skin.”

Scariest sounding ingredient: Bat urine

Energy Drink Funk Factor: Off the fucking charts. It’s like doing a shot of Barcardi 151 mixed with cough medicine that someone extinguished their cigarette in. You could chase it with a shot of bile and actually feel better.

What it does for you: Ugh… I hate to admit this, because the taste alone should be cause enough to have any stores where it is sold carpet bombed, but it worked pretty well. It didn’t make me sick or edgy, and I drank it on a semi-empty stomach. I didn’t even get the Niacin Flush (is anyone else thinking that would make a good punk band name?) of which the prophecy foretold.