My grandfather, wise man that he was, offered me one of the finest tidbits of wisdom for which I am forever grateful. The fact that he gave it to me at the ripe old age of eight, and that I had no clue what he was talking about, is beside the point. Yet, over the years I have assimilated this commandment of civility into the core of my outlook on life.

Never discuss— in polite company, genteel discussion, or anything else that resembles cordial conversation:Politics. Religion. Sex.

At eight years of age, I had zero clue what he meant. Politics is what adults talked or ranted about. Religion is what you did on Sunday and mostly meant boredom in the pew—or Sunday school. And sex? Probably the most embarrassing word you could ever say around a kid for which you had no idea what it was.

Though I respected my Grandad, his saying reminded me of Mark Twain’s fit of brilliance: “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”

Years later, (and way past the age of 21), I asked my Grandad about this amazing proclamation he had shared with me in my youth that, for some reason, I still didn’t fully comprehend.

“It’s simple. Because it’s nobody’s damn business.”

Now in a world where everyone has an opinion on everything and everybody, and they want to share it at any time of day or night with anyone that wants to or doesn’t want to listen, and with the head shaking speed of Internet instantaneous, I now fully comprehended the brilliance of Grandpa’s powerful principle, and its simplicity to avoid uncivil stupidity. “Because it’s nobody’s damn business.” And he’s right.

Now with the holidays upon us—and those joyous Christmas dinners, parties, gatherings—I grappled with the conversational time bomb that lurked at all these celebrations—where in single moment, the festive frivolity could suddenly be reduced into a mudslinging circus. And who’s the culprit? Politics.

So, how do we solve this seemingly unsolvable and incomprehensible problem? With Grandpa’s help, of course. And his “it’s nobody’s damn business” commandment (of course, with a slightly updated twist of the commandment tail).

Before your shindig begins, declare that all talk of politics, religion, or sex is verboten —and give Grandpa his just due. But if the rule broken and one can’t quite keep the political tongue from wagging, then the penalty will be sex—as in talking about it.

What? That’s right. If you talk politics, then we all talk sex—first. Religion would be nice, but sex is “sexier.”

And who doesn’t want to talk about sex. Everyone. Okay, there’s always going to be a smartass or two that will talk politics just for the delight of the “penalty,” but trust me on this one. Nobody but nobody will want to talk sex.

Nobody will want to talk about positions. Or kinks. Or combinations. Or clothes—or not to clothes. Nobody will talk about their kinky Amazon orders. You can sort of flirt around Victoria’s Secret, which is the safest version of peek-a-boo propriety but eventually that could lead you into sex talk.

Will this holiday blackmail actually work? We’ll see. But one thing is for certain—it will give everyone a laugh, and a slightly uncomfortable one at that. But if it actually keeps the peace at the Yuletide celebrations, then I say it’s worth it.

So, let’s ensure the Grinch of politics doesn’t spoil our merrymaking. Let’s make certain that sex and Christmas are not talked about in the same sentence (at least in “polite” company). And let’s toast Grandpa, and his universal peace-making, joy-giving, smile-inducing, “it’s nobody’s damn business” commandment to be joyfully enjoyed by all this holiday season.