Ali: Avoid talking politics at Thanksgiving? Good luck. This year nothing’s neutral.

A vintage postcard of a chef with a large knife atop a turkey. At left is a wishbone over a pumpkin and other produce

A vintage postcard, from the collection of Times staff writer Patt Morrison, bears a 1912 postmark. It was sent from Florida to Brattleboro, Vt.

When visiting family for Thanksgiving, we all know better than to talk about the election, politics, or anything that might trigger a MAGA screed or ultra-lefty tirade from those we are finding harder and harder to love.

Stick to safe topics. It sounds simple and obvious. Of course you’re not going to talk about the looming economic disaster posed by tariffs or the scourge of pet-eating immigrants with The Other Side. You’re smarter than that, right?

Sure you are. But remember, Genius, everything is political so it’s critical to approach even seemingly innocuous subject matter with great caution. Hidden traps pose the most danger, and they’re everywhere, masquerading as boring, casual conversation.

One slip and you’ve triggered a mini culture war, so we’re here to help with a few tips and suggestions. Let’s start with an easy one, such as wondering aloud if the stuffing is gluten free (asking for a friend, of course).

Congratulations. You’ve just opened the hatch to a bottomless pit of grievance from your Joe Rogan-obsessed uncle who thinks all food allergies (except his gastric issues with green peppers) are a sign that virile American males are being replaced by nut-fearing sissies. The next 20 minutes will be spent trying to change the subject, an act that will inevitably lead to other hidden land mines … such as vegetables.

How offensive can a vegetable be, you ask? Very. Commenting on produce postelection is the verbal equivalent of dipping one’s toe in hot lava.

Example: “These green beans taste fresh picked.”

“By immigrants!” replies your liberal niece. You’ve set her off, and now she’ll make sure everyone knows that the bounty you’re about to eat was raised, harvested, killed and/or packed by undocumented workers. They’re the same folks who will be mass deported once Donald Trump takes office. She’s correct that it’s a cruel and inhumane policy, but her following comments — that she hates herself and everyone else for enjoying the poisoned fruits of their labor — are harder to defend. It rattles your mom, who wants everyone to set aside politics for the night and enjoy themselves.

Your niece retreats but not before cursing under her breath, in Spanish.

Tensions are high. The room’s gone quiet. Breaking the silence seems like a good idea, but how? Your daughter’s high school volleyball team is having a great year. That’s safe enough territory. “The Yellowjackets are really crushing it this season!”

Hear that sizzling sound? It’s uncle’s lit fuse. The next 10 minutes will be spent trying to divert the conversation away from “male-born transgender athletes” taking over women’s sports because it’s easier for them to win against a bunch of girls. Someone reminds him that he used to complain about all-female teams competing against one another at organized sports events, but he’s not listening. He’s popped his earbuds back in. It’s Rogan time.

The dinner’s now more stressful than President Biden’s last debate with Trump, or Trump’s only debate with Vice President Kamala Harris (depending on your perspective). What’s absolutely, positively not about politics? Family movies. You just saw “Wicked.” Let’s go there.

But no. The hit film, based on the hit Broadway musical of the same name, promotes themes of female empowerment and resistance against a grifting, impotent entertainer posing as an all-powerful being. That’s triggering.

And a Black actor, Cynthia Erivo, plays a leading role formerly popularized by a white performer in the stage production. Your brother’s clueless girlfriend once called Harris a “DEI hire” because she overheard it on Fox News. You corrected her. She still does it. Do you spend the rest of the night probing if she’s really a racist or just an idiot? Move on.

True crime. That’s it. Everyone loves a good murder story. “So you think the Menendez brothers will be released from prison?” you ask no one in particular. The next-door neighbor, who’s just arrived, only heard “will they be released from prison” and that sets him off. “The Jan. 6 rioters will definitely be pardoned by Trump because he’s their leader — and he’s a felon! What the hell is happening to the rule of law in this country? The Supreme Court. Sheesh.” Dad slugs down his fourth glass of wine.

In before times, you’d have already pulled the emergency hatch, dumping all substantive talk for empty chatter about the weather. But the horror of global warming has put an end to that. Besides, it’ll trigger the “h” word from Clueless Girlfriend: hoax. She knows it’s junk science because nothing has changed since she was a kid in the 1980s, and damn it’s hot in here. Can someone open a window? You remind her you’re dining on the patio, in Des Moines.

And whatever you do, don’t ask your niece if she has a boyfriend yet unless you want to spend dessert hearing about why your generation messed up everyone’s sexuality by assuming the entire population is cisgender. She accuses you of supporting Rep. Nancy Mace (R-S.C.), who recently introduced legislation that bars transgender women from using the women’s restroom in the Capitol. Never mind that you don’t live in South Carolina or that you loathe Mace and her politics. Someone needs to be the enemy.

Focus on the pie and don’t offer up anymore diversions. This is a disaster and you’re not helping. That’s when you hear the offending “non-offensive” conversation starters pour out of your mouth like it’s a faulty vending machine dispensing candy corn, and everyone hates that stuff.

Is everyone up to date on their flu shot?
Can you believe the price of eggs?
Read any good books lately?

No wonder they call that place on your face where words come out a “pie hole.” Time to plug it up with whatever is left on the table, and remind yourself you’ll never, ever do this again … until next Thanksgiving.

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