Quit trying to kill me, easily tricked brain

Voles

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/13/science/13tier.html?ref=science
New studies are confirming what everyone not living inside a Meg Ryan movie already knew; love's nothing more than a bunch of random chemicals, hormonal urges, and fucked up head-games (exact scientific findings). But even more groundbreaking (a lot more groundbreaking), the vole-torturing scientists behind this announcement have also raised the possibility of manufacturing a "love potion." They've isolated the chemicals that cause "bonding" with members of the opposite sex, and are now waving them around threateningly at anyone who dares scoff at their jean-on-jean fashion offenses.

From the top: scientists, contemplating the nature of vole relationships the way normal people reflect wistfully on the old-school romance between Prince William and Pretty Girl Who is Way Too Classy to Ever Have a Sex Tape (is that her name?), realized that human relationships are totally similar to vole relationships: we are meant to be monogomous, usually, I guess, or so I've heard from Dr. Phil, and can't communicate with each other for shit. With their vole=human theory in hand, the scientists started injecting chemicals indiscriminately into rodents (for detailed analysis of why this is almost always a terrible idea, see: NIMH, Rats of) and thereby determined that something called "oxytocin" is the reason you act like such a fucking retard every time you get drunk. Basically, Prince Harry and Skanky Girl Who Will Sell the Distribution Rights to Her Sex Tape had it right all along.

The seriously fucked up part in all this (I will tell you so you don't have to guess, then worry that you guessed wrong), is the notion in some not-too-distant Brave New World peppered with flying cars that run on global warming and babies named Barack, people will be able to slip you a love roofie. All those skeezoid perverts you've been taught to watch your drinks around are going to have a field day with the drug that makes you want them while you're still awake. I mean, that sounds like a step up to me.

And there's no one to blame but our own suggestible, dumbass brains, who, if injected with "jump-off-a-bridge" chemicals, would totally jump off a bridge. If it's any consolation, I don't think even the most credulous of brains will be tricked by the NY Times' attempt to appear hip and relevant by referencing Britney Spears in this article. So close and then....Larry King follow-up. Next time, print journalism. You'll get it next time.