If you’re here with us amongst the living, you know that 30 Rock took its final bow on NBC Thursday night. Once upon a time, I had some crazy pie-in-the-sky dream of finding something original to write about it. Yeah, about that…
Best lines? Covered. Favorite episodes? Yep. Cameos? Minor characters? A ranking of Liz’s boyfriends? Yes, yes, and yes. The pop culture web community was all over this one like Tracy Jordan on a one-armed stripper.
But HoF cannot let this milestone pass without comment. So here is my own personal note of appreciation to the show that brought Liz Lemon, “Muffin Top” and the phrase, “Never go with a hippy to a second location” into my life. I owe it this much.
Thanks for everything, 30 Rock. But especially…
For filming in New York.
30 Rock was a show for, by, and about New York. Not fairtytale, Sex and the City New York. Real, weird, gross, callous, ugly, wonderful New York. And for we in the five boroughs, it was a good feeling to know that, on any given day, those pink signs might be posted around Rockefeller Center or Scott Adsit might be in front of you in line at Eataly.
For perfectly articulating my every hope for my future mate.
“I want someone who will be monogamous and nice to his mother. And I want someone who likes musicals, but knows to just shut his mouth when I’m watching Lost. And I want someone who thinks being really into cars is lame and strip clubs are gross. I want someone who will actually empty the dishwasher instead of just taking out forks as needed, like I do. I want someone with clean hands and feet and beefy forearms like a damn Disney prince. And I want him to genuinely like me, even when I’m old. And that’s what I want.” – Liz Lemon
For bringing Donald Glover into my life.
Without 30 Rock, I may never have seen Troy Barnes cry or gotten my white-girl-swag on to “Freaks and Geeks.”
For showing me that a little self-promotion never killed anyone.
Jenna’s relentless pursuit of relevance didn’t make her many friends; but frankly, friends aren’t really what she was looking for. Sure, she’s crass and shameless and selfish, but at least she’s honest about her priorities. Put in relief of Hollywood fakery and air kisses, Jenna’s steamrolling ambition is actually pretty refreshing.
For Liz and Jack’s friendship.
Shippers gotta ship, but Liz and Jack were just the ultimate BrOTP to me. (I just tracked the “Liz and Jack” Tumblr tag to find this gif, and had to frantically scroll through some Liz/Jack fic. I’m sorry, I just can’t. It’s too incestuous.) Their friendship brought depth to this cuckoo-bird, crazy-pants backstage farce, and reflected Alec’s IRL respect and love for Tina.
For paying Tracy Morgan to do 7 straight years of bizarro performance art.
What WAS the ratio of Morgan to Jordan in there? And also, who cares?
For the gift of Elizabeth Miervaldis “Liz” Lemon.
There’s a reason that even hot, non-socially awkward girls with a healthy relationship with food have been comparing themselves to Lemon since day one. Liz Lemon is me. Liz Lemon is you. Liz Lemon is all of us, and also better than all of us. She eats night cheese and sings about it. Oprah is her spiritual leader. She has an imaginary astronaut boyfriend named Mike Dexter. She once got parasites from eating sushi on Amtrak. She’s always hungry for terrible food and has bodily functions and finds sex kind of gross, actually. Without her, we’d have no Leslie Knopes or Hanna Horvaths. We needed Liz Lemon and now here she is in our cultural consciousness to approve our Saturday nights in and that second order of mozzarella sticks. Here’s to you, bb.
For proving that an obsession with TV isn’t a personal failing.
Tell my parents that all these hours of marathoning shows on Netflix Instant are just research for when I become head of a network.
Good night, sweet 30 Rock. You served us faithfully. You served us well. Thank you for making TV for people who love TV.