Much as I love Tina Fey, I think it’s all right to acknowledge that 30 Rock has been of variable quality so far this season. Nothing’s gone wrong in particular, it just hasn’t been as consistently, overwhelmingly hilarious as it’s been in the past. Which is why last night’s hysterical episode was a welcome return to form.

There were a lot of things going for 30 Rock’s “The Audition.” Tracy and Jenna went looking for comedic stereotypes and discovered a “bi-larious” man and a large black woman who ate food while dancing, Dot Com recounted his experiences with Chekov’s The Seagull, and Liz recalled her own early audition traumas (“My carpets need a deep clean…”). It was well-written, there were some good Brian Williams cameos (which, for me, will automatically make anything at least 50% better), and Tina Fey did a Christopher Walken imitation. A good time all around.

Aside from Brian Williams, my favorite audition was definitely Lutz and Twofer's "Laugh of the Mohicans"

Or, it would have been, were it not for…the bedbugs (DUN DUN DUNNNN). Jack Donaghy struggles with a bedbug infestation, or as they are variously called throughout the episode, chew daddies, Ozark kisses, the woodsman’s companion, Blue Ridge quilt ticklers, and Mugabe’s concubine. His business partners refuse to be in the same room with him, a cabbie won’t even pick him up, he has to take the service elevator in Rockefeller Plaza, and finally, he ends up on the subway doing a pitch-perfect imitation of a homeless person explaining why he just needs a little help. Sure, it was funny, particularly the subway bit. But do not let the humor convince you that bedbugs are a comical, entertaining little plotline. They are evil. They are unstoppable. They are horrifying. I just worry that because the episode was so funny, bedbugs may not be taken as seriously as they should be. BE WARNED.

Jack Donaghy, ostracized from society. I know it seems like it's funny, but it's actually horrific.

P.S. I’ve never actually had bedbugs, so I suppose it’s possible that they’re not quite so terrible. But they live in my nightmares, a phobia I am no longer capable of coping with in a rational manner. It’s possible I’m biased by my powerful, pervasive fear. BUT I DOUBT IT.

Last night saw the return of 30 Rock, completing NBC’s comedy Thursday lineup and restoring one of the sole gleaming, award-winning bright spots to the entire NBC primetime schedule. In typical 30 Rock form, much of the focus was on topical issues, ranging from the main plot with Kenneth striking to get overtime for the page program, to Tracy roaming the streets in his attempt to reconnect with the common man. (And of course, to Cheesy Blasters. Thanks, Meat Cat!) The recession is still in the air at Rockefeller Plaza, and Jack Donaghy hoarding his annual bonus has a wryly familiar sense of greed, especially in New York City. At the same time, Jenna’s Tennis Night song managed to be silly and forehead-slappingly pointed.

This page ain't turnin'!

The show’s persistent topicality, and its associated meta layer of reference and inference, is one of the main ways 30 Rock distinguishes itself from the standard sitcom. Unlike The Office, which plays with the conventions and form of the old sitcom, 30 Rock assumes the shell premise of a half-hour workplace comedy and just blasts the whole thing to shreds. Sure, it’s a show about the relatable everywoman and her incompetent co-workers, but because 30 Rock constantly refers back to a real building and a real television network, at times it feels much closer to a news satire show like The Daily Show than it does The Office (or, even farther away down the sitcom spectrum, something like Two and a Half Men).

You've got Cheesy Blasters!

For me, the other main distinguishing factor is the language. The hour-long comedies that have sprung up recently on cable networks are better known for a distinctive linguistic character, but half-hour network comedies are more synonymous with the blandest, slowest, most canned-laughter-ridden dialogue around. 30 Rock, for all its inconsistency and sheer ridiculousness, has an instantly recognizable verbal flair, full of fast dialogue and understated laugh lines punctuated by the wit and wisdom of Liz Lemon. (Aside from the brilliance of Cheesy Blasters this episode, we also got her efforts to lie with Pete: “I’m picking up my new…tritionist…and his elderly…son.”) It may rely frequently on stupid, silly, or crude humor, but 30 Rock expects you to be able to catch your scatological Star Wars joke on the fly. And I totally respect that.

Slate.com published an article yesterday reviewing two books about the changing landscape of television advertising, describing the splintering television audience and the problem it poses for advertising and television production. With the classically alarmist Slate title “Is Television Over?,” the author Seth Stevenson points out that without the revenue from advertisements, studios cannot afford to produce high quality shows with large talented casts, good production values, and a decent script. The splintering cable networks mean a smaller concentration of eyeballs on any one show, which means less ad revenue, which means less incoming money, which means more shows like Dating in the Dark and fewer shows like Kings.

What Stevenson’s article doesn’t mention is the new frontier of television advertising, in-program product placement. By any number of accounts, the relationship between NBC’s Chuck and the in-show advertising from Subway helped save Chuck from cancellation this spring. 30 Rock endlessly mocks the need to creatively incorporate sponsorship, but of course the mockery is always also just a funny way to creatively incorporate sponsorship. (Just how many McFlurries did Alec Baldwin and Salma Hayek have to eat last season?)

Alec Baldwin and Salma Hayek enjoying delicious McFlurries on 30 Rock

I’ve written about this before in relation to Eureka and Degree for Men Deodorant, and this newer system of advertising is so pervasive that it’s hard to think about monetizing television without considering the ubiquity of product placement. In Eureka‘s most recent episode, Deputy Lupo shows off her new car to Sheriff Carter, and Fargo’s car drives up to congratulate her:

Deputy Lupo with her new car; Fargo's car Tabitha, who has a little Knight Rider thing going on

Deputy Lupo: 265 horsepower, track-tuned suspension and all-wheel drive. Totally high performance but completely under my control.

Fargo: Hot wheels, Jo.

Deputy Lupo: Thanks, 6 weeks on the wait list!

Fargo: Small price to pay for awesomeness!

Fargo’s car: Congratulations on your new vehicle, Deputy Lupo. The Subaru Impresa WRX is an excellent choice.

Of course that kind of absurd product placement causes eye rolling, and it does create a distinction between the kind of show that can easily point to a Subway sandwich (like Chuck) and a show that could never plausibly incorporate a Subaru (like Deadwood). I love Deadwood, and hope there are always people trying to make shows of that calibre, but for shows that aren’t on premium subscription networks like HBO, there are ways to think outside the 30 second ad format. It’s not a solution for everything. But am I resigned to roll my eyes as Big Mike takes a bite out of Chicken Teriyaki sub if it means I get another season of Chuck? Sure. Is television over? No, it’s just occasionally more stupid.