Nice guy. Nice place. Nice time. Huh? That made absolutely no sense.

Why not, socially awkward guy? Garishly decorated place? Immemorable time.

I'll tell you why. To be honest, it's taboo to be honest.,”

Nice guy. Nice place. Nice time. Huh? That made absolutely no sense.

Why not socially awkward guy? Garishly decorated place? Immemorable time?

I'll tell you why. To be honest, it's taboo to be honest. So we must be nice – and match our descriptions accordingly.

It's called "Minnesota Nice" where I'm from, you betcha. "Minnesota Nice," though helpful when stranded in a blizzard on the side of the road, comes up short in interaction. The native quality ensures a very ingratiating exchange of nothing at all. It's not polite to speak one's mind, dontcha know?

Famous author and Minnesota expatriate F. Scott Fitzgerald empathizes with this tendency through his classic, "The Great Gatsby."

"Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known," narrates Nick, a Minnesota transplant himself. Though fictional, his claim resonates with those familiar with our residential dearth of authenticity – not that it's exclusive to my home state. There are plenty of nice people living in nice places other than Minnesota.

For instance, nice people from the South, bless their hearts, can't be straightforward without qualification.

"That Cletus, he drinks like a fish, bless his heart."

Or its Midwestern counterpart:

"Billy's pretty lazy and a smidge racist. He's a nice guy though."

"Yeah, soooo nice."

Sound familiar?

Even when I attempt to offer up an honest take, such as, "She's fake," another will quickly add, "Yeah, but she's nice."

What began as an accurate (or at least intelligible) statement suffered semantic homicide. Death by "nice." The untimely demise of any substantial denotation.

Coincidentally went the demise of the original meaning of the word "nice." In the 13th century, "nice," the Latin "nescium," meant ignorant. From there to the French "naias" for stupid. And now?

Modern usage rendered this once-intense expression meaningless. "Nice" can really mean anything, but often arbitrarily settles somewhere between "pleasant" and "agreeable" -which just begs the synonym "bobblehead." Nice, adj., one who nods and smiles. So maybe it hasn't deviated much from its origins after all.

It may be nice to tell me that my writing's "good." Nice, of course, meaning that it will help nothing. I'll be the same "good," unemployed writer who could've used used some not-so-nice/ignorant/stupid criticism.

I appreciate honesty because there's no point to talking unless you're going actually going to say something.

Go ahead. Count how many times you use or hear "nice" in just one day.

Then ask yourself, "Why?"

Because if someone actually left the truth dangling there minus its diluting verbal catch-all, well, no one would actually do that. Maybe because truth served without a side of passive-aggressiveness is just too rich for your sensitive palate.

Sure, a hearty helping of ingenuousness can bring on some heartburn, but bland — bland is an antacid of abject superficiality.

Don't go out and start fights or offer unsolicited, destructive criticism. Just toughen up, and expect nothing less.

If you don't have anything meaningful to say, don't say it at all.

“