From the pages of today's THR, the compassionate folks at MediCann reach out to those most desperately in need of their medical marijuana-related services: industry assistants, whose stressful, abuse-marred lives could be marginally enhanced by some legal hash pills, a quick nibble of a special brownie, or a more traditional puff of a smoke-break joint. Like "Abby," any anxiety-plagued call-roller who accepts the firm's assistance will soon find him or herself free of the debilitating panic attacks often associated with indentured Hollywood servitude, numbing themselves to both the physical and psychological pain caused by those Blackberry-shaped "anythings" their bosses throw at them.

The free bagels enjoyed each Wednesday by Innovative Artists' overworked, undercompensated, and recently uninsured assistants will be slathered with the delicious schmear of victory this morning, as Variety is reporting that agency president Scott Harris has recanted his belief that benefits were being wasted on his young, hearty workforce and reinstated their health coverage through COBRA. A staffer tells Var:

After being informed on Friday that their health insurance benefits had been yanked retroactive to June 1st, disgruntled assistants over at the Innovative Artists agency are deciding whether to stage a sick-out or to burn down the place in protest, driving their insured oppressors into the street and letting every important call go unrolled. Var spoke to one of the affected staffers, who planned to discuss their strategy over lunch today:

It's difficult to imagine how anyone who experienced even a modicum of affection or encouragement in their youth could possibly want to become a Hollywood assistant, a vocation that marries the least gratifying job requirements of a telemarketer and animal control officer. Alas, the temptation to become a dry-cleaning-fetching cog in the machine proves irresistible to many, and some are willing to go so far as to pay for the opportunity: Canadian businessman Iaroslav Jivov alleges he paid Peter Bogdanovich $100,000 to hire his son as his assistant. He's now suing the director for accepting the money without living up to his end of the bargain, having not so much as thrown a single improperly prepared Starbucks latte into his son's face:

While Defamer is committed to connecting its readers with opportunities to obtain gainful, career-jumpstarting employment in the entertainment industry, recent items we've passed along might have given job hunters the tragically mistaken impression that assistant gigs are glamorous affairs entailing little more than helping one's famous boss chase tail on the set of a big-budget movie production. Luckily, this Craigslist post seeking some help for a busy TV producer reminds us at length (the poster seems terrified of receiving time-wasting resumes from those constitutionally unsuited for the position) that the fast-paced personal-assisting field is a demanding one that chews up the lazy, dumb, and weak. Excerpts from the ad, including a detailed FAQ letting one know what is expected of pretty much any assistant in this town (minus explicit mentions of occasional beatings), follow:

Good news for aspiring roman a clef authors: Star EIC Joe Dolce needs an assistant. According to the Monster.com listing:

• Brangelina's stolen baby shower photos are such a national treasure, the freaking FBI will raid your home to get them back. Tax dollars at work, people. [TMZ]
• Mo Rocca is on Star's side: by blindsiding Barbara Walters and quitting ahead of schedule, she spared us all the two-hour farewell episode from hell. [Fanatical Apathy]
• The Devil's assistant wears Prada, too. And she's shitty at keeping your rolodex up-to-date. [NYP]
• Meet Sarah Stillman, the Nation's Student Writing Contest winner. She will only win $1000, however, because that's what she gets for leaning left. [The Nation]
• The sky over Gristedes bawls "like a fucking constipated baby." Shouldn't this sort of hate be reserved for Duane Reade? [The Call Me Concha]
• There's already a Generation Z, and they're fashion bloggers. [WWD]
• Jane EIC Brandon Holley feeds readers pizza, but not so much that they won't fit into pretty new clothes. [Jossip]
• Natalie Portman and Eddie Izzard are, oddly enough, neck-and-neck for the lead in Cabaret. Such a toss-up, right? [Suicide Girls]

Having a famous parent is the gift that keeps on giving; if you're not a heroin addict or a pseudo-struggling artiste, you're most likely using parental pull to score the best of the entry-level gigs (like Cate Edwards and one of the Katzenbergs, who shuffled the cushy papers at Vanity Fair). Because we all must stay abreast of which celebrity spawn are answering whose phones, do keep in mind that should you have the balls to call Elle fashion director and Project Runway judge Nina Garcia, you'll be greeted by her assistant, Jade Frampton, daughter of guitarist Peter Frampton. And good for Jade! She really must've scored the position all by her lonesome, 'cause Daddy's hair wasn't doing her any favors.

If you've not had it marked on your calendar, from 2 - 4 PM today, flogged and browbeaten assistants everywhere can enjoy a free cup of coffee on behalf of the marketing team behind The Devil Wears Prada. At the very least, think of it as an excuse to take an extra smoke break. According to the release, the promotion is open to anyone who works in an "office," so we take that to mean that pretty much anyone, cubicle slave or not, can grab a freebie at participating locations. Just don't tell your boss — the bitch'll probably make you grab her a cup, too.

The latest edition of Hollywood Momentum, the trade paper of the people who circle the important trade paper stories for their bosses, features a fine return to form for its Screamers section, where aggrieved assistants anonymously chronicle their tales of abuse. (And too frequently, the triumphant moment where they give their insensitive overlords the what-for, thereby earning their grudging respect. The Hollywood underclass thrives on tears, not hugging and learning!) Let the sympathetic, primal yawps of the exploited begin:

The latest issue of Hollywood Momentum, the Self magazine of those intimately familiar with their bosses' dry-cleaning services, has landed on our e-doorstep. Imagine our delight when we discovered this nugget in this week's "Spotlight On" feature: