Truth is a Bludgeon

My great-aunt Arzella had a simple philosophy that she passed on to my mother, who in turn has passed it down to me intact:  Never fuck up a good lie.

It sounds flippant, but the sense of consistency and integrity with which a dutiful person applies that maxim is perhaps a good indicator of their consideration for others.  A decent sort of person doesn't expound on the horrors of mortal death at a fucking funeral, tell a child they are adopted out of the blue, or spite the local vicar by denouncing Christ just as the sermon concludes.  A decent sort of person tells the bereaved that of all the ways to go, that one is alleged to be peaceful and quick, tells the little ginger bastard that they seem to recall one of their great-grandmother's brothers had red hair too and that he's lucky to have that distinguished trait, and they gracefully exit the parish after tithing and they thank the clergyman for his counsel throughout the years.

Because we are honest, upstanding folks we want to be truthful and candid and unburdened by the heavy weight of deception and falsity, but sometimes a decent sort of person picks up that fucking yoke and shoulders it grimly without so much as a thought to the morality thereof, and we do this so that we may all get along without being honest, upstanding dicks to one another.

If you have been cheating on your wife for twenty years and suddenly have an epiphany of morality, for the love of all that is decent do the right thing and keep your goddamned mouth shut.  Be honest with your doctor, and continue to lie to your wife until your grave; stop fucking Debbie from the cubicle down the row, get tested, and then vow to be a better husband...starting with not stabbing someone else in the happiness with your catharsis.

If your father on his deathbed tells you he was a rotten bastard and a drunk, tell him that you always loved him and you forgave him years ago...and wait until after he slips quietly into oblivion and the room is clear of all others before you dance a jig and draw a cock on his chin with a Sharpie®.

Celebrate your schadenfreude, weep for your mistakes, masturbate furiously to unrequited lust, and if you deem it absolutely necessary mortify yourself with a scourge for your moral failings, but for fuck's sake keep it to yourself so the rest of us can get on with our day.