‘In the southwest corner of Alabama there is a museum dedicated entirely to the geefer, an imaginary organ in the human body that material there suggests is sometimes also called the Magda Gland. ‘The Geefer Museum’ is one of those destinations that stands out for the sheer amount of thought and money that must have gone into its creation. The complex stands five stories tall and its central chamber boasts a massive, walk-through model of a human’s lower torso where the geefer and its adjacent organs are supposedly arranged.
Doctors, or people who claim to be doctors online, have pointed out several inaccuracies with the display- not just the inclusion of the non-existent geefer, but also the overall arrangement of the represented organs. The museum’s informational booths and pamphlets cite very, very old sources, some that date back to the dark ages and here, historians (or people who claim to be historians on the internet) have also pointed out that many of its ancient sources simply do not exist either. Residents of the dark ages got a lot wrong, it would appear, but even they cannot be blamed for the imaginary geefer.
Notable, too, is the clinic in the back of the museum which offers a service called ‘Geefer Restoration,’ for which they ask a $1000 donation but will begrudgingly be performed for free if a visitor is of a lower income bracket and is in desperate need of their geefer.’
I suspect ‘The Geefer Museum’ has seen better times and that those times were before the internet made it fairly easy to debunk much of what the museum insists is true about the human body. It is wildly built, that’s certain, but its fiberglass models are beginning to chip and crack and its placards are dusty in a way that suggests long neglect. Someone still cares enough about ‘The Geefer Museum’ to keep the lights on, but it appears they employ just one man and his job includes ticketing, maintenance, and guide. He performs these duties with no enthusiasm and I am left to wander the museum on my own.
Stand outs include the central chamber, where someone with a great deal of talent was once employed to recreate a skewed version of our inner workings. Red liquid sloshes through clean pipes while various organs squelch and gurgle and react to the occasional thrumming of the massive geefer, the unlikely shape of which is a near-perfect pyramid.
There is a room that spends a lot of time detailing the cultural impact of the geefer with circumstantial evidence like the pyramids in Egypt and on the back of the dollar and that, somehow, the Masons are involved in its cover up or potentially its harvesting. The theories become convoluted by the end.
Finally, there is a formaldehyde-smelling room near the end that is lined with jars that seem to contain reclaimed geefers. The signage there never quite explains how the museum was able to collect and display so many human organs, but it does finally make some claims about what the geefer is meant to do and, here, the museum debuts a third name: the fear-heart. If ‘The Geefer Museum’ can be said to have a thesis, it’s something like ‘humans are born with an organ that makes them afraid but a vast conspiracy suppresses or removes that organ in order to control the masses.’
It all approaches but never quite uses the word ‘sheeple’ in its explanation. I leave ‘The Museum of the Geefer’ enlightened, maybe, but not overly concerned.
-traveler
