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Opinion: I Was Part of the Government’s Top Secret Rodent Man Experiments and I Don’t Appreciate Being Sexualized

Like millions of Americans, you have probably been enthralled with the recent wave of fairly weird-looking celebrities being labeled as ‘Hot Rodent Men.’ Look, I get it. Guys like Timothée Chalamet are certainly attractive to some, and definitely have vermin-esque features. Beneath those beady eyes and angular chins lies a harrowing darkness, however. Before you make another TikTok about how Mike Faist is ‘low key ugly’ but also ‘vibes,’ you should know the ick-inducing truth.

In the summer of 2005, several of these ‘hot rodent men’ and I were part of a top secret government program known as ‘Operation HRM12.’ The initial goal of this experiment was to create a hyper-intelligent species of rat that could infiltrate the powerful Mole Man society that resides beneath the New York City subway system. We were told the project was imperative to national security. We were almost successful even. Until… the incident occurred.

As our cerebral matter was infused with the ever-growing vermin army, several hundred lab rats started speaking incoherent gibberish before promptly exploding; killing the government’s dreams of conquering the nefarious Mole Man King. Devastated by their loss, the scientists turned their ire toward the humans. We were subjected to numerous tests, ranging from all cheddar diets to experimental neck-building exercises to help us withstand the Mole Men’s various man-sized mouse traps.

To help normalize the horrifying changes to our facial features, those who could take no more were forced to sign NDAs and pursue careers in the entertainment industry. The unlucky few who stayed progressed further into rat-human monstrosities reminiscent of Splinter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Had I not escaped into the sewers, I might be residing in the island colony to which they were exiled.

You’ll have to forgive me for not jumping for joy over this impending ‘Rat Boy Summer.’ While you gawk over Jeremy Allen White, I remember his blood-curdling pleas of lactose-intolerance during the cheddar trials. As you daydream about stuffing Kieran Culkin in your shirt pocket, I revisit memories of him sobbing as he is forced to watch an unreleased episode of “Tom and Jerry” in which the former is brutally clawed to death by the latter on a twelve-hour loop.

I don’t care what gets you off. Now that you know the truth, however, I just want you to think of the human being with .009% rat DNA before objectifying them.