We would probably be better off if our bodies shut down whenever we were about to say something stupid or that we might regret.

A couple days ago, I had a situation that seemed like something that might happen to a character in a Jim Carrey movie like “Liar, Liar” or “Yes, Man.” One of those movies where a character can’t tell a lie or can’t say no.

Running into an old acquaintance, the conversation entered territory concerning a mutual friend. This acquaintance had heard a bit of gossip about this friend.

What I’d heard wasn’t anywhere near as bad, but I had no proof to recommend either angle of this particular conversation.

I started to share what I’d heard, but my mouth froze. I went to say what I’d heard and nothing came out. Then when I did speak, the collection of words that fell out of my head couldn’t exactly be called sentences, or even phrases.

They were an incoherent gabble of babble, hung between gaping pauses in conversation.

This strange occurrence may have seemed like a sneeze because the acquaintance said, “bless you.”

Though I hadn’t sneezed, I was glad to hear the “bless you” in hopes he really thought I had sneezed. Because for some reason, momentarily, the gift of speech as a form of communication had deserted me.

Maybe subconsciously, I’d entered a point in conversation about our mutual friend where I did not want to be. Maybe my ability to speak had betrayed me because my body was trying to keep me from betraying a friend.

It was a strange, embarrassing moment, which I didn’t fully heed. Once I recovered my ability to string words into sentences, I shared what I’d heard. And immediately regretted it. I regretted it more than my inability to speak moments earlier.

The human race would be far better off if our synapses did scramble whenever we were about to say something we regret.

If we suddenly started stuttering and sputtering, we would likely shut up. Or, better still, we would more carefully weigh what we were about to say before saying it, if for no other reason that to simply avoid the embarrassment of looking like a moron.

Imagine the arguments avoided, the gossip obliterated, the wars preempted, if only our bodies’ speaking mechanisms would shut down when our ignorance overloads our mouths.

It would be a stuttering, sputtering world, but it would be a much better one for it.