The very first edition of Noah Webster’s famous dictionary, published way back in 1825, defines rizz as “style, charm, or attractiveness.” And no man on Earth possesses more rizz than nine-year-old online celebrity Christian Joseph, better known to his legions of followers on social media as “The Rizzler.”
Yes, somehow this child who is younger than my daughter has built a massive online empire based entirely on stroking his chin. I suddenly feel a lot less guilty about occasionally turning my conversations about movies with my own kid into content for this website. Yes, I’m exploiting her for free child labor — but at least I haven’t put her cartoon likeness on a discount carbonated beverage.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m not on TikTok because I am an Old. Instead, I consume social media influencers the same way I consume movies and television shows: By ingesting their tie-in products. And, somewhat inexplicably, the Rizzler has his own proprietary beverage: Arizona Rizzler Berry Sparkling Juice Cocktail.
According to the beverage company, the drink “brings all the rizz with lightly carbonated fizz.” Because the only Rizzler Berry trees in history were destroyed when God laid waste to the Garden of Eden, the drink instead contains a blend of “sweet and juicy berries like strawberry, cherry, raspberry, and blackberry, with snappy apple for a fruity, bubbly drink.” The label of the can claims it contains “5% juice” and that it also possesses “NO synthetic color” and “NO artificial flavor.” (Artificial flavors = no rizz.)
The Arizona website also insists this drink is guaranteed “to level up your rizz” and let’s be honest here: I desperately need to level up my rizz. So when I saw a can of Rizzler Berry in the drink cooler at my local grocery store, I knew I needed to try it.
Below, you can watch my full first reaction to trying the Rizzler’s drink below. Unlike the water that serves as the main ingredient in Arizona Rizzler Berry Sparkling Juice Cocktail, it is entirely unfiltered.
Okay, so this was borderline disgusting. But as you saw, the mysterious blend of flavors and tastes — adjacent to berries but not identifiable as any actual foods — was so baffling it actually does work in a weird way as a Rizzler-pose-inspired beverage. (The label claims the #1 fruit ingredient is “pear juice concentrate” followed by “mango puree concentrate” — neither of which is among the five fruits supposedly contained in this drink, at least according to the Arizona ad copy.)
Lord knows I am going to be scratching my chin and thinking about this drink, and the series of questionable life choices that brought me to it, for a very long time.
