I’m told there is something wrong with my television. According to someone who knows (read: thinks they know), my TV’s scope is limited. It apparently only gets baseball, basketball, football, cop shows with serial killers and “Gutfield.”

This “fact” was presented to me the other day. My response, as I flipped back and forth between a Cleveland Guardians game and an episode of “Criminal Minds: Evolution” was this:

“You say that like it’s a problem. What else does anyone need?”

Wrong answer. I know that now.

The correct answer, apparently, is a never-ending stream of snobbish period pieces set in the UK, either in the late 1800s or early 1900s. And before you ask, no, “Peaky Blinders” doesn’t qualify.

I asked because it’s a British period piece I actually enjoy, but there’s too much gunplay, bombs and other forms of violence and not enough classical music, boring and pointless story lines and formal dances in which everyone prances around and sounds like Hugh Grant or Emma Thompson.

Or something like that.

And yes, for the record, I still think Minnie Driver sounds like something that should be in my golf bag.

“Wow, you really clobbered that with your Minnie Driver. Can I try it on the next tee?”

That line a tool known as “writer’s embellishment,” because no one has ever watched me swing a golf club and wanted to immediately duplicate what I just did.

And yes, I realize I typed Indians and not Guardians. I wasn’t one of those militant nuts who swore off Cleveland baseball after the name change, but I grew up with the Indians and Siri still knows what I mean when I ask her for the Indians’ score.

I also realize that not everyone likes “Gutfeld.” His brand of humor is an acquired taste, but I thought he was amusing back in the “Redeye” days (nights, actually) and who doesn’t like a cheap shot at the cast of “The View” every now and then? (OK, so it’s every time I’ve ever watched.)

People can take issue with my sense of humor. I don’t mind. People — as a former publisher once said — have the right to be wrong.

Or something like that.

What we might find funny might fall completely flat for a different audience. Some school board members didn’t like it at all the first time I opened a column about the firing of a football coach with this, from Mark Twain: “In the first place God made idiots. This was for practice. Then he made school boards.”

Can’t imagine why that went over like a lead balloon. I recycled it a decade or so later for another deserving crew with similar results.

And then there was the basketball coach who wasn’t a fan of a story I wrote about his team’s riveting 23-20 victory in which the teams combined for four single-digit quarter — with each failing to score at all in a quarter. The teams combined to shoot 12 percent from the floor with 82 turnovers.

I’m still not sure if he objected more to the line “more bricks than a construction site” or “more turnovers than a bakery.” But when I saw him a couple nights later at another game, he used a word or two I’ve — thankfully — never worked into a game story.

I was young then and I’ve grown a bit since then. The scale in the bathroom can verify that. I’d never write that now, unless the teams shot in single-digits from the floor and had at least 50 turnovers each.

But seriously, 82 turnovers was some kind of feat, considering that there are just 32 minutes in a high school game. Do the math.

Even in my advancing years, I haven’t outgrown cop shows. Not only did my parents never put me in a car seat and smoked cigarettes like they were trying to win something in a wacky, radio-station contest, they also dropped me in front of a TV to watch “Hawaii 5-0” and “Mannix” without even giving it a thought. My first words might have been “Book ’em, Dano!”

Strangely enough, all these years later I don’t smoke and I’m neither a criminal nor a police officer.

But I’ll always have some favorite cop shows and movies. Some old, some more recent. I’ll put together a list soon … on another one of those days when I can’t write or read one more word about politics.

Ed Puskas is editor of the Tribune Chronicle and The Vindicator. Reach him at 330-841-1786 or epuskas@tribtoday.com.