15 Hilariously Terrible Reviews of Wonderful Museums


It’s impossible to please everyone. Even the finest institutions struggle to make every guest happy—just look at the reviews complaining of long lines, large crowds, and curt security guards on sites like Yelp and TripAdvisor. But the toughest customers to leave reviews seem to have missed the point of the places they've visited entirely.

1. “i hate art, i hate tour guides, and i hate them for takin down the rocky statue.”

Dali. Degas. Manet. Monet. All of these artists are present at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. But the best piece of art at the museum, according to this Yelp reviewer, was the Rocky statue, which was moved from the top of the museum steps to the bottom in 2006. (Sic from here on out.) “i hate them for takin down the rocky statue,” she wrote. “I would reccommend the place if u like sober tour guides and borin naked art sculptures... trust me that all there is…”

2. “I expected sights from Night at the Museum.”

The American Museum of Natural History in New York City isn’t just an attraction—it’s also a scientific institution doing important research. Though the vast majority of its 33 million specimens aren't on display, visitors can still see dinosaur bones, rare gems, large meteors, and animals (that are indeed very real!) preserved just as they were in life, in dioramas that mimic the habitats where they lived.

But despite all that excellent and awe-inspiring stuff, this Yelp reviewer still came away disappointed. “I expected sights from Night at the Museum, but realized only the outside is the same,” she wrote in her one-star review, concluding that the museum was “not worth the money or time,” a statement many visitors to AMNH probably disagree with.

3. “It's 2015 GET SPLASH GUARDS!!!!!”

People go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City to see works by the likes of August Renoir and Mary Cassat, view actual Ancient Egyptian temples, and check out medieval armor—not to hang out in the bathroom. Still, the terrible men's room experience was what one Yelp reviewer took away from his time at the Met:

First of all most people don't even know that you can get in paying a penny and second off all.. No splash guards in the bathroom?? I rather pay full 25 dollars and get splash guards..Like really in a museum so big and so fancy you couldn't opt out for splash guards??

If the rest of his review is any indication, he wasn’t a fan of any exhibits at the museum, either. “Get the splash guards maybe go up to a 2 star review,” he wrote.

4. “The stuff here can probably be seen anywhere. Like any Ripley's Believe It Or Not worth its salt.”

Jimmy Emerson, DVM, Flickr // CC-BY-NC-ND 2.0

The original collection that makes up Philadelphia’s Mutter Museum of Medical Oddities was donated by Thomas Dent Mutter, a surgeon who pioneered plastic surgery for burn victims, to the Philadelphia College of Physicians in 1858. In addition to a number of wax figures (many collected by Mutter himself), the museum includes the conjoined livers of Chang and Eng Bunker, pieces of Einstein’s brain, and the tallest skeleton on exhibit in North America. It was all very dull to this “super, super easy to please” Yelp reviewer, who wrote that “The stuff here can probably be seen anywhere. Like any Ripley's Believe It Or Not worth its salt.” (Probably not, actually.)

A reviewer on TripAdvisor was similarly underwhelmed, complaining that “This museum is basically two floors of skulls, more skulls, and fetuses in jars ... To appreciate the things this place offers, you need to have an interest in the medical field … I thought I was going to see cool things—like a fork stuck in an esophagus and things like that.” Yes, a woman whose body became encased in soap in its grave totally pales in comparison to a fork stuck in an esophagus.

5. “There is nothing particularly unique or fascinating and the rooms ... are largely unimpressive.”

There’s a lot you could say about Chateau Versailles, the palace away from palace of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. That its many opulent rooms are unimpressive probably isn’t one of them, but this TripAdvisor reviewer would beg to differ: “The building is impressive but inside less so,” the hall of mirrors being the one exception. Would I recommend this attraction. If you have never visited a royal residence with extensive grounds or are particularly interested in French royal history then yes. But if you have been to other sites such as those in Bavaria or Britain, then Versailles has nothing to add.”

6. “I feel like if I'm gonna pay $6 to subject myself to an extended Dr Pepper commercial, I should at least get a free Dr Pepper.”

Jimmy Emerson, DVM, Flickr // CC-BY-NC-ND 2.0

It’s a bit of a stretch to call the Waco, Texas-based museum devoted to the history of Dr Pepper “an extended Dr Pepper commercial,” but this Yelp reviewer has a point about the free soda:

Just one can, that's all I'm asking.  Hell, when you get a free tour of the big breweries (Miller, Budweiser, etc.) you get several free beers (not to mention that those tours are also really interesting, which the Dr Pepper Museum is NOT).  I realize the Dr Pepper Museum isn't the same as a factory tour, and I wasn't really expecting it to be, but for $6 I expect more than a couple rooms full of old ads and bottles, you know?  To be precise, I expect a couple rooms full of old ads and bottles AND a free Dr Pepper.

7. “Would be great for a travelling roadshow exhibit.”

Reading just a few Yelp and TripAdvisor reviews about museums will yield plenty of “it’s no Smithsonian” comments—but not even the Smithsonian is immune to lackluster reviews. Take, for example, this two-star review of the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery. “Not much going on here,” the author wrote. “Could be much better utilized. It's cool inside, though! It would be great for a travelling roadshow exhibit.”

8. “FREE but not all that.”

Alex Priomos, Flickr // CC BY-NC 2.0

Meanwhile, this Yelp reviewer gave the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History three stars, writing it “was just ok. FREE but not all that,” before commenting on specific exhibits:

O. Orkin Insect Zoo - Not open, said a friend that works there. Bogus.

African Elephant - huge and just a big photo thing.

Dinosaur Hall - just ok

Hope Diamond - just ok.


9. “Barely an equine portrait in sight.”

Visitors to London’s National Gallery can check out paintings from all the greats, including Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Caravaggio, Vermeer, and Cezanne, among many others. But this TripAdvisor reviewer and horse enthusiast still wasn’t satisfied. “Piff ! (Full of pictures of dead people),” the author wrote. “Oh how my heart sank upon entry, barely an equine portrait in sight, not even red rum and aldaniti escaped me completely.”

10. “needs real monkeys and less airplanes.”

Tim Evanson, Flickr // CC BY-SA 2.0

Animals went to the final frontier long before man did, which might be why this TripAdvisor reviewer expected to see monkeys at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC, and went there instead of visiting a zoo. “I went to this expecting monkeys and I came short-handed,” he wrote. “There were only like one fake monkey. Unbelievable.”

11. “Unless you are a fan of Van Gogh give this a miss.”

Zutaten, Flickr // CC BY-NC-ND-2.0

Visitors to Amsterdam's Van Gogh Museum—which houses the largest collection of the painter's works—can see classics like Sunflowers and The Bedroom and explore exhibits where modern artists respond to the painter. But after waiting in line for half an hour to get into the museum, this TripAdvisor reviewer was unimpressed. “Unless you are a fan of Van Gogh give this a miss,” the author wrote. “Van Gogh is ok if you like art that could have been done by a child.” It’s not entirely clear why someone who isn’t a Van Gogh fan would go to a Van Gogh museum, and it’s pretty hard to imagine a kid painting The Potato Eaters, but hey, you can’t win 'em all.

12. “If you don't have kids, and don't particularly enjoy being jostled by hundreds of babies, toddlers, and kindergartners ... stay far away!”

Massachusetts Office of Travel & Tourism, Flickr // CC BY ND-2.0

Certainly, an overabundance of children has featured in many a Yelp or TripAdvisor complaint. But it’s a little odd to complain when the place being overrun with kids is … the Boston Children’s Museum. That didn’t stop this Yelp reviewer from bringing it up, though. “The place is teeming with cranky parents and whiny children and there seems to be no limit to the amount of people the museum will admit,” the author wrote. “Okay, I guess the exhibits are good, but I could not wait to get the hell out of that nightmare! Never again.”

13. “One of the worst collections of ‘art’ I have ever seen—could have done better myself.”

LWYang, Flickr // CC BY 2.0

Paris’s Musee de l’Orangerie is home to some of Monet’s water lilies paintings (he painted as many as 250 canvases), which are beloved by most—but not this TripAdvisor reviewer, who found the paintings at l’Orangerie so unimpressive that she figured she could do a better job. “Not sure why the French rave about Monet's lilies (or most of the other paintings) and really didn't get why people were queueing to get in,” she wrote. “Would rather stick pins in my eyes than visit again.”

14. “A collection of crap ripped off by this rich woman as she scoured the world.”

jess_melanson, Flickr // CC BY 2.0

According to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum website, its namesake patron—who established the museum with a $1 million endowment upon her death in 1924—was a friend and supporter of artists, a fan of sports, and “the visionary creator of what remains one of the most remarkable and intimate collections of art in the world today.” But this Yelp reviewer doesn’t think so highly of Gardner’s collection or the Boston-based museum named for her (which was also the site of one of the greatest unsolved art heists of all time). “OMG. What is everyone so excited about?” he wrote, continuing,

I found the museum to be dark, hot, congested, oppressive, more like the inside of a tacky second hand store than a serious museum. Particularly on the first floor every available slice of wall space was covered, in no understandable order, with a collection of crap ripped off by this rich woman as she scoured the world.  

15. “A very sad little place.”

California Academy of Sciences, Flickr // CC BY-NC-ND-2.0

The California Academy of Sciences, located in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, has a four-story rainforest, an aquarium and planetarium, a gorgeous green roof, and an albino alligator named Claude—something to delight and amaze nearly everyone. Unless you’re this TripAdvisor reviewer, who called the museum (sic throughout) “a trap for tourists visiting to san francisco. The planitorium was just ok. The rainforstwas a joke. And the earthquake simulation was not good enough.” Only the aquarium was cool enough for this reviewer, who noted that paying $35 just for that was a waste of money. And it wasn't even that cool anyway! “Montrey has a much much better acquirium, the author wrote. San francisco has so much to offer, i would easliy skip this place and the rest of SF.”

All images courtesy of iStock unless otherwise noted.

Columbia Pictures
15 Things You May Not Know About Close Encounters of the Third Kind
Columbia Pictures
Columbia Pictures

We are not alone. Here are a few facts about Steven Spielberg’s 1977 UFO classic, on its 40th anniversary.


Spielberg’s initial story outline involved UFOs and shady government dealings following the Watergate scandal, which became a script entitled “Watch the Skies.” The idea involved a police or military officer working on Project Blue Book, the Air Force’s official study into UFOs in the 1950s and 1960s, who would become the whistleblower on the government cover-up of aliens. There were numerous rewrites—Taxi Driver scribe Paul Schrader even took a crack at it, penning a political UFO thriller titled “Kingdom Come” that Spielberg and the movie studio rejected—before the story we know today emerged.


Columbia Pictures

Spielberg partly based his idea on the research of Dr. J. Allen Hynek, a civilian scientific advisor to Project Blue Book who eventually admitted that 11 percent of the study’s findings about unidentified flying objects could not be explained using science.

The title (which is never specifically explained in the movie) is actually derived from Hynek’s own alien close encounter classification system: A close encounter of the first kind is sighting of a UFO; the second kind is physical evidence to prove the existence of an alien; and the third kind is actual contact with alien life forms.


Hynek, who also served as a technical advisor on the movie, makes an uncredited cameo in the final scene of the movie. You can spot him pretty easily—he’s the goateed man smoking a pipe and wearing a powder blue suit who pushes through the crowd of scientists to get a better look at the aliens.


Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)
Columbia Pictures

The director first offered the part of Roy Neary to actor Steve McQueen, who turned it down because he said he couldn’t cry on cue, something he saw as essential to the character. Spielberg then went to Dustin Hoffman, Al Pacino, Jack Nicholson, Gene Hackman, and James Caan who all turned him down as well before asking his friend Richard Dreyfuss, who previously worked with Spielberg on Jaws, to take the part.


Spielberg approached French actors like Lino Ventura, Yves Montand, and Jean-Louis Trintignant to play Claude Lacombe—who was based on famous UFO researcher Jacques Vallée—before settling on director and sometimes-actor François Truffaut. The initially skeptical Truffaut, who was nervous about appearing in a big budget Hollywood movie, accepted the role because he wanted to compile research for a book about acting (he never did write the book).


Many actresses—including a then-unknown Yale Drama School grad named Meryl Streep—auditioned for the part of Roy’s wife Ronnie, but he ultimately cast actress Teri Garr because he saw her in a coffee commercial and loved the way she was able to convey a wide range of emotions in a 30-second clip.


Columbia Pictures

Spielberg wanted to shoot in real suburban locations rather than studio backlots, but the production had trouble finding locations. The biggest question: Where could Spielberg shoot the climactic canyon sequence with the mothership?

The production looked for huge indoor enclosures that would allow for the massive scale of the scene, though they only found ones with center support dividers that spoiled the openness Spielberg wanted for the UFO runway. The only location producers found without center dividers was a 300 foot by 300 foot disused hangar that had been used for dirigibles during World War II at Brookley Air Force base in Mobile, Alabama.


The Nearys' house, which is located at 1613 Carlisle Drive East in Mobile, was actually purchased by the production for $35,000 so they could do whatever they wanted with the interiors. It was later sold for $50,000 after production wrapped, netting a $15,000 surplus that went back into the film’s budget.


Composer John Williams worked with Spielberg to come up with the movie’s distinct five-note musical method of communication between humans and aliens—which Spielberg partly based on the Solfège system of musical education—a year before shooting began.

Williams initially wanted a seven-note sequence, but it was too long for the simple musical “greeting” Spielberg wanted. The composer enlisted a mathematician to calculate the number of five-note combinations they could potentially make from a 12-note scale. When that number proved to be somewhere upwards of 134,000 combinations, Williams created 100 distinct versions, and they simply whittled the combinations down one by one until they had a winner.


Columbia Pictures

Cary Guffey, who plays little Barry Guiler, had never acted before, so Spielberg set up ways to coax a performance out of the 3-year-old. To get a shot of Guffey reacting to the aliens first approaching the Guiler house, Spielberg slowly unwrapped a present for the young actor just off camera, making him smile. Guffey even exclaims “Toys! Toys!” in the final take.

To get the boy to react to the aliens offscreen, Spielberg had Guffey walk up to his mark where—unbeknownst to the little actor—two crewmembers were dressed as a gorilla and a clown standing behind cardboard blinds. When Guffey entered the kitchen, Spielberg dropped the first blind revealing the clown to scare him, and then dropped the other blind to reveal the gorilla, which scared him even more. The gorilla then took off his mask, revealing the film’s makeup man, Bob Westmoreland, who Guffey recognized, causing him to laugh and smile in the final take.


Spielberg originally toyed with the idea of using computer generated images to create the aliens and their ships, even going so far as to have animator Colin Cantwell create a CGI test of three UFOs floating over a stadium. The single-shot test, which took three weeks to complete and was one of the first computer generated images ever created for a film, proved to be unfeasible for the whole movie—so the idea was dropped.


Spielberg wanted the aliens to be non-human beings that glided instead of walked, and he had a weird idea to pull it off: An orangutan dressed in a specially-made suit. For a screen test, the production team outfitted an orangutan in grey spandex and strapped it into roller skates. The orangutan immediately took off the skates and crawled to its owner, so a full test couldn’t be completed, and the team scrapped the idea. The majority of the small aliens in the final movie were played by local elementary school girls from Mobile in specially made grey suits and masks who were heavily backlit to create the final alien silhouette effect.


Columbia Pictures

To create the alien who bids farewell using the musical hand signals at the end of the film, Spielberg enlisted the help of Italian special effects artist Carlo Rambaldi, who designed a fully articulated steel, aluminum, and fiberglass animatronic puppet that Spielberg nicknamed “Puck.” Puck’s expressions were based on photos of Guffey. The puppet was operated by a crew of seven puppeteers, with Spielberg himself controlling the final articulation before the alien leaves to go to the mothership.

Puck would help inspire E.T. after Spielberg asked himself, “What if this little guy didn’t get back on the mothership?” Rambaldi would also go on to design the character of E.T.


Spielberg and his buddy George Lucas both had new movies coming out in 1977; Lucas’s was a little movie called Star Wars. Lucas thought his ramshackle space movie wouldn’t make back its budget, and he knew his friend’s new movie would break box office records just like Jaws had done, so he offered Spielberg a friendly wager. Both agreed to give the other 2.5 percent of the profits of their respective films. Lucas grossly underestimated his movie, which went on to become the second highest grossing movie of all time if adjusted for inflation (in comparison, Close Encounters is #71). The difference ended up being $40 million.


Spielberg wanted to release Close Encounters in the summer of 1978, which would have given him ample time to edit the film and finish its special effects—but Columbia Pictures, which was going through major financial troubles, insisted he have it ready for a November 1977 release, leaving the director with a final cut on a movie he didn’t feel was completely ready. 

Three years later, the company allowed Spielberg to “finish” the movie under one condition: That he show the inside of the mothership, which would give the studio’s marketing department an angle to sell this new version. The director capitulated, adding new scenes and cutting others to create a “Special Edition.” The director was unhappy with the scene, though, and later cut it for the Collector's Edition home video release.

ADDITIONAL SOURCES:Blu-ray special features; Close Encounters of the Third Kind: The Making of Steven Spielberg’s Classic FilmClose Encounters of the Third Kind Diary.

Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library
10 Treasures From the New York Academy of Medicine Library
A urine wheel from Fasciculus Medicinae
A urine wheel from Fasciculus Medicinae
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

Tucked away on a side street near Central Park, the New York Academy of Medicine Library is one of the most significant historical medical libraries in the world. Open to the public by appointment since the 19th century, its collection includes 550,000 volumes on subjects ranging from ancient brain surgery to women's medical colleges to George Washington's dentures. A few weeks ago, Mental Floss visited to check out some of their most fascinating items connected to the study of anatomy. Whether it was urine wheels or early anatomy pop-up books, we weren't disappointed.


The Fasciculus Medicinae is a compilation of Greek and Arabic texts first printed in Venice in 1491. While it covers a variety of topics including anatomy and gynecology, the book begins with the discipline considered most important for diagnosing all medical issues at the time: uroscopy (the study of urine). The NYAM Library's curator, Anne Garner, showed us the book's urine wheel, which once had the various flasks of urine colored in to help aid physicians in their diagnosis. Each position of the wheel corresponded to one of the four humors, whether it was phlegmatic, choleric, sanguine, or melancholic. The image on the left, Garner explains, "shows the exciting moment where a servant boy brings his flasks to be analyzed by a professor." Other notable images in the book include one historians like to call "Zodiac Man," showing how the parts of the body were governed by the planets, and "Wound Man," who has been struck by every conceivable weapon, and is accompanied by a text showing how to treat each type of injury. Last but not least, the book includes what's believed to be the first printed image of a dissection.


Andreas Vesalius's Fabrica
Frontispiece of Andreas Vesalius's Fabrica
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

Andreas Vesalius, born 1514, was one of the most important anatomists who ever lived. Thanks to him, we moved past an understanding of the human body based primarily on the dissection of animals and toward training that involved the direct dissection of human corpses. The Fabrica was written by Vesalius and published when he was a 28-year-old professor at the University of Padua. Its detailed woodcuts, the most accurate anatomical illustrations up to that point, influenced the depiction of anatomy for centuries to come. "After this book, anatomy divided up into pre-Vesalian and post-Vesalian," Garner says. You can see Vesalius himself in the book's frontispiece (he's the one pointing to the corpse and looking at the viewer). "Vesalius is trying to make a point that he himself is doing the dissection, he believes that to understand the body you have to open it up and look at it," Garner explains.


Flap anatomy from Thomas Geminus's Compendiosa
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

There was no copyright in the 16th century, and Vesalius's works were re-used by a variety of people for centuries. The first was in Flemish printer and engraver Thomas Geminus’s Compendiosa, which borrowed from several of Vesalius's works. The first edition was published in London just two years after the Fabrica. Alongside a beautiful dedication page made for Elizabeth I and inlaid with real gemstones, the book also includes an example of a "flap anatomy" or a fugitive leaf, which was printed separately with parts that could be cut out and attached to show the various layers of the human body, all the way down to the intestines. As usual for the time, the female is depicted as pregnant, and she holds a mirror that says "know thyself" in Latin.


Illustration from William Cowper's The Anatomy of Humane Bodies
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

After Vesalius, there was little new in anatomy texts until the Dutch anatomist Govard Bidloo published his Anatomia humani corporis in 1685. The work was expensive and not much of a financial success, so Bidloo sold excess plates to the English anatomist William Cowper, who published the plates with an English text without crediting Bidloo (a number of angry exchanges between the two men followed). The copperplate engravings were drawn by Gérard de Lairesse, who Garner notes was "incredibly talented." But while the engravings are beautiful, they're not always anatomically correct, perhaps because the relationship between de Lairesse and Bidloo was fraught (Bidloo was generally a bit difficult). The skeleton shown above is depicted holding an hourglass, by then a classic of death iconography.


17th Century Ivory Manikin
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

These exquisite figures are a bit of a mystery: It was originally thought that they were used in doctors’ offices to educate pregnant women about what was happening to their bodies, but because of their lack of detail, scholars now think they were more likely expensive collector's items displayed in cabinets of curiosity by wealthy male physicians. The arms of the manikins (the term for anatomical figures like this) lift up, allowing the viewer to take apart their removable hearts, intestines, and stomachs; the female figure also has a little baby inside her uterus. There are only about 100 of these left in the world, mostly made in Germany, and NYAM has seven.


Illustration from Bernhard Siegfried Albinus's Tabulae Sceleti
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

One of the best-known anatomists of the 18th century, the Dutch anatomist Bernhard Siegfried Albinus went to medical school at age 12 and had a tenured position at the University of Leiden by the time he was 24. The Tabulae Sceleti was his signature work. The artist who worked on the text, Jan Wandelaar, had studied with Gérard de Lairesse, the artist who worked with Bidloo. Wandelaar and Albinus developed what Garner says was a bizarre method of suspending cadavers from the ceiling in the winter and comparing them to a (very cold and naked) living person lying on the floor in the same pose. Albinus also continued the dreamy, baroque funerary landscape of his predecessors, and his anatomy is "very, very accurate," according to Garner.

The atlas also features an appearance by Clara, a celebrity rhinoceros, who was posed with one of the skeletons. "When Albinus is asked why [he included a rhinoceros], he says, 'Oh, Clara is just another natural wonder of the world, she's this amazing creation,' but really we think Clara is there to sell more atlases because she was so popular," Garner says.


Circus performer Georg Constantin as depicted in Ferdinand Hebra's dermatological atlas
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

By the mid-19th century, dermatology had started to emerge as its own discipline, and the Vienna-based Ferdinand Hebra was a leading light in the field. He began publishing this dermatological atlas in 1856 (it appeared in 10 installments), featuring chromolithographs that showed different stages of skin diseases and other dermatological irregularities.

"While some of the images are very disturbing, they also tend to adhere to Victorian portrait conventions, with very ornate hair, and [subjects] looking off in the distance," Garner says. But one of the most famous images from the book has nothing to do with disease—it's a depiction of Georg Constantin, a well-known Albanian circus performer in his day, who was covered in 388 tattoos of animals, flowers, and other symbols. He travelled throughout Europe and North America, and was known as "Prince Constantine" during a spell with Barnum's Circus. (The image is also available from NYAM as a coloring sheet.)


19th century Obstetrical Pocket Phantom
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

Obstetrical phantoms, often made of cloth, wood, or leather, were used to teach medical students about childbirth. This "pocket phantom" was originally published in Germany, and Garner explains that because it was made out of paper, it was much cheaper for medical students. The accompanying text, translated in Philadelphia, tells how to arrange the phantom and describes the potential difficulties of various positions.


Image from Robert Dickinson's Birth Atlas
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

Robert Dickinson was a Brooklyn gynecologist, early birth control advocate, and active member of NYAM. His Birth Atlas is illustrated with incredibly lifelike terracotta models created by New Jersey sculptor Abram Belskie. The models were exhibited at the 1939 New York World's Fair, where they became incredibly popular, drawing around 700,000 people according to Garner. His depictions "are very beautiful and serene, and a totally different way of showing fetal development than anything that had come before," Garner notes.


The Bodyscope
Courtesy New York Academy of Medicine Library

This midcentury cardboard anatomy guide contains male and female figures as well as rotating wheels, called volvelles, that can be turned to display details on different parts of the body as well as accompanying explanatory text. The Bodyscope is also decorated with images of notable medical men—and "wise" sayings about God's influence on the body.


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