I’ve always had a knack for saying the wrong thing, to the wrong people at the wrong time. It’s part of my charm, I suppose. For example, just recently I was dining with a large group of fine folks when I innocently mentioned that one of my friends always had at least three girlfriends at any one time, forgetting for the moment that one of those girlfriend’s mothers was seated at the table with us. So too was the Casanova who was frantically kicking me under the table indicating that this was not proper dinner table conversation. I felt worse than a sore bagged ewe with triplets for letting the cat out of the bag and the bruises on my shin still haven’t healed.

I do it all the time. Once at a dance recital for a niece I mentioned that the baby-fat dancers looked like a bunch of swaying hippos and elephants. How was I supposed to know that the mother of one of the prancing pachyderms was seated next to me?

At a bull sale once I suggested that a certain bull should have been made into a steer — to the bull’s owner. But that wasn’t as bad as the time I was standing in front of the baby viewing window in a hospital and casually mentioned that one of the newborns certainly had big ears for a baby. Unfortunately the grandmother also had big ears and she overheard the remark. Darn it, they were big. Sometimes it seems people are getting so sensitive there’s hardly anything left to talk about any more.

I’ve criticized cigar smokers just prior to one of them lighting up a stogie and once at a banquet I made a comment to the person seated next to me that I had garden tools that were smarter than the guest speaker that evening. How was I supposed to know she was his wife? Other than the fact she was wearing a name tag.

And these are just the most embarrassing moments I know of. As loose-lipped as I am, I’m sure there were plenty more. I know we’ve all done it but I compound the problem by NOT mastering what I call "The Save" — a witty retort one makes after committing a faux pas. I’ll give you an example. My wife works in a grocery store and she recently told me about a customer in the produce section who just wanted half-a-head of thirty-nine-cent lettuce. The employee spraying down the vegetables stopped his work and told the old man to pick out a head of lettuce and he’d take it to the back room and have it cut in two. Once in the back room he told the produce manager, "I thought I’d heard it all! Can you cut this head of lettuce in half and wrap it? Some idiot out there wants only half-a-head." Just then he noticed that the "idiot" had followed him into the back room and heard every word. Thinking quickly the employee then said, "And this kind gentleman behind me has been nice enough to say that he’d take the other half."

That’s what I call a good save. I tried the tactic at a horse sale once but I found that, like a lot of other things, I’m no good at it. I remarked upon looking at a horse that it was "a ewe-necked, parrot-mouthed stumpsucker." Unfortunately I made the comment to the horse’s current owner. Trying to make a save I then quite wittingly answered back, "I wasn’t talking about the horse I was talking about the rider." "That’s my son," the owner replied.

See what I mean?

The best save I’ve ever heard about was related to me by my friend Maurice. He said two cattle buyers were talking about a certain town in Nevada, which shall remain nameless because I often travel through there. One cattle buyer made the comment, "There’s nothing in that town but ladies of the night and truck drivers."

The other cattle buyer suddenly said, "My sister lives there."

"And which company does she drive for?" said the other fast-thinking buyer.