5 Red Bulls and I Can See Through Time.

I’m not sure people actually like energy drinks (I’d swear Red Bull’s aftertaste is sweetened uranium), but people sure do seem to need them. I’m not too proud to admit that I’ve leaned on a Red Bull here and a Rockstar there to ensure that I’m awake to hear inspiration when it calls. (In my case, that call is the two cats involved in a spectacularly violent booty call at 2 every morning; I could offer no better explanation for the quality of my contributions here.)

So what do we do when the FDA or the WHO comes out with their inevitable Unexpected Doom Alert? Y’know, the “Wow! Never thought Rockstar Zero Carb could do that to a medulla oblongata!” or the, “If your anus explodes suddenly, please drive to an emergency room and instruct the nurse to call 1-800-RED BULL for information” kind of bulletin.

At first, the thought of an exploding anuses pandemic, fueled by admittedly Red Bull-dependent Warren Ellis and his constant flood of output (several monthly comics, a novel, columns for Suicide Girls and Reuters, daily updates on his many websites, blogs, trading posts on his online community^[1]) scared me more than threat of death by zombie.

But the comics industry would save us. They’d do their damndest to put a lid on Warren Ellis and his volatile rectum and soldier along, because they know this: that Red Bull-soaked sphincter could write a decent monthly title on its own. In fact, it's been a long-standing rumor that DC tried to get that anus onboard to fix Countdown, but couldn't come to mutually agreeable terms. And that's a shame.



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[1]I just can't bring myself to call Warren Ellis' Engine a "message board". Newsarama has a message board. Entourage has a message board.