It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice.
Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive.
Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water.
I had a roommate in college for a few months who was from Niceville, Florida, but I didn't think she was very nice. She complained that I slept in a bed full of books, and she cried on the phone for hours with her boyfriend back in Niceville--the diamond in her engagement ring wasn't as large as she was hoping for and didn't demonstrate the amount of love she felt she deserved.
Merriam-Webster's Thesaurus suggests some alternatives to the word nice--alluring, inviting, enchanting, blissful, intoxicating, luscious, harmonious, exhilarating. I may try some of these out the next time I read someone's post about the history of their town or a description of their favorite movie or why they vote the way they do. Show me a picture you've taken of your mailbox, if you want, and I'll tell you it's charmingly utilitarian. Post a paragraph or two about your ride to work, and I'll comment about how industrious you are, and what an inspiring work ethic you possess. But I will not say anything about nice.