Not for the faint of heart, or faint of digestive juices. $17 entry fee seemed a bit steep initially, but while it's small, they pack a lot of bang for the buck in each small room, and it starts strong with the serial killers room (I didn't care however for the crass homophobic A-Z serial killer poems, though clearly from another era). I wasn't a fool and kept my phone concealed because dems the rules, but I did sneak a few photos of the shrunken heads, though the photos were fully blocked by the lining of my pants pocket.
I was probably the only person there without goth/metal/punk attire, or a passion or even passing interest for true crime, cults or dead people. But if you have a crush on Charles Manson, morbid fascinations or are just a little sick in the head, this place will leave you happier than a pig in mud. You can watch live surgery and embalming on 1970s educational videos, look at gruesome crime scene photos and read about interesting patents for casket technology, my favorite of which was hands-down the anti-grave robber underground casket torpedo.
After about 90 minutes of engorging my brain with bloody atrocities, sliced open human guts and some very cute Victorian child coffins, I left so dizzy and bewildered that I immediately stumbled from this museum onto a Hollywood celebrity tour, which was a pleasant reminder that someday they will also die. Would not do again but someday I will enthusiastically recommend this to my future 22-year old deadbeat son to get rid of him for a while.