To the death of clever, I present to you, NBC.

Slow clap for that stupid peacock.

I'm sour because that network is crushing my Lemon.

My Liz Lemon.

Tina Fey's "30 Rock" genius will only play a truncated 13 episodes, and then the network will buzzkill and boot it (pending ratings).

From the 52nd floor of 30 Rockefeller Plaza to wherever the hell Kenneth Parcell lies in wait, that show has squeezed out the most stimulating and sharp wit since "Seinfeld" aired.

"30 Rock" took Alec Baldwin's career from a sourpuss daughter-heckling poppa to pure brilliance. (He's the male actor with the most SAG Awards ever. Yeah!)

So aside from my fantasy of being Jack Donaghy's big spoon, I would also like to take Tina Fey's writing crew and stroke its collective thigh. I want it to dip its big fat feathered pen into my ink.

This is getting awkward.

Anyway, after said announcement, NBC Entertainment chairman Robert Greenblatt said that Tina Fey will remain involved with the network in the future.

If he knew what was good for him, he would pull his head out of that peafowl's rainbow ass.

TV shows also on their way out:

"Are You There, Chelsea?" Of course. It's Laura Prepon. Watching her "act" is like casting Ray Romano as my head's voice. Egads. Prepon was awarded the worst actress crown as soon as Paul Walker's mom taught him how to take his tampon out.

"Pan Am." Christina Ricci, get back to Tim Burton's kiddie table.


As Helena Bonham Carter dines with stitched clay freaks, you and Frankenweenie can throw Rocky Mountain Oysters at Johnny Depp, who's passed out in the master suite. You are an unconventional minx, dear. You don't belong with those sluts in the skies.

Other cancellations: "Awake" (Wilmer Valderrama's blind stab at fame? Denied, Fez.); "Bent" (Amanda Peet, what a piece of processed cheese food); "GCB" (Good Christian Bitches? Right); "Harry's Law," (David E. Kelley is stuffing us into a legal burrito and smothering us with all-too-mild dramedy). There are other cancellations. Those I don't care about.

Aw, "Gossip Girl" was renewed for its final season. OMFGG. xoxo.

'Swamp' guy dies

You mean like a humanoid mass of vegetable matter?

Oh. That's "Swamp Thing."

I've never watched "Swamp People," but Facebook tells me you're a fan.

(Facebook. He's so grating sometimes. He pushes your shit all in my mug's book. Sure, it's super that your dad checked in at the bathhouse. I just checked into Plow Those Pubes with your mom. We were in desperate need of a good wax.)

Anyhow, I hear that them Cajuns talk all sorts of peculiar and that this show is a good time. I trust you.

Monday, cast member Mitchell Guist died at 49.

I wish I'd known him longer. This is (also) a little awkward.

He fell while aboard his boat on the Intracoastal Waterway. It was rumored that cardiac arrest may be a factor. Poor dude.

However, my alligator comrades told me quite the opposite. Dem gatas were huuungry. I thought they were just whistling Dixie, but Dixie is a whore, so I wouldn't put it past them.


Go Gators. Ahem.