Cat got your tongue?

I think we have all been in one of those situations where we have said something we wish we could take back.  We might have said something that embarrassed us by showing our ignorance, hurt someone's feelings, or gotten us into a bit of trouble.  Think back to your most recent incident.  For me, the most recent was accidentally telling my girlfriend she should work out more.  That one got me into a little bit of trouble.  No serious consequences though; don't worry! Whatever inane thing has fallen out of your mouth, I bet you wish there were a way to rewind time and prevent yourself from saying that thing again.  Well, what would you say if I told you that there is a way to do that -- sort of!

To know how to prevent blabbing out dumb from our mouths, let's take a look at how these conversations usually unfold.  In my experience (no comment on the quantitative measures of my experience), I will usually be trying to make a joke when I accidentally cross some moral, ethical or relational line.  Shortly following, the person I am with will let me know what I have done (or I'll realize on my own -- this is no better), and I'll try to backtrack my way back to good graces.  In the process of backtracking, I'll get into a bout between quickly trying to fix the problem, but not wanting to screw it up even farther.  This struggle will force me to clumsily stutter between my words, trying to be very careful, as I am dealing with a delicate situation.  This stuttering is very well described and made fun of by third party observers as, "Cat got your tongue?"

Which leads me to: what if a cat really did have my tongue?  Depending on when the cat got a hold of my tongue, I would have never "stuck my foot in my mouth" in the first place.  It might be better for me to carry a cat around in the chest pocket on my shirt so he can grab my tongue before it is too late.  Of course, I would have to give a stern and austere talking to the cat if he snatched my tongue via violent and forceful measures.  I would sit the cat down, and I would calmly say, "listen to me, feline!  You are here to prevent me from looking like an oaf -- not prevent me from saying anything ever again.  Do your job!  AND DO IT RIGHT, IDIOT!"  I hate to be so brash and saucy, but those cats won't listen unless you let them know who's in charge.

It would also be nice to be able to put something in that superfluous pocket.  I think you are supposed to put pens and pencils in there, but I am too vain for that sort of thing.  I wouldn't mind putting a cat in that pocket.  Unlike people who put writing utensils in there, there would be no way any kind of negative slang ("nerd," "dweeb," "dork...") would be thrown to people storing anti-foot-in-mouth-cats in that pocket.

I've got the preventative side of the issue taken care of; now somebody needs to engineer some machine to take us back in time to recover from past slip-ups.  Get on it!