Oh, how wonderfully amusing it is to witness the tale of Hollywood’s favorite progressive poster boy, George Clooney, and his “accidental” journey into billion-dollar entrepreneurship. You see, our beloved actor-turned-activist-turned-tycoon simply wanted to create a “smooth tequila” that suited his refined palate. How terribly inconvenient it must have been when Diageo showed up with a $1 billion check in 2017.
Isn’t it remarkable how some business ventures are more equal than others in our contemporary moral landscape? When certain real estate moguls build hotels, they’re capitalist demons incarnate. But when Saint George of Hollywood sells his “friendship-inspired” spirits brand (Casamigos literally means “house of friends” – how charmingly authentic!), it’s merely a charming side quest by a humanitarian who happened to stumble upon a billion-dollar payday.
Let’s pause to appreciate the delicious irony: here’s a Democratic Party darling, married to a human rights lawyer, who managed to join the billionaire club by selling premium tequila to the masses. Of course, this is completely different from other business ventures because… well, because it’s George Clooney. The same George Clooney who lectures us about social responsibility while laughing all the way to the bank.
But who are we to question this masterclass in progressive capitalism? After all, it’s perfectly reasonable that when Clooney does business, it’s a noble pursuit of craftsmanship, but when others do it, it’s greed incarnate. The rules are crystal clear: if you have the right political affiliations and enough Hollywood charm, your billion-dollar deals come with a complimentary halo.
Perhaps we’ve all been cast in Clooney’s latest production – a fascinating drama where principles are flexible, and hypocrisy gets a standing ovation. The plot twist? The average citizen is forever relegated to the role of an unwitting extra, applauding from the sidelines as the elite masterfully blur the lines between virtue signaling and profit margins.
In this grand theater of modern morality, some get to play both hero and merchant, while others are permanently typecast as villains. It’s almost as if having the right political views is a magical cloak that transforms naked capitalism into virtuous enterprise.
But remember, dear readers, this is merely an observation from the cheap seats, where we simple folk try to make sense of a world where some people’s gold somehow glitters more ethically than others. Perhaps we should all raise a glass of Casamigos – assuming we can afford it – and toast to the magnificent performance of it all.
After all, in this age of enlightened capitalism, it’s not about what you do – it’s about who you are when you do it. And some, it seems, are simply more equal than others in our grand moral theater.
