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Because we know that your curiosity about the structures in which CAA's phalanx of Armani-clad stormtroopers plan their ongoing takeover of the industry knows no bounds, we direct your attention to today's piece in Slate about the disposition of the agency's recently abandoned, I.M. Pei-designed HQ now that all of its soul-acquiring operations have been shifted to the new Century City location, which ponders why the Evil Zen Temple That Michael Ovitz Built remains without a tenant:

Last May, the Los Angeles Times speculated that after CAA departed, the building would become "the most expensive Beverly Hills office space in memory." A tenant would ante up about $6 million a year—or a pricey $5 a square foot—for this influential address. But no one has stepped up.

The building is owned by Ovitz and erstwhile partners Ron Meyer (the head of Universal Studios), producer Bill Haber, and former CAA Chief Financial Officer Robert Goldman. CAA has rented the building from them since 1995 and—according to at least one source with firsthand knowledge of the situation—is still paying rent.

And the building—with its giant, custom-made Roy Lichtenstein painting still in the lobby—is standing vacant. More than a year ago, the owners hired the Cushman & Wakefield brokerage firm to lease the building. But then, nothing happened. "It's the weirdest thing," says veteran Beverly Hills real estate agent Gary Weiss. "All of us don't understand it."

Maybe it's not so weird after all. The building has a curving facade, and the space inside is idiosyncratic and difficult to reconfigure. With its soaring atrium, a tenant would be paying a lot for space that can't be put to use. When Ovitz was working on the plans, Weiss says, "I don't think they paid much attention to whether it was efficient or not."

Prohibitively high rental costs aside, it seems obvious that another entertainment industry concern would be wary of relocating to the Hollywood equivalent of a cursed Indian burial ground; any cachet gained by being bold enough to take over the iconic space would be instantly offset by the loss of employee morale resulting from spending day after day trying to block out the haunting cries of the countless babies devoured within the building's walls during CAA's tenancy, plaintive wails that its beautiful atrium was specifically designed to amplify to blood-chilling levels.