The box conveys no telltale signs. There’s just the familiar two-tone blue, the words “Kleenex” and “go pack.” I tear along the dotted line and see the bold colors of the tissue packs inside – you know, those small cushiony packets that fit inside glove compartments and purses, little godsends in a pinch.

To my surprise, the tissues have a new veneer. Along with the usual bright pattern on the plastic wrapper, Kleenex is now dispensing affirmations: “Seize this Moment” appears first, then “Summon Your Strength.” Next is “Believe in Yourself,” followed by my personal favorite: “Find Your Fearless.”

Multiply these messages times four, and you get 16 packs of soft-core tripe.

Nor are these mantras tone-deaf. Each word in these three-word ditties sports a different font, designating a certain playfulness. Nobody is suggesting that you should seriously believe in yourself, or summon your strength, which might take the form of a more sober unified font. Rather, a mix of whimsical font styles combines to lighten the whole affair. Just a bit of bland uplift, a vacantly cheerful message to accompany your sneeze.

I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when the designers came up with this idea. Did someone think, “Let’s change up a colorful text-free zone, and spew empty slogans instead”? And, if so, I wonder how they arrived at the final four in the pack.

Which cliches were too cliched to make the cut? Which were too particular or political, containing some hint of attitude or overtone that might offend?

Surely a fresh idea or two might have enlivened the discussion, even if it failed the requisite platitude test.

And who are the intended recipients of these feel-good maxims, anyway?

Chances are, if you use these portable tissue packs, you’re engaged in some form of crud removal. Whether that’s cleaning mud splatters from the side-view mirror, makeup at bedtime or mustard from a lapel, the task doesn’t typically call for perky inspiration.

Do you really want a reminder to be strong or authentic while patting dry a coffee stain?

(Thanks, but I’m already seizing this moment on behalf of my best sloppy self!)

Or perhaps crud removal should include the erasure of verbal irritants like those on the tissue packs themselves.

At a time of fake news, when words have come unhinged from their meanings, it’s entirely possible that “Find Your Fearless” and other such pesky self-boosting mottoes mean nothing at all. Maybe they’re just harmless gap-fillers, chirpy cousins of the perennial, “Yes, you can!”

A better approach may be to forgo this whole business of meaning and sense, and press these tissue packs into service. You’d be forgiven for thinking that blowing your nose is their best use.