New research shows that guys who drink energy drinks are exponentially more likely to be homophobic, sexist and misogynistic. Let’s take a gander at a few of these incredible specimens …

There’s no doubt that there is a direct, very potent relationship between bros and energy drinks. Bros of this great nation are by far the biggest consumers of gas station greats like Red Bull, Monster and Rockstar, and every bro has a fiery passion for a particular one.  After all, Kyle needs his energy if he’s gonna longboard all the way to the tribal tattoo shop, even though his backwards hat makes him more aerodynamic.

However, there’s trouble in paradise for energy drink-loving Chad and frat brother Brad. New research from the University of Akron and Texas Tech University has found that men who regularly consume energy drinks are more likely to have homophobic and misogynistic views then men who think Red Bull is bullshit.

In fact, men who glug energy drinks regularly are more likely to agree with statements like, "A man should always be the boss," "Homosexuals should never marry," and “A man should prefer watching action movies to reading romantic novels,” according to a report by the Huffington Post.

These bros were also more likely to be duped into believing that energy drinks actually “work wonders” according to the same study. For example, Red Bull might give you actual wings if you drink enough at the Avicii concert.

… Alrighty then!

Clearly, there seems to be a relationship between tolerance, intelligence and rockin’ B vitamins. The short-lived, negligible benefits of synthetic energy drinks comes with the daunting cost of morphing into a sexist homophobe who checks his shoulderblades for signs of wing growth every morning after his ab routine.

And since this clear and present danger is so pervasive in Colorado, where bros run rampant, we put together this handy guide that matches up bro type to the energy drink of their choice. Maybe you can use it to recognize the signs and symptoms of energy bro bigotry before it’s too late and they fist pump this shit into another dimension.

Kappa Gamma Keith: Red Bull

Let the vodka and Red Bull overfloweth at the 3rd annual ‘CEOs and Office Hoes’ mid-term bash and cue the frat shitshow, where brother Keith goes from: “Nah, I feel great, Tanner, let’s kappa kegstand, bro, put me up,” to being unconscious with a neighbor’s Pomeranian eating barf off his chest in a mere matter of precious, Instagram-documented moments.

The Basic Bro: Monster

This is the person who doesn’t have a personality to begin with. In walks ‘Monster’ to fill that spatial skin-bag void. There were many points in this person’s life where this individual could have chosen to take on an actual personality but it just never happened. Think the ‘nice guy’ in high school, vanilla, no opinions whatsoever. Imagine a functioning mannequin listening to dad rock.  Replace that novelty T-shirt with Monster logo, slap on a Day-Glo neon green hat, a Famous Stars and Straps belt buckle maybe even a sick Monster decal for his Ford Taurus and they’re set. Just as easily as one chooses to be a CPA this person chose to be literally branded a ‘Monster’ in public.

Every Third White Trash Person: Full Throttle

Skoal, year-round jorts, ironically bald with a Stone Cold Steve Austin complex; that essentially nails the white trash energy drink starter kit. They unleash their inner ‘ultra beast’ with a quick 24 oz glug of guarana and ginseng to compliment that nutritionally insufficient microwaveable Hungry Man dinner.  This person always have some form of a goatee and several pairs of those bug-tinted Oakley knockoffs. You know the ones. That leathery skin look from years of mudding shirtless. Imagine Fred Durst with some weird non-life-threatening albeit disgusting antibiotic resistant dermatological issue.

Basement-Dwelling Gamer Stepson: NOS

It’s 3:00 a.m., he’s halfway through the Gates of Ahn’Qiraj, he reaches for the NOS to ensure he makes it to the Shadows of the Necropolis. No time for actual food and a beer will only hinder his reflexes, diminishing the POWN capacity of that fabled right trigger finger.

Three Bawls down, the taurine and pizza rolls coursing through his veins, soon enough there will be that 60 second window between levels when he can gargle some mouthwash, change his diaper and maybe rub one out.

9-5 E-Trade Bros: Rockstar

This is just essentially a grownup manifestation of Kappa Keith previously mentioned. Keith is older now, off the hooch and is busy makin’ the e-commerce world his bitch. Keith takes a break from ‘Clash of Clans’ and sexually harassing his secretary, Blythe, to keep his edge on ‘Rockstarrin’ out with his cock out’ with his favorite cancer-flavored tall boy of chode serum.

The EDM Bro: 5-Hour Energy

Picture this: The EDM bro at home in his personalized weed-centric universe. Pre-blunting with a cannabis infused energy drink before transforming his entire apartment into a Dankubation chamber, he pops some Jack Ü into the subwoofer and blisses out to the sounds of blenders and Justin Bieber, his personal Jesus. The gaudy feng shui maintains an ironic practicality within the narrow confines of his meaningless search for the biggest drop ever known to human eardrums. The amalgam of lighters, incense and ‘tools’ on his coffee table looks like sacrificial offerings bestowed at the foot of an EDM altar. His WiFi password is "CoachellaLover420."

The EDM bro doesn't fuck with one-hour energy drinks like Red Bull. He needs five whole hours of energy for his fist pumping and bicep tanning. He needs plural time units of alerntess to figure out how to make a submarine radar sound on Ableton. He needs to be up and at 'em at all hours of the night so his neon can heroically reflect the moonlight, creating light in the darkness for passersby. He needs 5 Hour Energy … and another steroid injection, please. 

Juggalos: Spazmatic

Although juggalos are technically the categorical opposite of a bro, their energy drink habits are still heart-palpatating enough for a spot on this list. Anyone who has actually consumed the ICP Juggalo-specific energy drink ‘Spazmatic’ needs to be on display in the Smithsonian to represent mankind’s time on earth.

So, there you have it. The go-to magic potions of meatheads have led to an onslaught of emergency room visits for cardiovascular issues, but let’s just keep that between us. Maybe the douchebag trait will systematically remove itself from the gene pool out of XTREME backwards-sunglasses altruism.