The End of Sensitivity?

I'll never forget the reaction of one wag to the amor between Woody Allen and his stepdaughter of 18. The actor, whose 30-year relationship to a New York Psychiatrist was well-publicized, received a mix of scorn and derision.. I think it was David Letterman (himself problematic in that department, but isn't that always the way?) who said of Allen's therapist: "Good job."
Fast forward 20 years to a nation in a hurry and where sensibility is suspect and we have a Geico commercial (thank heaven with no gekko) in which a drill sergeant is a therpist. With scorn and derision, he shouts at a prone patient, throwing a box of tissues his way, and telling him to grow up.
It isn't kosher to be sad, or to hurt, or to grieve. No time. Suck it up. Duck when the box of tissues comes your way and smile bravely. Be ok at church and ok at work and just ok in general.
But some sensitivity can be a lifesaver. Just for a little while. Maybe the guy on the couch in the geico commercial had just lost his mother or worse, a child.
The other day we were driving and saw a man pushing an empty wheelchair with some possessions on it. We chuckled, until we realized he was homeless.
What happened to understanding and love? At the risk of breaking a heart, what happened to sensitivity?