...although, when did they ever go out of style? News that rabblerousing book critic Dale Peck was smacked by Stanley Crouch, who had been Peck'd earlier, outside of precious West Village eatery Tartine is just the latest in adults forgetting the playground adage, "Stick and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me." [Gawker reported the incident, as editor Choire Sicha shares a "shitty East Village rabbit warren with Dale Peck" with Peck.] New York magazine's Vanessa Grigoriadis revealed more of the wackiness behind the other big would-be smackdown of late - the Ian Spiegelman-Douglas Dechert dustup that cost Spiegelman his job. Gawker (everywhere, we tell you) had the full text of the email Spiegelman sent Dechert:
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.
Move over, Norman Mailer! Gothamist thinks that an underground literary-media-gossip underground Fight Club (for men and women) needs to be started to shake the tension out. And for that matter, why not start one for the blog world - it's all about the freaks (us) and the playa hating.
