Why I’m actively buying a bottle of Stoli

I don’t drink vodka. I’m not a fan of it at all. I’m also not a fan of Dan Savage.

And, yet.. today, I’m going to stop by the liquor store and pick up a bottle of Stoli vodka. Maybe I’ll pick up one of those funky fruit-flavored ones so I can actually maybe drink the stuff someday.  No, I’m not going to start listening or reading Savage anytime soon.

Yes, I’m aware of the fact that there’s a popular #dumpstoli campaign right now. But this campaign (like a lot of things that comes out of the piehole of Mr. Savage) is not only misguided, it’s very much quite wrong.

First off, the Stoli we buy on the shelves here in the United States doesn’t even come from Russia, it comes from.. well, depending on some different factors most likely Latvia (although supposedly some Stoli is actually distilled in one of a handful of countries including even Canada). The brand is owned by a Eurozone corporation with it’s HQ in Luxembourg.  And, yes, it’s majority owned by a wealthy Russian businessman (who I understand spends most of his time in Paris nowadays anyway).. but one that has few, if any, ties to Pooty Poot.. and one that has been critical of his government in the past.

But more importantly: Stoli has a long history of actually SUPPORTING the LGBT community before this.  I won’t go down the laundry list, but this BusinessWeek article pretty much sums it up.

I have my suspicions that this has nothing to do with “gay rights”. Maybe somebody just needs a new sponsor for one of his media properties, and maybe this is an excellent way of browbeating one of the importers or producers into sponsoring his show.

It’s certainly not because Stoli did anything wrong. At best, this looks more like spousal abuse 1 than a campaign for change.

Stoli, I stand with you, even if I think the rocket fuel you sell is way too astringent to actually drink.  Будем здоровы!

Show 1 footnote

  1. Not to discount spousal abuse, but it is a similar pattern to one form of abuse I’m familiar with: be all lovey-dovey one minute, and then lashing out for some minor perceived slight that may not have even been intended

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