The highly respected public official immediately, yet unintentionally, eased any tension during our conversation by doing something I assumed she never did.

She cursed.

“That was a (expletive) case,” she told me nonchalantly.

I paused for a second before replying, smiling at her word choice.

“Pardon my language,” she added politely.

Pardon it? I quietly celebrated it. My penchant for cursing could make drunken sailors seem like Catholic nuns. It’s a bad habit I’ve had since my rebellious adolescent years, back when cursing felt empowering. I now know better. I still do it anyway.

There’s something about casual cursing (or do you say cussing?) that has a way of loosening up an otherwise formal chat or a tense situation. However, only if it’s done with tact in a non-confrontational tone. And, just as important, if it’s done sparingly.

That female public official used only a handful of well-placed curse words during our 45-minute exchange for an upcoming column. It was just the perfect amount of swearing, I thought. Enough to punctuate her point without polluting it. Otherwise, there is a noticeable tipping point that eventually dilutes the true power of cursing.

For example, a profanity-punched diatribe I heard from former boxing champ Mike Tyson during his one-man show, “Undisputed Truth,” at Horseshoe Casino in Hammond in 2014. “(Expletive) you, you fat stupid-(expletive) (N-word),” Tyson quipped, recalling one of his early fights.

Tyson cursed so many times during his show that I lost track of his stories. I also lost interest in his point. I wasn’t offended. I was bored. Technically, it was a knockout by too much cursing.

Profanity is frowned upon in polite social circles despite the proliferation of its occurrence in our foul-mouthed society, everywhere from school playgrounds to presidential campaigns. A few weeks ago I overheard an elementary school student tell another student to “(Expletive) off!”

I didn’t say anything to reprimand him. I figured he would tell me the same thing. I’ve never chastised or corrected anyone for cursing in public, or in private. I simply do what most people do in those situations – I quietly judge them.

Are they cursing only for effect? Or to impress others? Is it an organic part of their personality? Are they possibly unaware of their cursing? Do they first look around at their surroundings and then discreetly whisper curse words? Or do they let ‘em rip regardless of who’s around?

I have only lectured my two kids, and my two stepchildren, about cursing and its context. For instance, it’s one thing to use the F-word to describe a frustrating situation. It’s another thing to direct it at someone in anger. I overlooked the former, and condemned the latter.

Politicians get away with cursing in public these days more than ever before during the television era, I say. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention, or maybe their media-scrutinized fishbowl existence didn’t yet exist, but I don’t recall presidential candidates openly sharing curse words as if they’re platform promises.

According to Benjamin Bergen, author of “What the F: What Swearing Reveals About Our Language, Our Brains, and Ourselves,” politicians purposely swear to first grab our attention, then win our votes. Or try to anyway.

“When four-letter words are unexpected, they can be quite memorable,” writes Bergen, a professor of cognitive science at the University of California at San Diego. “Hearing them increases the listener’s heart rate and releases adrenaline.”

He cites President Trump’s early stump speeches that were punctuated by swear words. As well as Trump’s name-calling through use of a coarse term for a female body part. Grab ‘em by the curse words, so to speak.

Are you (expletive) disgusted or (expletive) used to it by now?

A few current Democratic presidential candidates have also used swearing to make a point or to grab voters’ attention. This includes Beto O’Rourke, whose use of the F-word was part of his campaign platform: “This is (expletive) up,” he said regarding our country’s mass shooting epidemic.

I was mildly surprised when Theresa Caputo, the “Long Island Medium,” repeatedly shot off her mouth with swear words during her performance at Four Winds Casino in New Buffalo, Mich. Her habitual swearing was more entertaining to me than her “channeling” of dead spirits from the afterlife.

Other entertainers are more nuanced, knowing precisely when and how to use swear words in their performance. When I attended a stand-up comedy show featuring Larry Reeb, he deftly delivered this gem of a joke with his trademark sneer: “I’m getting old. A kid pulled my finger and I (expletive) my pants.”

Off stage, during my one-on-one interview with him, Reeb didn’t use a single curse word. Not one. I always appreciated that about him. He didn’t need to swear to grab my attention or to win my vote about him. His appearance alone – like a cranky police detective from the ‘50s in a dark suit, white shirt and gumshoe scowl – did all the cussing without saying a word.

“That’s just another tip from your old Uncle Lar,” Reeb told me, joking that his longest relationship has been with a microphone.

Last month, I enjoyed watching Chicago Bears head coach Matt Nagy use a well-placed curse word while yelling at Mitch Trubisky on Monday Night Football. At a crucial timeout during their win against the Washington Redskins, a camera zoomed in on their sideline exchange. It showed Nagy telling his struggling quarterback: “… the (expletive) up, right now!”

I loved it. But only because Nagy doesn’t typically get caught cursing at his players on national TV. Or, heck, even in practice. Unlike Mike Ditka, who’s famously known for his profanity, Nagy’s sparing use of swearing added a fierceness to that sideline moment.

This should be our collective takeaway about cussing. If you’re going to swear, don’t use a shotgun approach. Be selective. Be your genuine self. And be careful that it’s not captured on video. Consider this a tip from your old Uncle Jer.

jdavich@post-trib.com