survival of the...schmoopies?

I just read a somewhat facinating, somewhat disturbing article about voles. No, I do not have a typing impediment--voles are a cross between a mole, a prairie dog, a squirrel, and that hampster you killed in eighth grade. Anyway, there are two types of voles--a prairie vole, and a meadow vole. Male prairie voles are your typical randy tykes, screwing anything that looks remotely fuck-able and breakin' hearts all over America's heartland. Male meadow voles are what we girls dream about but never date--they huddle, they cuddle, and never, ever leave their beloved's hole. (In the ground! They LIVE in holes! Oh, you dirty, dirty reader.) So scientists, who can never just leave nature well enough alone, decide to see what happens if they take some gene stuff from the schmoopie-moopie voles and inject it into the brains of the Colin Farrell voles. (Yes, I have a ridiculous crush on him, what's your point?) Lo and behold, the former lotharios have become the best boyfriends in the world, cuddling n' schmooping like no one's business. So, scientists wonder, can we humans do the same thing? Can we round up the members of metal bands everywhere and inject their brains with the monogamous gene? Oh God, I sincerely hope not. Because what the article failed to mention is what the girl voles thought of all this gene-switching business. My theory is that the girl voles got so bored and annoyed that there were no more bad boy voles to distract and excite them that they started girl vole gangs, beating up senior citizens and robbing convenience stores just for some friggin' amusement.