For more than six years, I was a regular on your show, and from the start I felt we had a way more comfortable rapport than, let’s say, Spitzer and whatshername.
As we chewed over topics from Tom Cruise‘s love life to Sarah Palin‘s family values and beyond, I’d say impishly outrageous things and you’d simultaneously blush and egg me on.
You’d ask sardonic high-concept questions and I’d volley back with zany cracks and catty fantasias. And you never lost your poise or made me worry that our segments might flop, so I felt very safe in our world-mocking little bubble.
Whenever I got bumped because you decided to do a political rant instead, I was irked but stayed on your roster, knowing that your fiery tirades were burning up the screen, making O’Reilly’s ears hurt and helping pave the way for President Obama.
Besides, I knew I’d land on your show again and it would get me noticed (even by Carrie Prejean, who mentioned our mockfests in her big lawsuit. Woo hoo! She watched!)
Towards the end, you dealt less in celebrity gossip and pretty much dropped me, but it was fun to don green makeup for what turned out to be my final appearance, playing the Wicked Witch of the West Village in a naughty spoof of Christine O’Donnell.
It reminded me that you have a healthy sense of what’s absurd in our nation, a view I was always happy to share in, as the sound of rim shots echoed throughout 30-Rock.
Lately, I’ve been appearing on Lawrence O’Donnell‘s show (which is taking over your 8 PM time slot) and finding that he’s astoundingly smart and funny too.
I’m a lucky witch–and proud to have helped you make the culture go pop.
Thanks for never naming me Worst Person in the World.
(“To Sir, With Love” playing in the background)