You’re being rather contrarian.

You’re reading a great deal into a very little evidence. When did asking a simple question become a form of contrarianism?

Also, as much as I would like to think that I am a “give it to me straight no matter what” kind of guy, I don’t rule out the possibility that my courage could fail me if the news was bad enough. Maybe not, but maybe yes. So this is also not completely simple.

But still, come on!

“I hereby unconditionally vow not to sue you, hate you, or speak or think ill of you in any way. Now will you please just tell me what’s going on with my kid?!?”

An attorney friend (I have several, surprisingly) tells me that the ideal defense in a libel or discrimination action (provided it’s unfounded) is the truth. And, it’s easier than the alternative of political correctness: when you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything. (Mark Twain)

I don’t expect people to believe me when I say they can tell it to me straight.

Then why do you say it in the first place?

Boudreaux was a widower whose most valued possession was his cat, Felix. Boudreaux won a 2-week trip to Europe, and he asked his friend Thibodeaux to look after the cat in his absence. “Thib,” he said, “I’ll call you from England to check on Felix.” Three days into the trip, Boudreaux indeed called Thibodeaux and asked, “How’s my cat doin’?” Thibodeaux replied, “Mai, Boudreaux, your cat died.” Boudreaux was beside himself, first with grief, then with anger. “Thib,” he wailed, “You don’t just tell somebody flat out that their cat died. You got no sensitivity. You should ease into it. Like, you should say, ‘Boudreaux, your cat’s on the roof, but I’m pretty sure we can get him down.’ Then when I call the next day, you say, ‘We got your cat down, but he caught pneumonia. The vet’s pretty sure he’ll be OK.’ Then on the next call, you say, ‘The cat took a turn for the worse, but the vet’s giving him some powerful medicine.’ Then the next day, you finally say, ‘Boudreaux, we did all we could, but your cat passed on.’ That’s the way you handle bad news like this.”

Thibodeaux expressed his remorse for his insensitivity and vowed to be more thoughtful. Two days later, Boudreaux called again. “Thib, how’s my mother?” Thibodeaux replied in his kindest voice, “Boudreaux, your mother’s on the roof.”

I don’t know how best to judge whether people can give it to me straight, given how much I find other people in error on this one.