The hype on Jack3d is so ridiculous that I see countless guys walking in to GNC, Power Nutrition, and the Vitamin Shoppe asking for this product, and the best part is — none of these guys ever seem to have any muscle! So I just knew I had to taste this stuff and write a real Jack3d review!
So seeing how I fit in to that category, I decided to take a shot at Jack3d and give myself the most amazing pre-workout EVER!
Being the conservative guy that I am, I decided to stick with the entry-level Lemon-Lime flavor rather than roll the dice with some bastardization of Grape Bubblegum or White Blue Raspberry. I was hoping for something along the lines of Gatorade original, and thankfully, that’s exactly how it smelt when I tore open my sample pack.
But before mixing with water, I noticed a dire warning printed on the label. Yes, the dreaded ‘Black Box Warning’:
This Product Produces An Intense Sensation Of Drive, Focus, Energy, Motiviation & Awareness. In Addition, It Allows For Rapid Increases In Strength, Speed, Power & Endurance. Therefore, Extreme Caution Must Be Exercised & Should Not Be Used By Novice Athletes.
Now I must admit — this made me more than a little nervous. After all, despite my trophy rack consisting of championships earned at Chess, Scrabble, and QuakeCon, I still considered myself something of a Novice Athlete. To be honest, I was slightly dumbfounded.
Was USP Labs trying to imply that one needed to be a Professional Athlete to ingest this wondrous concoction? But then I thought about that pimply-faced, chubby teen who came running into the GNC right before closing, heaving and puffing after having sprinted three stores down from his Hot Topic cashier position, and I thought to myself: If he can use Jack3d, then gosh darn it, so can this pimply-faced, chubby old man who can’t even run the length of two stores without heaving and puffing.
I poured the contents of the pouch into my 8 oz of distilled water because nothing screams ‘Hardcore Bodybuilding’ to the wannabes at Gold’s Venice like a bottle of distilled water — especially when I announce to the camera Levrone-style — ‘Eight Ounces of Jack3d…in yo face!’ with each rep of sipping.
Jack3d tasted better than I expected — not quite Gatorade level, but certainly better than Powerade — but the real test would be the workout.
I cleared out a section of the gym where the incline benches are located (a loud and toxic, pre-workout fart blast can do that) and I got to work. I banged out 20 pushups as a warm up and it felt like butter. I was ready to dig deep.
I loaded the bar up with 135. Sure, it’s “light weight” to Ronnie Coleman but it’s downright “average” to us mortals with low testosterone. BOOM! I rocked out 15 reps with a form so sweet, the gals on the elliptical machines right in front of me were smiling and licking their lips in approval (either that or they were watching a Ryan Reynolds interview on Extra).
I tossed another couple of ‘Magnums’ (45’s) on the bar and braced myself. You know how it goes — if 225 feels heavy, it’s not gonna be a good day. I squeezed my shoulder blades together like Ryan Kennelly and held my breath like Scot Mendelson and screamed like Tori Black as I lifted off. The 225 was steady as I held my arms in the locked position over my erect nipples. Yes, I thought! I’m gonna crush this!
I lowered the bar in a controlled manner so I could feel every fiber in my pecs coming to life, just like Dorian told me to do (or Dorian’s MD article told me. Or Dorian told MD Ghostwriter Ron Harris. Or Ron Harris just made that up.) And then it touched my chest and I exploded. I arched my back, exhaled, and grunted so loud a Planet Fitness lunk alarm went off 12 miles away in the Valley.
But nothing happened.
The 225 just sat there on my chest like a female bodybuilder paid to sit there and spit in my face. Except this time, I wasn’t paying for the humiliation.
Help, I whispered.
But the figure girls on the elliptical had moved on from gossiping about Ryan Reynolds to openly negotiating prices for Trenbolone.
I tried to tilt the bar to make the plates slide off, but then I remembered that I was the ONLY schmuck in the 60 year Gold’s Venice history who had ever placed collars on the barbell. Fuck!!!
My pride stopped me from crying out like a girly-man, but it didn’t stop me from flopping my legs around like those speared-Dolphins from The Cove.
Finally, someone noticed.
And it wasn’t just anyone — it was Rico McClinton!
Yes, THE Rico McClinton — a controversial 3rd place winner at the 1999 NPC Nationals!!
He swooped in like one of Lee Priest’s 37 Superman tattoos and grabbed the bar and in one easy motion, spared my life and won the hearts and minds of MuscleWeekers everywhere.
I graciously thanked him and offered him some of my Jack3d backwash lingering at the bottom of my bottle, but he politely declined.
I stared into the bottle looking for a scapegoat for my faux pas. Could I blame Jack3d for my failed lift?
Of course not. I’d never gone higher than 185 on the incline bench, and even then I needed a spot to move the bar two inches.
But the point is that Jack3d (and its Black Box Warning) gave me the courage to try.
And isn’t that what Bodybuilding is really about? Throwing caution to the wind and putting strange, unknown substances with lengthy warnings into your body in the hopes that you’ll derive some muscular benefit therefrom?
To which I can only respond to myself: HELLZ YEAH!