'Twas the night before break, when in Paradigm
Not an Agent was stirring, not even Ol’ Stein ;
The Agents had gone to their homes and affairs,
And assistants were left, with their woes and their cares.
The mailroom was huddled in the south basement,
While the copiers hummed to Marshall’s contentment.
Sabrina and Whitney kept guard at the lobby,
While Chad from security worked on his hobby
When out on courtyard there was such a clatter,
The assistants took five to study the matter.
Away to the doors went the gals and the blokes,
Stepped into the courtyard, and lit up their smokes.
The music that came from the Platinum side,
Made us all think they have something to hide,
When, what to my wondering eyes should ascend,
But an Aston Martin, and several agents
With a little old driver, smiling with glee,
I knew in a moment it must be Sam G.
More rapid than eagles the Agents they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, BENSEN! now, COHEN! , ALADJEM and KLEIN!
On,PATMAN! On LAZO! MARGULES, and STEIN!
To the crescent hotel! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As a parade of people who work way too hard,
They slowly, but surely came into the yard,
So up to the courtyard the agents they flew,
With Sharon, and Margo and our bonuses too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the ground
The jingle of a barman pouring a round
As I stretched out my hand, and was turning around,
Into the courtyard Glassman came with a bound.
She was dressed â€Festiveâ€, from her head to her toe,
And she looked like a pimp who was missing his ho;
She welcomed us all to the holiday party
And introduced Sam who spoke then, quite hearty.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
I think he was poignant, I wasn’t quite sure
By this time the evening was becoming a blur;
I remember Doug Fronk and some weird kid, Chris Smith,
Who claimed he was an agent, yeah right, as if.
Ruf’s style of dancing had become just that,
And Balkin was donning some sort of hat;
Clossey and Barkett were commiserating,
And I think Nick and Sam are suddenly Dating;
Arthur and Judith drank shot after shot,
Injured Douglass and Hess, brought medicinal pot.
Cal was breaking boards with his head,
And JSI made a barstool his bed.
The Night as it goes got even weirder,
As I heard Blatt and Stein argue which one was Greener.
And the last thing I heard as I lost my sight was,
"HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!...
You Don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.
Seriously, we have Taxis for you, let’s go!
I Know you have work tomorrow, maybe you should leave.
So I was in Vegas this weekend and though that desrves a thorough posting, I wanted to comment on the sad state of magic. Sure there's Penn and Teller, and The Amazing Jonathan, who's acts are funny and interesting and exciting. But most of magic nowadays seems to be overrun by Lance Burtons and Ziggy and Roy. Bedazzled, fairies who wear so much makeup that it puts Kabuki actors to shame. With enormous gestures and the now inevitable white tiger and menagerie of endagered creatures, they prance about the stage, and rake in the Dough with the same eight tricks done in fifty variations, as the magicians of times gone by roll over in their graves.
![\"A\" is for Atlantic](http://photos3.flickr.com/3843300_924ce9be70_s.jpg "\\"A\\" is for Atlantic")
