The reason he finds this so particularly funny is something of a complicated story. See, I have a thing about monkeys. They give me the whim-whams. (Jim, born in the year of the Metal Monkey is the only one I make an exception for.)
I think this comes from childhood trauma. I was the kind of kid who wanted to bring home every animal they saw, but my Mum had a horror of things with fur if they weren't dogs. My parents split up when I was about 3, but my grandmother, my father's mother, the oh so prim Adelaide B, owned a monkey. It was a horrible nasty thing, the kind you still occasionally saw organ grinders with - a spider monkey perhaps? It was smart and bored and evil, and one of my few memories of those grandparents is a vivid recollection that Jock's favorite pastime was defecating in various beds, and then replacing the covers.
Anyway... I find them disturbing.
Now, when my mum was ill back in the early eighties, we had gone back to Long Island to help her pack and she gave me a big unsorted box of photographs to go through and see what I wanted, and what we could even place anymore.
You have to have known my mum to appreciate what a riot this was. I was thoroughly enjoying it, and Jim, who had not been through a session like this before was alternately stunned and hysterical.
(A favorite moment: I pick up a square, decal-edged, black and white photo of a streetcorner, with people milling about. It looks like a parade.
me: "What's This?"
and my mother, deadpan, replies "Oh, that's Lindbergh coming home."
me: "Cool! Where is he?"
mum: "He's not there yet...")
Jim's favorite incident of the day was when I found an envelope full of black and white photos that I had taken with that little green "brownie" camera (remember that picture of me as a cowgirl at christmas? that one)
I open the envelope and there are a dozen little square black and whites of monkeys masturbating.
Apparently, when I was about 7, my class went on a field trip to the Massapequa Zoo, and I (who usually could not be dragged away from whatever felines they had - in fact, I had what can only be described as a crush on a particular ocelot for *years* - had taken my entire roll of film of the monkeys, on exactly that 1950"s small zoo style monkey island, amusing themselves on a summer afternoon.
"What's This!" I was almost falling over laughing.
My mum waved vaguely from behind her stack of photos. "Oh, you remember, you took them..."
"Yeah, I remember," I said "but you told me my pictures didn't come out.
"I could hardly give them to you, you would have shown them to everyone we know."
"I get that, by why did you keep them then? For 25 years the sex monkeys have been in the drawer with communions, wedding, and baby pics?"
"Well, you know... you can't throw pictures away. And besides, it's funnier now..."