Hello, V-Chip; Goodbye, Television

So here I am with this new TV, the kind with a V-chip in its belly, which lets me screen out objectionable shows and make television safe again.

It’s a fine TV, with a little window in the corner that lets me watch two shows at once. And a remote control that I can read with my fingertips, like Braille.

But it’s this V-chip I’m curious about. Starting Jan. 1, almost every new TV will come with this V-chip. It lets parents program out stuff they don’t want the kids to see. Language. Sex. Violence. I wonder what will be left on TV if you program out all the objectionable language, sex and violence.

Click.

MONDAY NIGHT

In a perfect world, the only thing on opposite “Monday Night Football” would be “Monday Night Football” from a different camera angle.

Tonight’s game should be a good one. Seattle vs. Green Bay. But Seattle dominates.

Click.

“Veronica’s Closet.” Within the first three minutes, there are two butt jokes. I look at my V-chip menu. There’s no way to screen out butt jokes.

Meanwhile, Kirstie Alley, the show’s star, seems to be getting bigger right before our eyes. She may well be the only person in America gaining weight faster than I am.

Click.

“Ally McBeal.” Every pound that Kirstie Alley gains seems to come directly off the tiny frame of Calista Flockhart. In another season, she will be nothing but neck. A human paper clip.

In this episode, Ally is kissing someone. Wait, she’s kissing another woman!

Where’s that V-chip? How come it’s not working? I make a note to call the company.

Click.

TUESDAY NIGHT

I call the company. To get to the V-chip feature, you just have to keep hitting the menu button.

It’s pretty easy. You can select which items to screen out. Language. Violence. Sex.

This TV also offers something called V-CHIP Plus+, which lets parents block selected shows, instead of broad categories.

This entire V-chip process is based on those Scrabble letters you see before each program. TVPG (Parental Guidance). TVMA (Mature Audiences Only). When something objectionable comes along, the screen goes black.

“Your sister’s kind of a slut,” one of the characters says on the show we’re watching.

“I noticed that,” another character says.

There is no button for shows that are objectionable purely because they are objectionable. In that case, Tuesday-night television would be mostly black.

“Why do people find these shows funny?” the boy asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.

Click.

Here comes “Sports Night.” It comes highly recommended. But on this night, it is a sitcom without wit or humor, which makes it pretty much like other Tuesday sitcoms.

Click.

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” At times, the best-written show on television, but too intense for younger viewers. The V-chip quickly kicks in.

Click.

It’s 10 o’clock now. The kids are in bed. I disable the V-chip and watch “Once and Again,” one of those dramas about people just like us but with better hair. Halfway through, I fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

More sitcoms that seem like a thousand other sitcoms. Frenetic shows without a single quiet moment.

Click. Click. Click.

I think about all the families I know that ban television during the week. Think it’s unusual? It’s not unusual. I was at a speedway recently. Nearby, a mechanic was talking about how his wife won’t let the kids watch TV during the week.

It’s not unusual.

Click. I look for a ballgame. The little girl falls asleep on my shoulder.

Click.

THURSDAY NIGHT

There’s this show on the WB network called “Popular.” The central dramatic moment is a food fight in the cafeteria.

Click.

“Frasier.”

Click.

An old rerun of “Taxi.” Latka is marrying Simka. In five minutes, there are more great lines than I have seen in three previous nights of television.

Click.

“ER.” Alan Alda guests as a doctor. He flips out. I don’t want Alan Alda to flip out. He’s the best doctor TV ever had. He shouldn’t flip out. He should be attacking managed care. Radar O’Reilly should wander in carrying a sick sheep.

But it’s a good show. For the first time all week, I make it to 11 o’clock.

Click.

FRIDAY NIGHT

I look at the TV listings. We go out to dinner.

SATURDAY NIGHT

Once upon a time, this night was ruled by such shows as “All in the Family,” “MASH,” “Mary Tyler Moore,” “Newhart.”

Now, Saturday night features such classics as “Martial Law” and “Walker, Texas Ranger.”

Click. Click.

The V-chip, set at full power, blocks out almost every show.

Click.

We turn on the Laker game.

SUNDAY NIGHT

School night. The kids do homework. My wife reads a book.

Somehow, we make it through the evening without that background din that TV brings to a home. The laugh tracks. The butt jokes. The extra-loud commercials. Like a lot of families, we’ve just turned the TV off.

Starting Jan. 1, virtually every TV sold in America will come armed with this V-chip.

By then, maybe it won’t matter.

Chris Erskine’s column is published on Wednesdays. His e-mail address is chris.erskine@latimes.com.