The Sheinhardt Wig Company doesn’t mess around. Win a Best Comedy Series Emmy for their NBC subsidiary, and they’ll take good care of you. They’ll even pry Jerry Seinfeld from his top-secret honeycomb (in luxurious Greniarnia?) to kick-start your second season with a much buzzed about cameo. (Have you heard he has a Bee Movie coming to theaters near you?)
Yes, life is good at 30 Rock, and things are lining up for ol’ Liz Lemon. Sure, ex-boyfriend Floyd had traded the hamlet of Manhattan for the big time — Cleveland — but as Seinfeld pointed out, that relationship is far from kaput. Lemon’s obviously not over him, but do we want him back? Do we need him back? It’s only season 2, folks. Give our girl some room to breathe. To grow. To eat ham sammiches while wearing a South Korean funeral dress.
Speaking of eating, there was nothing mystic about the pizza Jenna inhaled during hiatus. Jack nailed it when he said, “She has to lose 30 pounds or gain 60. Anything in between has no place on television.” Well, perhaps there is room for her on Are You Stronger Than a Dog? or America’s Top Pirate but certainly not MILF Island. (Quick question: Are Jack’s midseason replacement titles any more ridiculous than SciFi’s Who Wants to be a Superhero? or NBC’s Age of Love?)
I do have a few bones to pick, though. While Seinfeldvision was a clever and ironic way to incorporate Seinfeld, his appearance led to my parietal lobe being seared by the mental imagery of Tracy’s threesome with Elayne Boosler. More importantly, the Jack I love and respect is cold and calculating. I don’t want to see Jack Bauer at a Greenpeace rally, I didn’t care for JR Ewing’s little-known stint at Habitat for Humanity, and part of me died when Jack Donaghy folded under pressure and bawled like a child. Maybe that cardiac episode did some real damage after all. Paging Dr. Spaceman.