Ontario is perched on the brink of disaster.
Unless a deal can be reach later this week, the workers of the LCBO will go on strike, cutting us off from our main supply of booze.
The LCBO itself, a body that is supposed to instill temperance and responsibility in us by controlling where we purchase alcohol and charging us a lot for it, is currently encouraging all of us to stock up for the upcoming Victoria Day weekend just in case. Because nothing says temperance and responsibility like telling the masses to stockpile mickeys and wine boxes in our homes like we're survivalists hoarding guns in our bunkers.
At best, though, that's a temporary solution. There's always the possibility that the workers' demands will outlast even the biggest bottle of Arbor Mist strawberry wine. And if we can't turn to alcohol, what will we have then?
The answer is music.
We will still have songs about drinking to try to keep our spirits up when our spirits are gone.
We've put together a list of some of the best homegrown songs on the topic to help us all through this tragic time, stage of grief by stage of grief.
Joel Plaskett "Drunk Teenagers"
Stage of Grief: Denial "Woo!" we will shout to ourselves and each other as we blast Plaskett's "Ashtray Rock" this coming weekend. "How long can a strike last, anyway? Let's get hammered and/or plastered on a Saturday night, just like the titular teens in this awesome song!"
The Trews "The Power Of Positive Drinking"
Stage of Grief: Denial "Yeah, it'll fine," we’ll reassure ourselves the next morning as we take solace in The Trew’s punny ode to functional alcoholism. "Let's apply the powers of positive drinking to our feelings on this strike."
Corb Lund "Time To Switch To Whiskey"
Stage of Grief: Anger "This country singer's on to something," we will realize, perhaps a week later. "We've been sipping this Beer Store ale for too long and it's time to switch to harder stuff." But the second it's out of our mouths, we will realize that we can't, because we don't have any damn whiskey left. And then our polite Canadian facades will crumble.
Stereos "She Only Likes Me When She's Drunk"
Stage of Grief: Anger In a moment of all-consuming directionless anger, we will turn to the Stereos and we will yell "Are you talking about a girl, or your fans?!"
Spirit Of The West "Home For A Rest"
Stage of Grief: Bargaining "Maybe we can go to England and drink in all of the pubs across the countryside! It worked for Spirit Of The West!" we will whisper to ourselves, pretending that we didn't spend our savings on all our pre-May 2-4 stockpile of Bacardi Breezers.
Bruno Mars "Liquor Store Blues"
Stage of Grief: Bargaining Then we will wonder if we can turn to America for both our booze and our music. We will hop in the car and blast some "Liquor Store Blues." We will go to Wal-Mart and make a joke about unions that we will immediately regret and then we will buy lots of ninety-seven cent malternative slushy beverages and pretend that they don't taste like a mix of high fructose corn syrup, Colt 45 and regret.
Moxy Fruvous "Drinking Song"
Stage of Grief: Depression In a brief moment of clarity, we will feel a bit histrionic for trying to relate a song about the late stages of the apocalypse to our situation. And then we will forget about it, because obviously having no LCBO feels just like the end of the world.
Bran Van 3000 "Drinking In L.A."
Stage of Grief: Depression "Remember when this song came out? And 26 felt so old?" we will moan. "Now we would kill to be 26. And in L.A. And drinking. Or any combination of the above." And then we will do nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Sum 41 "Hooch"
Stage of Grief: Acceptance "I've come to grip confronting my reality," Derek Whibley will sing to us as we confront our own booze-free reality and take fate into our own hands and use our bathtubs to make our own alcohol. It's an awkward and unpleasant feeling, but the bootleg hooch that will soon be swimming through our systems will surely kill all of the brain cells capable of feeling any shame. Or anything at all.
Leonard Cohen "Closing Time"
Stage of Grief: Acceptance There will come a time, though, when our denial, anger, bargaining and depression will run as dry as our province. Then we will finally come to the point where we can put away the moonshine and face our fate like grown ups. And when that happens, we will have Leonard Cohen, Canada's spiritual grandfather, and the soft and soothing sounds of his ode to dignified acceptance to guide us through the darkness and love us now that there's nothing left.