DEAR MISS MANNERS: Just when one thinks that the Wedding Industrial Complex cannot get any worse, it does. One of the latest trends is to suggest to brides- and grooms-to-be that it is a good thing to tell those whom they are not inviting to the wedding just why they are not being invited.

The explanation given is that the couple would adore to have you attend their wedding, but that their budget will not permit it. It is also suggested that to make the excluded feel included, they be invited to go along on expeditions to "help choose" the dress, the cake or whatever.

As the occasional recipient of such announcements, I would like your advice about how to respond. It seems churlish to say that you're relieved not to be invited, but it seems awkward to admit that your feelings are hurt at being excluded.

GENTLE READER: The temptation to respond, "Oh, please don't feel bad about this -- I wouldn't have gone anyway," must be enormous.

Certainly that is a lot more tempting than going shopping with the bride, to watch her spend the money she saved by excluding you, and to help choose a cake of which you will not be offered a slice.

Miss Manners understands that it might sometimes be necessary to respond to pushy people who announce their intention of attending a wedding to which they have not been invited. Even then, pleading budget concerns is ugly, as an admission that the arrangements are more important than the people.

They should be told, "It's a very small wedding -- just family and a few close friends." And no, that's not a lie, because "small" and "close" are subject to interpretation. But to say, "Nyah, nyah, you're not invited to my wedding" to people who were minding their own business is as mean as it is vulgar.

As no invitation was issued, no response is necessary. But you could reassure them that you are not devastated by saying cheerfully, "Fine" or, "That's quite all right." And for the sake of form, Miss Manners hopes you will add your good wishes.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What is the proper thing to say when family or friends come over and you are ready to call it a night, but they don't leave?

My husband and I have friends, a married couple, who often come over for lunch and an afternoon visit. They usually arrive about 11:30 a.m. and sometimes stay past dinnertime, usually until 8:30 or 9 p.m.

I don't want to also offer dinner after preparing a nice lunch. If they come for dinner at 5:30, I have to throw them out at 1 a.m. because I start falling asleep in their presence. We are seniors and usually go to bed by 11 o'clock at the latest. We really like this couple and don't want to hurt their feelings. Help!

GENTLE READER: What would you do if they were taking leave of you at a proper time?

Miss Manners is guessing that you would stand up and, while moving toward the door, say something about having enjoyed seeing them and hoping to see them again before too long.

Do that.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Universal Uclick, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have been thinking about the standards of television news after violent tragedies. Some of the questions posed to people being interviewed strike me as both non-newsworthy and rude.

For example, how would Miss Manners respond to a question about how parents reacted when told their young child had been murdered? Would ending the interview with, "I'm sorry, but I thought I was talking to a news reporter, not a daytime talk-show host," be appropriate?

GENTLE READER: Not really. Besides, you intend this as an insult, but the days are long gone when news and entertainment were separated enough to allow each field to look down on the other.

What astonished Miss Manners, when she was a young, intrepid reporter, was how few people in tragic situations simply decline to be interviewed. She understands that some may need public help (in finding a murderer, for example), and that many are too distressed to distinguish between official and media questioning. But it is pitiful to see people squirming under this attention, apparently without realizing the option of refusing.

Furthermore, the ubiquitous question, "How does this make you feel?" is not only intrusive but pointless. However well or badly they articulate it, the victims of tragedy feel terrible. We know that, and should not prod them to declare it.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Is the baby shower given for the baby or the parents of the baby?

GENTLE READER: In view of the fact that at the time a shower is given, it is impossible to separate the mother from the baby, Miss Manners is puzzled about why you feel you need to choose. If you must, she would advise choosing the one who has learned to write letters of thanks.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I had custom correspondence cards printed with a motif on the top left and my full name (first, middle and last) on the lower right corner. While I love the look of the card, my choice of style poses a problem: If my name is already printed, should I also sign it?

I've been signing just my first name right above the printed name. It feels impersonal not to sign my name, but redundant to write what is already printed for me. How should I continue?

GENTLE READER: What you have is the modern version of what used to be called (despite the crime of turning an adjective into a noun) "informals." These were smaller, fold-over cards, with the name engraved on the front and room for a short message inside.

The change to larger cards was made when the postal service declared that it would cease to bother with anything that small. But even before then, informals were misunderstood. Not heeding the name, brides often wrote formal letters of thanks on them.

"Informal" means informal, although not in the anything-goes sense. (That would be the ubiquitous "casual.") Informal, in this case, just means that you needn't follow the forms of a letter. You can omit both the salutation and the closing, writing brief invitations, notes with presents or other short messages. Although it is not strictly necessary, you can add an informal signature -- your first name or initial -- if you draw a slanted line through your formal name.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Universal Uclick, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I don't know how to word this so you won't think it's untrue, although I know that at this point, you've heard everything.

My son was killed a little over five years ago in a street-racing collision. He was in no way at fault; my two oldest sons were traveling home and were hit head-on a little after 9 in the evening.

Life has been incredibly difficult ever since; I miss him with all my heart. He was the most amazing son -- he'd just graduated magna cum laude with a degree in philosophy and was going into the field of missions.

There were so many flowers at his funeral service that as I was writing thank-you notes, I could not figure out from the name who one of the arrangements was from. A month later, the driver who killed my son was arrested; that was when I learned his name, and that is when I learned who had sent the flowers. (His mother, I'm sure, had placed his name on them.)

Have you ever heard of such a thing? How can you kill someone and send flowers to their funeral, thinking that would make up for it? It absolutely compounded the pain, which some people seem prone to do.

GENTLE READER: Please understand that it is with the deepest sympathy that Miss Manners feels obliged to remind you that it is not those flowers that cause the terrible pain that you suffer.

Nor is it useful to think of that gesture as having been intended to "make up for" the horror of your loss. Most likely, the flowers were sent out of guilt or shame.

And while learning his name was a reminder, it was at least in the context of his being held accountable for criminal behavior.

Miss Manners suspects that the reason you are still thinking of those flowers, five years later, is that you wrote conventional thanks for them at the time, figuring it was a well-wisher whom you didn't know, only to have this seem to you, in retrospect, as if it constituted forgiveness. She can assure you that anyone who was able to feel guilt or shame -- and you may be right that it was the mother -- is not going to consider that absolved by a mere acknowledgment of the flowers. She recommends leaving the killer to his own deserved suffering.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My mother told me not to eat out of the saucepan after cooking my oatmeal. I find it easier and not necessary to waste another dish.

GENTLE READER: You seem to be interested in efficiency. Miss Manners therefore wonders why you have not discovered how consuming of time and energy it is to keep annoying your mother, as opposed to how much it takes to wash a dish.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have new furniture. I'm having a large buffet party, and I don't want people in the new living room. How do I keep food out of my living room?

GENTLE READER: A velvet rope across the door? A mean-looking bouncer?

Unless you have provided comfortable seating elsewhere, preferably with somewhere to park the plates, Miss Manners fails to see how you can expect your guests to realize that they will not be trusted in your living room.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Universal Uclick, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)