In the comic strip “Peanuts,” Linus says that one should never discuss “politics, religion, or the Great Pumpkin.” That’s good advice, as far as it goes, but the list of things you shouldn’t discuss in public goes much further. In fact, erase that bit about “in public.” They’re dangerous to discuss among friends and family, too.

These days, politics is strictly off the table. You never know who has a concealed carry license. And Linus was certainly right that it’s best to avoid religion. When someone says, “Bless you,” the right answer is “thank you,” even if you’re not a believer. After all, they meant the religious equivalent of “Have a nice day.” (Or “gesundheit,” maybe. By the way, “Bless your heart” should be used with caution when you’re in the South. It can be a verbal middle finger. But I digress some more.)

Another topic to avoid is any that leads to a near-death experience. My husband, Dan, has blundered that way more than a few times. For example, when we were preparing for a party, I washed my hair, blow-dried it, used a curling iron, moussed, and sprayed. As I came down the stairs, Dan asked, “Are you going to do anything with your hair?”

And stay far, far away from talk of pregnancy. Suggesting that a woman is pregnant based on her weight, her clothes, or the way she waddles can be deeply offensive, particularly if she isn’t. In fact, one expert advises that you not comment on a woman’s potential pregnancy unless you actually see a baby emerging from her vagina at that moment. Better safe than hopelessly embarrassed. (I was a victim of this faux pas when I walked into an office looking for a job, wearing a loose denim jumper and a nice blouse. Admittedly, it may not have been the best choice for filling out an application, but the receptionist didn’t have to ask how far along I was. Later, she repeated the story as an amusing anecdote, not realizing that I was in the room and was embarrassed all over again. But I continue digressing.)

Everyone knows by now not to comment on a woman’s anatomy on pain of getting fired or a punch in the mouth. Not even when you’re trying to make a joke. I once told an acquaintance that I wasn’t at a party “because I was home nursing a sick cat.” “Didn’t you get scratched about the breast?” he asked. He almost got scratched about the face.

Then there was the time a guy had two girlfriends and was invited to a wedding. I don’t think he clearly understood the concept of a plus-one. He suggested taking one lady to the ceremony and the other to the reception. He somehow survived the occasion with at least one of the relationships intact. How? I don’t know.

Speaking of weddings, one of Dan’s bigger faux pas was when he suggested that, since his family lived in Pennsylvania and mine lived in Ohio, we should have our wedding on the state line, to inconvenience both families equally. (He was serious. But I digress for the final time. I promise.)

Because you’re bound to offend or insult someone, somewhere, sometime, my best advice, no matter what you are about to blurt out, is to remember your mouth has a zipper. Use it!