"For God's sake, open the pubs again before we all become alcoholics," is the epigram that summed up Ireland at the height of the pandemic. At this stage, if our aim is to curb the rising number of coronavirus infections recorded by Nphet, it's a case of: For God's sake, open up ALL the pubs.
And while we're at it, in the interest of pragmatic civil liberties - and in the face of the traditional Irish pub becoming an endangered species - is it time to consider the concept of personal responsibility when it comes to going out for a few pints?
Closing down a third of the country's pubs won't stop people gathering together over drinks; it'll just drive social drinking out of a controlled, visible environment and into an illicit, hidden one.
It's nonsensical, unnecessary, short-sighted and counter-productive. It's infantilising - and a classic example of rules for the sake of rules.
Pubs across Europe have re-opened, yet here in Ireland, we've come up with some kind of mad Father-Ted-crossed-with-Garda-Patrol segregation policy on licensed premises. It's bonkers.
Only those that serve food are open, leaving 3,750 pubs with their shutters down since March.
Yet, if all pubs were opened at the same time, the supply-and-demand balance would have meant social distancing could have been achieved more easily. Instead, we had the Covid-19 citizen police out with their iPhones taking evidence of people on the city streets drinking, which they tut-tutted was "not allowed".
Instead of scolding these people who, in fairness, had the basic sense of responsibility to stay out in the fresh air, the simple solution for public health was to open all premises and increase the space.
A few photos on Twitter of craic-starved young people getting over-excited in the good weather and sitting on pavements, pints in hand, was enough to postpone the reopening of all pubs, to a scheduled date of August 10. It's an overdue reopening that needs to go ahead.
Dublin city centre social life bears no resemblance to the culture of pubs in country towns, many in counties where there are currently very few coronavirus cases.
Yet they were the most harshly punished: 60pc of rural pubs do not serve food. It's hard to comprehend how they will survive the closure of business for almost half a year.
Padraig Cribben of the Vintners' Federation of Ireland made sense when he said: "This is a decision made by policy makers divorced from reality about life in rural Ireland."
Donal O'Keeffe of the Licensed Vintners Association pointed out: "It has to be acknowledged that the pubs that are closed are not responsible for the growing levels of infection. Yet it is these same pubs asked to take a further financial hit."
More magical thinking is evident in the rule that patrons can only have a drink once they've had a substantial meal - something I haven't come across since the Ambassador nightclub in Co Kildare, circa 1996.
How exactly does this policy protect in any way from the virus?
The 105-minute time limit is the most ridiculous of all - defeating the whole purpose of pub tradition by putting a clock on your head, or else making a superspreader event more likely, as drinkers move venue.
The continued closures mean that while the virus may be banished from bars, it's only going to emerge in homes, as house parties spring up in their place.
Strangely, the decision to leave the "wet pubs" closed was not connected to any outbreak in the pubs already open. That was a successful dry-run that should have bode well for re-opening on schedule on July 20.
Instead, it was spurred on, in part, amid growing concern amongst policy-makers about the spread of Covid-19 at house parties.
We've seen it already in Killarney this month, where a weekend-long house party in a holiday home, attended by around 30 young people from all over Ireland, led to a virus cluster alarm. One person there had been diagnosed with Covid-19, and since then, at least one person from the group has tested positive for it.
Young people who want to party aren't going to bother ringing up the local pub and booking a time slot, to sit there like pensioners having a midday meal with their drink before having to leave again. That's the opposite of youth and freedom.
Instead, they're going to each others' houses, where there's no-one around to spoil their fun. They're going to make a booking to go for a weekend away in a free house, where they won't have to deal with the local polis coming in, checking if people sitting together are blood relatives.
But it means they're at bigger risk: at home, there won't be hand sanitising stations, social distancing etiquette or hygiene standards, as there are in a pub. Nobody will be wearing face coverings.
A pub may be a high-risk environment because, as the experts say, drinking and social distancing are mutually exclusive. Being in a pub, however, would be far less dangerous than spending a weekend at a house party. The danger lies not in what you can see, but what you can't.
It would be very unwise to undermine the gravity of this killer virus.
Ultimately, though, we are going to have to move to a model of personal responsibility around pub outings, for the survival of all.