"Dad died."

"What? What are you saying?"

"Father died yesterday. Pneumonia. Took a fast turn for the worst. Service is Wednesday."

"Well, you could have broken it to me a bit gentler, fer crissake. Been a little considerate. That was too harsh."

"OK. Sorry. I've explained so much I just took a shortcut."

The fellow is mollified. The next week he gets a call from the same sister.

"How's was the service for Dad?"

"Fine,", she says. "I thought you should know that Mom caught a cold at graveside, got the sniffles, slight temperature. Nothing to worry about."

I'm afraid that's Paulson. And Bush. And for them it's not bad.