Americans have finally forgotten September 11th.

Or at least, middle America has. Why else would anyone think it’s ok for Illinois-based Walgreens to take over one of the greatest symbols of New York City pride and excess, Duane Reade?

From the northeast corner of 57th and Broadway to the southwest corner of 58th and Broadway, Duane Reade has been there for New Yorkers. And it has grown with them. They updated their logo, redesigned their stores, revamped their loyalty program and got into the publishing game with the celebrated Duane Reader. Is this really the time to let a bunch of teabagging cotton-ball huxters from the the midwest ride in on their Landrovers and ruin our way of life?

Duane Reade IS New York. Once gritty and filled with prostitutes, it’s now a glossy cathedral of insider deals and flu shots. The lights burn brighter, the gum tastes chewier, the feminine hygiene products are more scented. What can this charlatan, this wall-of-greens promise us other than calumny?

Say goodbye to no-fee Chase ATMs. Say goodbye to deLISH products that are, indeed, DElish. Say goodbye to free wire transfers to Haiti. In fact, say goodbye to Haiti itself, unless they’ve get an ersatz CVS that needs some taking over. Walgreens doesn’t care.

And most importantly of all, say goodbye to New York City. Your City, Your Drugstore has gone the way of Your 42nd Street Tranny. The next time you walk the city streets and smell the faint aroma of semen, look up, not down; I guarantee you’ll find a Walgreen’s executive satisfying himself in Christopher Columbus Circle’s tear-stained face.