A little bit of New York's scary old soul died today, as gossip heavy Ian Spiegelman was reportedly fired from NY Post's Page Six. Spiegelman, perhaps not the most well-mannered man in the gossip biz, sent the email (reprinted below) to magazine writer Doug Dechert. Best of all: Daily News-boy Lloyd Grove takes the credit for getting Spiegelman fired by passing the email to the upstairs NY Post honchos. We can safely conclude that, in some outer borough, Spiegelman is dusting off a blood-encrusted baseball bat for Lloyd Grove's face.

From: "Ian Spiegelman" [XXX] To: [XXX] Cc: [XXX] [Richard Johnson] Subject: Abigail Date: Mon, 21 Jun 2004 21:23:05 -0400


You picked the wrong boy to fuck with, you pussy. I am not like anyone you've come up against and I don't consider there to be any rules in this. I break aging trust fund pussies like you as a matter of course. If you think you can bring it, then bring it, faggot. Because I know that in my world you're nothing but a two-bit lame. Do you know what a lame is, Doug? A lame is an also-ran, a lame is the excuse for the person he would have been if he wasn't so fucking weak, so completely pathetic.

You 're a lame and a pussy, Doug. And you should know better than to try and wage war on me. I'm better, stronger and smarter than you, you little Nancy. If I wanted to take your girl out, I would. You have nothing I can't take away from you, you non-man. Doug, you little tiny fairy, you arrested boy, I will break your back over my knee in the press and I will push your face inside-out in private or public. You've crossed a line that you are currently too insane to see that you've crossed. But I am giving you this one freeby:

Mention my name anywhere, ever, again, and we're going to find out two things: First, whose word means anything anymore in this town. Second, how many times I can slam my fist into your face before someone pulls me off you, Now I know you'll try and get a restraining order against me, you suit-happy little pussy. After all, you live in your mother's apartment. And that's fine, go ahead. I just want you to know who you picked a problem with, pussy. You picked a fight with someone who doesn't sleep until he's paid it back, you limp little woman. Now you wait for it,