According to NBC, there’s at least one new episode of 30 Rock left, but after last week I’m just going to pretend the funny is going to last forever.

How can I face the harsh inevitability of a strike-induced hiatus cutting off my weekly fix of Liz Lemon’s alopecia, Tracy Jordan’s far Eastern fan base, Frank’s Harvard aspirations and Jack’s struggle with a corporate “Bros before Hos” policy”?

The short answer is, I can’t. So I’m going to pretend “LudaChristmas”, next week’s holiday special, is just another in a long and continuing line of new episodes wherein the squirrels are not afraid of people, Shaquille O’Neal stars in soft-core pornographic animation and getting sharked is the least insulting thing that can happen to you at a fictional awards ceremony.

Comedy might never be her day job, but from Mrs. Tony Soprano to C.C., Jack Donaghy’s illicit liberal love interest, Edie Falco has shown she can hold her own with a screen-filling leading man.

C.C.: I can’t keep sneaking around, Jack. It’s too dangerous. I’m trying to get the United States government to sue your parent company.

Jack: Take off your pant suit.

C.C.: Right back at’cha.

I don’t know what was funnier, Liz revealing she gave up caffeine and now goes to bed at 5:30 or C.C. complimenting Liz’s necklace, only to have Liz reveal it once held a rape whistle that broke off and she kept it because she liked how it looked.

Actually, I do know. It was Jack introducing C.C. as Lukeisha Guttierrez Arafat. By the way, Jack’s fawning assistant Jonathan, played by Maulik Pancholy, is the most underrated character on the show.

DVR avoidance continues at full strength as Kenneth’s American Express spots continue to confound even the most sharp-eyed fast-forwarders. I’m still not convinced I can’t leave home without the card, but I did learn that Pete’s gentleman’s lunch consists of sushi and the lesbian scene from “Mullholland Drive”.

C.C. and Jack continue their multi-episode arc with Jack in a bind. C.C. is pressuring for legal action against NBC’s parent company, Sheinhardt Wigs, for polluting a river (art imitates life, anyone?) and turning a bunch of little kids orange. He could lose the CEO gig he covets if their romance became public.

He turns to Liz for advice, inviting her to a dinner party. Advice of the year: Don’t come dressed like a small-town lesbian. I’ve no idea what that means. It leads to the exchange of the year, as Jack is loath to let even the writing staff in on his dilemma.

Jack: Well Lemon, that was a good chat. Good luck with that alopecia problem of yours.
Liz: Oh come on. I don’t have that…Very hairy.

Yikes! Anyway, let’s take a trip back to the show’s roots, when Jack hired Tracy Jordan to boost ratings for The Girlie Show, drawing star Jenna Maroney’s ire and jealousy. We hear as little about that rivalry these days as we do about the renamed TGS with Tracy Jordan.

Well, when Jenna waltzes in with the NY City Critic’s Association Award naming her best actress in a movie based on a musical based on a movie, Tracy gets predictably jealous and starts making demands.

Tracy: “Where are the french fries I did not ask for? You need to anticipate my needs!”

It’s Liz’s turn to deal with him. Pete took care of it when he wanted to change his name to Wise Greasy Bastard.

Tracy’s tired of playing second fiddle. His animated movie with Shaquille O’Neal movie seems, umm, not-kid-appropriate. I had to replay that one line three times because I couldn’t believe I’d heard it right. Anyway, all he got for that was $1 million and a yellow Bentley. Talk about disrespect. Even his kids got him a World’s #4 Dad mug. He’s ready to give up and try this crystal meth he’s heard so much about.

So Liz lies and tells him he won the lifetime Achievement award from the Pacific Rim Emmy’s. You know, the Pacific Rim Emmy’s. Tracy has loved Japan since he filmed Samurai I Amurai. And he especially loves sharking, where you pull down women’s tube tops on the street while a friend videotapes it. Dang Puritans made that a crime here.

It’s no wonder Godzilla doesn’t meddle in the affairs of humans.

But now Tracy’s ego is out of control. He’s demanding a 4 a.m. live-via-satellite feed for the nonexistent Emmy’s. That gets Jenna miffed seeing Liz bend over backwards to accommodate him. She can’t even get a real exterminator to get that squirrel out of her dressing room.

Tracy eats up Liz’s ploy, throwing a shout-out to Shelly Long and sharking Jenna, who’s only mad Shelly Long got thanked over her. So in protest, she turns diva. You’re already wondering how anyone would tell.

At Jack’s house, Liz arrives late to find Kenneth is the only guest. Anyone with connections, influence or stature was crossed off. That left her and Kenneth, for conversation. And he’s got flashcards.

The next day C.C. comes around to talk to Liz. She can’t keep sneaking around with Jack anymore. She’s already put on a mustache and pretended to be a plumber. Is Jack worth it?

Liz: I don’t think you want to take advice from me on this. I ate a three musketeers bar this morning for breakfast and this bra is held together with tape.
C.C.: Oh Liz, please.
Liz: Well, Jack is great, and he’s crazy about you, but have you ever compromised for a man before?
C.C.: No.
Liz: Me either. Oh God it was my birthday yesterday.
C.C.: I’m going to talk to Jack
Liz: Yeah, I think you should.

So C.C. convinces the orange kids to settle so she and Jack can go public. But he’s still up for that CEO job. Maybe in a year, he tells her. When she protests, he turns nasty: He likes when a woman has ambition. It’s like a dog wearing clothes.

Jack’s ticked at Liz for interfering. No one gets what he’s going through, he laments, until he spots James Carville on the elevator. There’s nothing like the advice of a pinko nutjob. Get out in front of it, Cajun-style, Carville says.

On top of threatening to get NBC tours pregnant, Jenna’s hired a bitchy (and hilariously random) entourage, is skipping rehearsals and has hired her own writer. In turn, Tracy’s threatening to do the show as his alter-ego, Professor Cosmotosis as Jenna naps, with instructions only to be interrupted by a call from Andy Dick.

So Liz lays down the law. She’s been coddling Jenna all along. Her fan club is fake. Every caller to her radio show the week before was fake. Even her recent award is really a cookie. Jenna’s so insecure, Liz says, she’s even jealous of babies, with their soft skin and all the attention they get. Jenna’s so much worse than Tracy.

That’s all Jenna wanted to hear. Back to work.

Meanwhile, Frank shows up in the writers room wearing apparel from his weekend stand-up gig at Harvard. Toofer, who went to Harvard is quite irked. So he shows up as Frank, replete with MOM EXPERT hat. Before long, they’re trapped. Neither can back down. It’s a politial minefield and the New Yorker festival is coming next week.

Sure enough, James Carville’s got the answer (No, I don’t know why.) Change your story, like Rove did last election. Before they catch flak for backing down, everyone’s riffing on Josh’s weird hair and Carville’s lending his expertise in vending machine theft, Cajun-style.

In the end, C.C. is willing to hear Jack out. After all, she’s 43 and he has great hair. He takes her to the corporate dining room, where all his blue-suited heroes dine. It’s their opinion that counts the most important, or so Jack thought. Gentlemen, token ladies, he introduces her, his hippie-dippy mama wants to tax us all to death and make it legal for a man to marry his own dog. But he’s not going to hide her.

The declaration inspires similar truth-telling, possibly too much.

One guy gave to NPR. One lady sends her kids to public school. A gay man outs himself. So does a black man. (Wait, what?) Even C.C. chimes in that she voted for Reagan in ’84. It’s refreshing for almost all of them.

I think the wife-murderer’s in trouble.