Archive for September, 2012


Thursday, September 20th, 2012





RE:  Come on – If You Don’t Know By Now…


Actually, I think I’ll call you “bike riders” because “bicyclists” makes you sound like you possess some special skill or talent.  I don’t believe “arrogance” or “contempt-for-the-rest-of-the-world” qualifies as either.   I am writing to you because my previous exhortations clearly didn’t penetrate your thick skulls and/or bicycle helmets.  They were, perhaps, too subtle, too tongue-in-cheek.  “Awwww – she’s paying attention to us.  She must really admire us.”  Um.  No.  Or maybe you confused the adage “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” with “insults are the sincerest form of flattery.”  Don’t flatter yourselves


So, I have to be blunt.  Hey, New York City bike riders, I hate you.


That’s right.  Hate.  Even if you give money on a regular basis to the Susan G. Komen Fight for the Cure Cancer Fund, even if you’ve saved several cats and dogs from kill-shelters, even if you not only deliver Meals-On-Wheels to our city’s elderly but actually cook the food yourself, I still hate you.


Wow, Mollie.  That’s harsh.  No, it isn’t.  Terrible people do good things.  In literature and in film, bad characters do nice things.  In life, bad people occasionally do nice things.  It doesn’t make them nice people. No one is one hundred percent good and no one is one hundred percent evil.  Vito Corleone loved cats and children and his family.


Raskolnikov, (look it up because you probably haven’t read a novel since “Goosebumps”), gave money away that he needed to help someone else who needed it even more.  The point is that evil people do nice things all the time.  Are you a NYC bike rider who recycles, delivers meals to, works in soup kitchens, gives stuff to Good Will?  Good for you.  You’re still evil.


Why, Mollie?  Why?  We don’t pollute the city with gas-guzzling autos.  We don’t take up the parking spots you covet.  We can’t fit obnoxious “My Daughter is on the Honor Roll at Riverdale Country School” bumper sticker on the back of our bikes.  Please.  Allow me to spell it out.  Here, among countless other reasons, is why I absolutely detest each and every one of you.



You are like Charlie Rose  — pompous for absolutely no reason.  You actually think you are better than everyone when the only thing you are particularly skilled at is annoying everyone else.

Charlie Rose Picture



You still love Lance Armstrong.  You’re on his side.  The doping allegations are crazy.  And even if they’re true, it’s something your moral compass is willing to overlook.  Like the red lights you run, the automobile drivers you taunt, the pedestrians you maim.



A bicycle is a mode of transportation.  Yet you have managed to turn it into a lifestyle.  Special clothes.  Special drinks.  Special shoes.  Special reading materials.

You’re a religion.  So is Scientology and you aren’t any less brainwashed than they are but if I had to pick who would say, “I’m sorry,” after running over my metatarsal bones, my money’s on the Thetans.



You think you are in Amsterdam.  I wish you were, because the possibility of your riding your Spandex-wearing ass into a herring kiosk or canal is exponentially greater.

People riding bikes in Amsterdam



You are everything people hate about sororities and fraternities.

Sorority Flag

You think you’re this exclusive club that everyone wants to belong to when in fact we outsiders fall into one of three categories: the people who laugh at you, the people who are sure you’ve got short man or little penis syndrome, and the people who want to filet you like a Chilean sea bass.



You are the poster children for “RUDE.”  No.  Wait.  Aren’t you the poster children for “ENTITLED”?  No. Wait.  I’m confused.  Can you be both?  I think you can. After all, you’re very special.  Just ask your parents.


You are most likely to name your children “Atticus” and “Clementine.”


You ride your bike to save money but somehow you manage to scrape together enough pennies for Tuna  Steak Seared in Wild Forest Black Truffle Oil from Whole Foods.



Why don’t you follow a movement created by your generation and OCCUPY BIKE LANES?


You are a study in contradiction, like the comedy/tragedy mask.  You are the wimpy/bully mask.  First, you taunt and tease the Audi behind you by reaming your Shimano Dura-Ace tire into his bumper. Then you gather any available pedestrians, winos, crackheads and professional protesters to feel bad for and defend you on your itty-bitty bike.  Waahhh, waahhhh – your handlebar’s bent.



I will leave out the bike messengers and delivery guys, but the rest of you – you are all delusional.  You behave as though you’re doing something noble and important.  You’re pedaling.