Big Deal: Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO) Switches to Paper Bags, Maintains Python-like Grip on Booze Sales

When it comes to purchasing alcoholic bevvies in our home province, there is only one game in town and that is the retail equivalent of Dodge Ball, the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO). When Ontarians speak of going to "The Beer Store", or "The Liquor Store" it is not due to some inherent Canadian fondness for speaking in generalities, but an actual trademark reflecting the incredible heights of the government's creativity.

The LCBO holds a government monopoly over the sale of alcohol. To suggest that this should be otherwise is practically a form of apostasy and categorically dismissed not only by the folks who benefit from such an arrangement (the cashiers who lug your cold ones out of storage for $29 an hour in the case of the Beer Store), but by digit waggers who believe that corner store hawkers would be less than diligent about checking for ID (kinda like R Kelly) and that society would descend into oil-drum fire burning, Hobbesian lawlessness.

Of course, these are the same folks who fail to realize that booze is actually purchased for minors by older brothers or more commonly, the guy who hangs around the parking lot who will do it if you slip him a fiver. [Editor's note: those do-gooders also believe the allure of cigarettes is so compelling to young people wandering into a corner store looking for cheese doodles, that packs of smokes should be completely hidden from view]

Along with a minority of people who are of the ludicrous belief that keeping a government monopoly in place and thus a competition level of zero in the liquor market actually ensures a better selection of booze, moves to privatize the LCBO have been stonewalled by the lobbying efforts of a union that would have made Jimmy Hoffa look like the boss's arse-kissing son.

To mitigate the natural resentment many feel towards monopolies and being treated like infants, the LCBO blows millions of taxpayer dollars making their stores look like Saks 5th Avenue outlets (unless you live in a bad neighborhood where they don't bother, and where a security guard with a baton will follow you around keeping a watchful eye on your purchase of an Antinori Chanti Classico or can of Schlitz malt liquor). To boost its public image, which is often more tarnished than Phoenician pottery, the LCBO has recently taken to fancying itself a steward of the planet.

"We try as a government to demonstrate the kind of behaviors that we want others to emulate," according to Public Infrastructure Minister David Caplan, who is responsible for the LCBO.
[Editor's note: Ontario ranks among the top polluters in North America and is number one in Canada]

According to reports, The LCBO hands out some 80 million bags a year. Now, these will be solely of the paper variety, so the transition between laying down your hard-earned $2.75 for that King can and swilling it right out of the bag on the street will be made that much easier.

Ontarians who've had to make the frozen trek to the nearest government-run liquor store or beer store in the dead of winter, polluting the air with their cars and their curses because they're unable to pick up booze at a grocery store like a normal human being, are unlikely to be too impressed by this too-little-and-too-late bid for good PR.

Drunk teen and his massive bar tab! He's got it 'made in Japan'

Getting a fake ID from that guy who will, once you've drunk yourself stupid in various lenient bars, supply you with a bogus highschool diploma, is a common rite of passage for many young keeners.

More often than not these sorts of identification cards could not pass muster anywhere other than the All-blind and Half-smart Society's annual barbecue and booze-up, but the teens, long having exhausted the liquor cabinet of mom's secret stash of Baby Duck (for all our foreign readers, the worst plonk in the Great White North, unfit to scour sink basins in the southwestern part of France), go for it anyhow.

In Japan recently, a 16-year-old raised the bar (and nearly bankrupted one) for under-aged drunken antics the world over when he sauntered into a Tokyo hostess club in the guise of a rich young playboy and began whooping it up in grand style.

The teen, who the manager later said ordered drinks and spoke with hostesses as a man experienced in such matters would, and was presumably not asked for identification because of that (the minimum drinking age in Japan is 20, and rumoured to be lower if you're not a fussy drinker), sat down with the hostesses and over the course of the evening managed to order an astonishing 60 glasses of whiskey, beer and cocktails, along with two bottles of Dom Perignon Champagne.

A lover of the high life, the youngster had apparently not read the chapter in the con-man's handbook that says when you are in the midst of a deception, it is best to blend in with the crowd and not draw attention to yourself. It's unlikely that he could have made himself more conspicious given his heavy bar tab --- 370,000 yen (US$3,490) by night's end (!) -- and the fact that he repeatedly picked up the microphone to serenade the various karaoke lovelies with some jukebox faves.

Alas, all good things must come to an end (and how much better could they get than a night of high-end booze-up on the arm in some den of ill repute?) and end they did when the teen was presented with the bill. Rather than creating a distraction by, say, requesting some Kenny Chesney and then making a break for it, the teen stuck around until the bill arrived and once it did he announced that he had no money.

Staff kept him there until police arrived, and we, find it a bit disconcerting that the coolest person we can think of at this moment is a 16-year-old kid.(Full story here)