Mark my words: Jane Goodall is a crazy person. I’ve not read her work, nor looked into her in even a cursory fashion, but you listen to me–that lady’s a loon.

Why must you have these idiot ramblings out loud?

She once went on a Jdate with Mickey and spent an hour picking nits, grubs, and lice from his pelt. Then she presented and, you know: Mickey thought it was fucked up, but he went with and made sweet monkey–


–love to that esteemed animalologist right there in the movie theater.

That didn’t happen.

But it feels like it did.

It does not.