30 Rock is not a better show than The Office, but last night it was.

Maybe the latter had too much dark humor and too little Jam, but the contrast between Tina Fey & Co. and the Dunder-Mifflin gang was striking, especially back-to-back.

Anyway, “Corporate Crush” turned out to be an apropos title for 30 Rock, though who had a crush on who was surprising. And who knew history, or hollow bones, could be so funny?

Liz (Fey) enters all smiles, creeping Frank (Judah Friedlander) out. Seems Floyd (Jason Sudeikis) has her walking on air. He gets her, as a series of funny/corny flashbacks illustrates.

Jack (Alec Baldwin) isn’t smiling, though. GE Exec Don Geiss (Rip Torn) comes down hard on him for his midtown “Salute to Fireworks.� Despite his vote of confidence, Don strips Jack of his title as director of microwave programming, then makes an issue of the fact that Jack’s the only one single exec in his division (though some guy named Bob has a wife who looks like Walter Matthau.

Tracy (Tracy Jordan), eager to pitch a movie idea to Don, pulls out all the stops to impress him, like offering grenadine and fried rice. But things get off to a rough start when Don mistakes the title, Jefferson, for a remake of the 70s sit-com The Jeffersons.

Tracy: No, Thomas Jefferson. I just found out that he went to town on one of my ancestors, so we’re related.

Don: You want to play Thomas Jefferson?

Tracy: And Sally Hemmings and King George. I’m going to play all the parts. Did you know he had a lisp? ‘Whatthh up thtupid jerkth? I’m Thomath Jefferthon.’ So I’m going to need about $35 million to do this thing right.

Meanwhile, Liz is still in a good mood, at least until Kenneth (Jack McBrayer) tells her Jack needs her at Christie’s Auction House, where he only goes when he’s depressed. Liz finds him there with flirty Phoebe, who handled the sale of his ex-wife’s jewelry to an anonymous Arab.

When Phoebe leaves, Jack tells Liz she let him down by not being there when he was pitching the fireworks idea.

Jack: You left me dangling Lemon. I’m not a creative type like you with your work sneakers and your left-handedness. I can’t do what you do.

Liz: I know. I dropped the ball. I was just trying to do what you said and have a personal life, and I guess I got caught up with this new guy.

Jack: Oh right, flower guy.

Liz: His name’s Floyd.

Jack: That’s unfortunate.

Jack insists Liz and Floyd meet him for dinner that night. Awkward seed planted.

Meanwhile, Tracy is complaining to Kenneth – who’s crocheting a bikini top featuring NBC’s peacock logo for his nana – that Geiss shot down his Jefferson pitch. Geiss would rather see a sequel to the movie where Tracy turns into a dog. But Tracy, wanting to be taken seriously, decides to make a trailer for his bio-pic.

Out in the hallway, Liz balks at his request to take over the set for three weeks to make the trailer. She’s his Alexander Hamilton, whatever that means. So he turns to the writers.

At dinner, Floyd is gushing about Jack, whose book, “Jack Attack: The Art of Aggression,� he’s read 20 times. A lame joke fails to impress Jack, but fawning sycophancy never fails. The company’s stability in the small appliance market is largely Jack’s doing, Floyd says. The dedicated popcorn setting alone was the imagination breakthrough of 1995. Soon, Liz is a third wheel.

Later, she finds Tracy in his dressing room with a horse he’s using for the Jefferson trailer. Turns out, he got permission from Jack. When Liz goes to Jack’s office to complain, she finds Jack and Phoebe there admiring equestrian paintings. Phoebe declines to shake hands because of her avian bone syndrome – hollow bones.

Even with the beautiful Phoebe present, Jack’s emerging crush on Floyd, who he’s dubbed The Floydster, is apparent. He even buys him a horse painting, and talk turns to a promotion. Next thing Liz knows, she’s joining Jack and Floyd for lunch.

That night, Liz and Floyd are settling down for the night (When did they start living together?) when Floyd’s cell rings. It’s Jack. He wants Floyd to meet him for a veggie burger and a milkshake. Soon they’re hiding from a barrage of text messages, phone calls and a front door buzzer.

Turns out Jack was just trying to leave off tickets to Jack’s private Knicks skybox for them. But, as Jack’s assistant Jonathan notes, “someone pretended not to be home.�

Tracy shows Don his movie trailer. The dialogue is ridiculous, the costumes authentic and the backdrops range from cheesy to pretty much just modern day. At 1 minute, 19 seconds, this is further proof of this show’s dedication to comic detail, following last week’s graphic illustration of a 10-second Internet sit-com. Too bad Don wasn’t nearly as impressed.

At the Knicks game, Jack’s chewing Floyd’s ear off, and Liz is annoyed.

Liz: Don’t you kind of feel like a third wheel, Jack?

Jack: Oh no, Lemon. You’re the third wheel.

Liz: Excuse me?

Jack: Well, it’s really quite simple. Men seek out the company of other men they admire and want to be like. Floyd is me 20 years ago. I’m Don Geiss 30 years ago. Twenty years from now, Floyd will be me, I’m going to be Don Geiss and Don Geiss will be dead.

Liz: Who thinks like that?

Jack: Men. That’s why you’re the third wheel.

Liz tells him to back off. He may be in a bad place, but he needs to find his own Floydster because she’s not sharing. Like the skybox, his life if fancy, empty and smells like crab cakes, she says. Harsh.

Tracy says he turned down Don’s $7 million offer to make the dog movie sequel and vows instead to make Jefferson himself. First order of business, get the dead horse out of his car.

At Christie’s, as Jack rambles, Phoebe offers to show him another piece he might enjoy. She’ll have to take him back to the private office, she says, because it’s a delicate piece very few people have handled. He hopes they’re talking about the same thing.

Next thing Liz knows, Jack’s seeking her approval of Phoebe. And before Liz can stop him, Jack’s proposing to her. It’d be a touching moment except that his every touch hurts her. Avian bone syndrome, you know.

So there you have it, two unresolved conflicts – Tracy’s determination to make his movie and Jack’s rash decision to get engaged. Throw in the Fliz romance, which is moving right along, and 30 Rock has transformed into a serial dramedy.

It’s Grey’s Anatomy, only shorter, funnier and with about one-third the audience. Even better, it’s a shorter, funnier, still-on-the-air Studio 60.

Heck, it’s almost The Office.