Noice shout out to the Zuckster for letting his alma mater slip into his network’s highest-rated comedy for the past two seasons. Tonight’s episode of 30 Rock not only gave Keith Powell some well-deserved lines but also included a truly gratuitous Cambridge reference. But we don’t want to commend Tina Fey’s oeuvre for merely dropping the H-bomb. Instead, we want to revel in the fact that the writers got the usually collar-popping, sometimes random, and always hilarious loftiness of Ivy pompousness dead on. During the episode, Liz (Fey) mentions that the show is going to Boston, Toofer (Powell), wearing a red Veritas tie and a tennis sweater, pipes up about his academic roots in the ‘burbs, only to be pwned by Jenna (Jane Krakowski)… sort of.

Toofer: “You know, I went to school in Boston. Well, not in Boston, but nearby. No, not Tufts–”
Jenna: “Oh, shut up. It’s 14 degrees there.”
Toofer: “… Harvard.”

Yeah, it's really that cold here.

Conan just peaced, Toofs. The pressure’s all on you.

Miss you, Coco!

As the Vancouver Winter Olympics approach, I become distinctly aware of the fact that network television is conspiratorially trying to vault certain athletes onto a certain pedestal. I’m not referring to different earthly minerals here, but I’m thinking more along the lines of brainwashing the public to believe that certain dudes in sterilizing tights happen to be God’s gift to ice skating aficionados. After years of analyzing Bob “I Only Work Leap Years” Costa’s special reports on NBC about specific athletes, I think I’ve built a pretty comprehensive list of qualities that a gymnast, speed skater, and–Jesus help us all if this ever happens–curler must possess to make it big into the collective consciousness.

Have the name of a Greek god. This one’s pretty obvious. How many gold medalists do you know named Andy Stitzer? Partly the doing of NBC’s prescient obsession with him the year of the Salt Lake City Games, Apolo Ohno definitely benefited from his dad totally freeloading on a pompous and possibly super traumatic naming decision. It’s unsurprising that the Olympic Committee granted him the gold medal even though he finished one of his races second–the man can bend people at sheer will, especially with hair like that. And it doesn’t really matter that Ohno wasn’t named specifically after the god, because really, who can focus on that when your last name is an exclamation in itself? We can all only stop hating him for him winning the genetic lottery when we find out how many times he was beat up in grade school before he started working out for future retribution. (I hope it’s a lot.)

Be a super-dee-duper All-American do-gooder. Pie-eating nationalists will always be predictably easy to please–you give them a wholesome, hardworkin’ teenager from the midwest just hoping to bring some honor to the heartland and they’ll stop being pissed that “My Name is Earl” won’t be the regularly scheduled programming for two weeks. That’s why all of the blond, freckle-faced youngin’s from Texas get all the attention during these two weeks every single time. Shawn Johnson, Sasha Cohen, that one chick who was actually really crappy at diving and yet got more camera time than the non-American gold medalist–they all had one creepy thing in common, and that was America’s capitalization on their patriotic cuteness and absurdly happy-go-lucky cheeriness. With their scarily vehement “GO USA!” chants captured on film for eternity, they might as well have been wearing eagle-emblazoned letter jackets onto the podium. Can we please just lay it all out? Because basically, Paul and Morgan Hamm are just two short dudes in tights wearing some ugly-ass primary colors.

Double the trouble is too much to handle.

Read more qualifications (or maybe disqualifications) after the jump.

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