Mad Men would never fly as a series set in Ontario. For one thing, infidelity wasn’t invented in Canada until 1975. But more importantly, picture this:

It was 11:04 p.m. Don Draper worked late that Friday night, overseeing the nation-wide magazine campaign for McCallion Fisheries. He was tired—tired of staring at cod all day, sure, but also tired in the general sense too, that kind of tired you get when the weight of the pomade in your hair is making your neck sore and you’ve been detoxing since dinner.

He drove up to the parking lot of the Liquor Control Board of Ontario and parked across a handicap space; after all, if being too dapper wasn’t a handicap, he didn’t know what was. All he wanted was a bottle of rye. Something different. Something new.

Unfortunately, that particular LCBO didn’t carry anything but Canadian Club, which meant that no LCBO in the entire province carried anything different, either. Also, he only had $20, and that wouldn’t cover the inflated LCBO prices. Also, he forgot his liquor permit, required by all LCBO stores for the purchase of any alcohol until the mid-1960s. Also, he was an avid drinker and the LCBO tracked all purchases until the 1970s and denied liquor to people they assumed had a drinking problem.

Also, he couldn’t even get inside the store because all LCBOs in the province closed at the same time: 11:00 p.m.

So, instead of heading home for a quiet drunken rampage, Don Draper drove to a convenience store, bought six cases of 0.4% near-beer and chugged them in the alley until he puked.

Not very glamourous, is it? Well, that’s what it’s like buying alcohol in Ontario. Since 1927, when a 11-year prohibition ended, the government has been in control of all of our hard liquor. It’s an immensely profitable idea, not just for the company, but also for the provincial government. And a lot of people loathe it.

But there is one thing that the LCBO does remarkably well, perhaps as a by-product of their monopoly on alcoholism: image.

One of the most notable perks of having a centralized liquor store is that their website is unmatched for how comprehensive it is. If you want a bottle of a particular brand of gin, you can search the LCBO website and it will tell you if they carry it, the price, what stores have bottles in stock, and how many bottles they have on hand. The layout and interface are simple and easy-to-use, which is absolutely fantastic when you’ve just shot-gunned a six pack of cheap beer and you can barely find your mouse cursor.

Similarly impressive is the LCBO’s seasonal “Food and Drink Magazine,” a publication offering recipes and dinner-party decor based on the time of year and paired with alcoholic beverages. It’s a surprisingly huge deal for some people, and with good cause. The recipes are always great, it’s a large, glossy and well-manufactured publication, and it’s absolutely free. No other liquor store on earth has the revenue to create something like that. No, not even Frank’s Booze and Smokes on the corner of 7th Ave. and 5th St. in New York.

Most importantly, the stores are clean and safe. People generally don’t rob liquor stores in Ontario, since every location has a security guard. It’s very difficult for minors to get alcohol because of stringent carding policies. And the brown paper bags that you can drink out of on the curb outside the store when you’ve had a bad day? They’re adorned with colourful logos!

The LCBO has been an institution since before the vast majority of us were born, and it’s hard to picture Ontario with privatized liquor. One day, it might happen, but the question is: if the image of Don Draper vomiting behind a Hasty Market makes the LCBO seem unfair, do you think we’d be better off without it?