And they are lame, lame, lame, and lame. I had heard about the all-nighters in the Main Reading Room with the bourbon punch; I had heard about the reference team downing kamikazes and singing karaoke. Where are those hard-living librarians of yesteryear? At home with their new livers and their iron lungs and their overdue books, is where. The peak of the 2002 holiday madness was today at the Hispanic division's festivities, when I got to ask a perfect stranger, "Is there eggnog on my nose?"