Cinna the Poet. Truly, my name is Cinna.
First Citizen. Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator.
Cinna the Poet. I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.
Fourth Citizen. Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.
In like fashion, there's no need to tear Anheuser-Busch InBev (let's not omit the multinational connection, Nicholas) to pieces solely on one persuasive count of exploiting Native Americans. Just tear AB-InBev over its bad beer.
A Battle With the Brewers, by Nicholas D. Kristof (New York Times)
After seeing Anheuser-Busch’s devastating exploitation of American Indians, I’m done with its beer.
The human toll is evident here in Whiteclay: men and women staggering on the street, or passed out, whispers of girls traded for alcohol. The town has a population of about 10 people, but it sells more than four million cans of beer and malt liquor annually — because it is the main channel through which alcohol illegally enters the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation a few steps away ...
... For now, Pine Ridge’s alcohol problem is matched only by Anheuser-Busch’s greed problem. Brewers market beers with bucolic country scenes, but the image I now associate with Budweiser is of a child with fetal alcohol syndrome.
That’s why I’ll pass on a Bud, and I hope you’ll join me.