I want to welcome everyone back to part 14 of my reading of the Camp of the Saints by Jean Raspel.

I wanted to remind you about the Thought Crime Syndicate episode.

We're actually getting ready to do another one one but if you haven't checked it out

it's on gumroad you can go to free man beyond the wall.com forward slash t c.s

dot crime syndicate and there's links to be able to C.S. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C. C paywall because it got pretty spicy and it's almost three hours of us reading

uh... laryngeos israel the psychopathic state

so uh... yep

and let's get at it we are there, there's only 51 chapters in this book, so I think we're going to do 39 and 40 today.

This might be a little bit longer episode and yeah getting to the end.

Gotta figure out what we're gonna do next.

All right, Chapter 39.

On that Easter Monday morning, the sun rose at 527.

Between the last words of the President of the Republic 10 after midnight and the first rosy

glimmers have dawn on the water, five hours and 17 minutes exactly hung over the west.

No Marcelli had followed the address contrary to custom. custom continued throughout the years for some bizarre reason

despite the droll anachronism of the stirring lyrics mouth by the flabby new breed of

enfond de la Patry, instead in Rougete de Lyle rightful place, more

Mozart.

Just like that, all of which prompted Colonel Jorgas to conclude that France in her panic

was showing a little tact at least and that maybe for all her faintness of heart would loathe herself

less. When man finally conquers his false self-image,

be it only a dim and time-worn reflection

...