The Charlotte Observer prattled, "With foreign ownership of Anheuser-Busch a real possibility, beer drinkers may have to choose between their patriotism and their Budweiser."
Some pundits have suggested that the acquisition is a litmus test for the two presidential candidates. Besides wearing a flag pin, the next occupant of the White House presumably must promise to keep Bud American. (Neither has expressed an opinion, yet.)
And then there's the SaveAB.com Web site that, among other things, blames InBev for genocide in Rwanda. We must protect Budweiser, the site says, because it "represents the spirit of our country, giving millions of Americans the 'pursuit of happiness.' " At last count, the site had collected more than 55,000 signatures on a petition opposing the takeover.
Mom, apple pie and the Clydesdales - it's not just a bunch of sentimental pap, it's yet another example of fear-mongering over dreaded globalization.
The only quarter that hasn't chimed in so far is the boardroom of Anheuser-Busch itself. That's no surprise, for its execs know the dirty, little secret behind this American icon:
Budweiser - its American eagle logo notwithstanding - is already a global brand. A-B operates more breweries on foreign soil than in the United States. It sells almost a third of its volume overseas.
It can't complain that foreign ownership is un-American because it already plays that game.
It owns half of Mexico's biggest brewer, Grupo Modelo.
It owns China's second-largest brewery, Harbin, and holds a 27 percent stake in its largest, Tsingtao.
It just bought out its partner in a half-million-barrel brewery that produces Bud in India.
Foreign ownership is the nature of an industry that involves worldwide distribution of a perishable product. The relationships are as sordid as a West Virginia family reunion.
