On the 20th anniversary of the NBC sitcom, a look back at how it’s both a time capsule and timeless.
(Art Streiber/NBC/Getty Images)
October 8, 2026 at 11:30 a.m. EDTToday at 11:30 a.m. EDT
This month, “30 Rock” — the NBC cult sitcom that was Tina Fey’s singularly brilliant, satirized send-up of a “Saturday Night Live”-esque sketch comedy show — somehow turns 20.
We say somehow because even though the show is old enough to vote, it has aged like a fine D’Fwine. Revisit its seven stellar seasons, and you’ll be reminded of why it is among the most enduring TV comedies: The incessant, whip-smart jokes delivered with impeccable timing; the oddball, unforgettable characters and their dynamic chemistry; the plotlines that seamlessly stitched together incisive parody, outright lunacy and uncanny prescience; and let us not forget the songs.
On the occasion of this momentous anniversary, four Washington Post staffers gathered to discuss the abiding cultural significance — and iconic gags — of one of the greatest television comedies ever.
The four of us have a particular fixation with this show. So let’s start there. There’s so much new television out there, but make your elevator pitch on why “30 Rock” deserves to be watched today.
It contained multitudes. “30 Rock” was a workplace comedy; a send-up of the political eras in which it took place (Bush-era patriotism, Obama-era optimism); a “Can Women Have it All” career-gal feminist chronicle; a parody of its own media environment, in which the scripted network sitcom was being surpassed by reality slop.
From the very beginning, it consistently offered up impeccable, razor-sharp writing, and the sheer velocity of it was dazzling. I loved that the humor was so unexpected — “30 Rock” always went one step further or one step weirder than audiences were ever anticipating, which made the jokes unforgettable. (Deep cut, but of my personal favorites of the genre, uttered by the late, great Catherine O’Hara: “Remember the kid who bullied you in high school? Well, I ate that goat.”) Plus, the show had genuinely memorable, standout characters with incredible chemistry. (Liz Lemon and Tracy Jordan! Liz Lemon and Jenna Maroney! Liz Lemon and Jack Donaghy!)
Just by the joke ratio alone, it should be considered one of the funniest comedies of all time. You can rewatch it two, three, four times (but who’s counting?) and still miss lines simply because of the density of absurd/hilarious comments. And you know a show is top-tier when so many A-listers (Oprah, Matt Damon, Julianne Moore, etc.) agree to a cameo or arc.
We never seem to tire of our old friends, Liz Lemon, Tracy Jordan and Jenna Maroney. (Ali Goldstein/NBC/Getty Images)
I also think of it as the apex of a creative relationship between two people — Tina Fey and Tracy Morgan. Fey really got Morgan, how funny of an actor he really was, in a way that (as I’ve heard him describe in interviews) few others did, and it all manifested in the character of Tracy Jordan. “30 Rock” is a work of creative alchemy among people who really see each other. … Sorry to get woo-woo so soon, it was bound to happen.
Considering that the show features a running gag about a mystical, immortal being, I think the woo-woo vibes are entirely fitting!
It’s been off the air for more than a decade now! No such thing as spoilers!
How often do you all rewatch?
I’m going to make a confession that will make me sound somehow even more ancient than I already feel: I own the entire series on DVD.
I’ve done several rewatches but not in a while, so I’m overdue. It’s my comfort show.
I’ll go back to some of my favorite episodes fairly frequently (when Liz goes to Cleveland, also the one where Tracy tries to stab Conan O’Brien), but I rewatch the entire series once every couple of years.
(Ali Goldstein/NBC/Getty Images)
I have rewatched it enough times that my husband jokes that I quote it like the Bible. I’ll spout out a joke from the show, and he’ll intone in a deep voice: “BOOK OF THE ROCK, SEASON 3, EPISODE 14: THE FUNCOOKER.” (I have a problem.) But beyond the enduring brilliance of the writing, I think revisiting it always reminds me of the show’s downright eerie foreshadowing?!
I started a full-fledged, comfort-fueled rewatch last year and something was particularly jarring to me: how well it held up, and at the same time, how much of a time capsule it was for a particular era in politics and entertainment.
And yet it also seemed to really sense where we were going, both in terms of politics and entertainment!
What strikes me is how smart the show was about skewering its own industry. Even back then, they knew that the best hope for TV executives was “make it 1997 again through science or magic” — we see that happening all the time now with constant reboots. They made fun of reality TV, but “MILF Island” basically became a real show on TLC called “MILF Manor.” And “Queen of Jordan,” Tracy’s wife’s reality show, would easily be in its 20th season on Bravo in real life.
Remember “Makin’ It Happen,” the 10-second dramas created by Devon Banks (Will Arnett)? Aren’t we … in the micro-drama era now?
LOL, yes/sob. And all the product placement!
Liz Lemon, looking directly to camera: “Can we have our money now?”
The merger episodes: Imagine what they’d be doing now, with Skydance/Warner Bros.!
I mean, the entire Kabletown storyline …
(Ali Goldstein/NBC/Getty Images)
There’s the episode where Jack Donaghy digitally inserts old footage of Jerry Seinfeld into whatever NBC program Donaghy wants — “Seinfeld-Vision”? They saw celebrity deepfakes long before that was a thing!
I’m just gonna say: that killer Bill Cosby joke. “Bill Cosby, you got a lotta nerve getting on the phone with me after what you did to my Aunt Paulette!” — Tracy Jordan says, crying, at a time when Cosby was still considered America’s dad.
They also referenced Harvey Weinstein, in the way that only Jenna could: “I’m not afraid of anyone in show business. I turned down intercourse with Harvey Weinstein on no less than three occasions — out of five.”
And of course there were so many prescient political jokes, too — I think there is, uh, a lot about our current era that might feel uncomfortably resonant if you go back and watch the off-the-wall episode featuring John Slattery as political candidate “Steve Austin.”
They did politics really well. I think about Kenneth’s jokes often, because some of them were very predictive — “Science is my most favorite subject, especially the Old Testament.”
Dr. Spacemen: “Science is whatever we want it to be.”
My most recent rewatch has been surreal because it plops us in Jack Donaghy’s version of the GOP: the height of George W. Bush, War in Iraq, then it went to the Mitt Romney/the “businesses are people, too” era.
It pretty deftly skewers the left (Liz, Pete Hornberger, Toofer) and the right (Jack and Kenneth, obviously).
They ridiculed corporate greed but also the righteous indignation over it. Remember when Liz feels so morally superior because she finds her new favorite pair of jeans at a store she’s convinced is local, artisanal and fair trade?
Ah yes, who could forget Brooklyn Without Limits — which turned out to be owned by Halliburton, as Donaghy explains: “In the mid-’90s, they found themselves with a surplus of canvas waterboarding hoods, so they had sweatshops make them into messenger bags to sell to outer-borough idiots.”
It was kind of a high-wire act of comedy. It’s not the “if both sides are angry at you, you’re doing something right.” It’s just the, “make the joke wherever there is funny.” Sometimes there were big stumbles — notably episodes where characters played by Jane Krakowski and Jon Hamm were in blackface. (Fey asked streamers to pull those episodes during the height of the racial reckoning, telling them, “I understand now that ‘intent’ is not a free pass for White people to use these images.”)
I think Liz Lemon is also one of the most honest portrayals of a career woman on television, ever. Her job seems glamorous but kind of sucks! She can be petty and mean, but also sticks up for her people and cares about work way more than she should. She goes into goblin mode whenever she gets home: horrible T-shirts, night cheese.
And what are some of your favorite running jokes? I loved the weird obsession with Italians. (“Can I get a hug?” “What is this, the Italian Parliament?”)
My absolute favorite long-burn joke is that Kenneth is immortal.
Frank Rossitano’s rotating trucker hats, the more random the better: “Smells,” “Teenage Grandpa,” “Mom Expert.”
Looking back, it’s sort of a miracle that this show survived as long as it did. When it premiered, it went head-to-head with a much more prestigious Aaron Sorkin series (“Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”) with a similar premise and a star-studded cast. Everyone expected “30 Rock” to be the one to fail, but it went on for seven seasons, and Sorkin’s drama lasted one season. I feel like there’s some sweet lesson in there.
The ratings really weren’t that great for broadcast TV, but it was such a critical hit (nominated for 103 Emmy Awards and won 16 times) and clearly had cultural staying power that propelled it long beyond the finale.
Maybe the lesson is to make the thing you really want to make and have a blast doing it. You could tell that “30 Rock” was made by people who really knew how to let it rip in the writer’s room and went for whatever was making them laugh hardest, even if it was bizarre or inside-baseball or a little uncomfortable. Mass popularity usually demands conformity, and this show didn’t conform. I think I’m talking myself into my [NUMBER REDACTED] rewatch.
It’s been two decades since the lights went up on Studio 6H, and we still want to go to there.