They Don't Want You To Read

Oh, hey guys. Didn't see you come in. I'm James Corbett of The Corbett Report, coming to you from the sunny climes of western Japan in July of 2026. Welcome to episode 506 of The Corbett Report. They don't want you to read.

And as you might be able to guess from a title like that, yes, this is a story about our accelerating descent down the slippery slope of idiocracy and towards the nadir of 21st century society. Post-literacy. So do you remember the story of the Library of Alexandria? You know, the famed repository of all human knowledge and ancient wisdom that was famously destroyed by Julius Caesar in his siege of the city in 48 BC? Well, like most famous stories in history, that one too is mostly wrong. So do you know the real story of the Library of Alexandria? And do you know what that story teaches us about the real value of the library? Well, stick around. At the end of today's episode, I'm gonna tell you that story. But first things first, come with me. I have something to show you on the bookshelf. All right, where is it? Here we go. All right, listen to this.

"The universe, which others call the library, is composed of an indefinite, perhaps an infinite number of hexagonal galleries with enormous ventilation shafts in the middle, encircled by very low railings. From any hexagon, the upper or lower stories are visible interminably. The distribution of the galleries is invariable. Twenty shelves, five long shelves per side, cover all sides except two. Their height, which is that of each floor, scarcely exceeds that of an average librarian. One of the free sides gives upon a narrow entranceway, which leads to another gallery, identical to the first, and all the others. To the left and to the right of the entranceway are two miniature rooms. One allows standing room for sleeping. The other, the satisfaction of fecal necessities. Through this section passes the spiral staircase, which plunges down into the abyss and rises up to the heights. In the entranceway hangs a mirror, which faithfully duplicates appearances. People are in the habit of inferring from this mirror that the library is not infinite. If it really were, why this illusory duplication? I prefer to dream that the polished surfaces feign and promise infinity."

Now, hopefully you recognize that as the opening passage of Borges' The Library of Babel. And I say hopefully you recognize it because I hope you remember that I did cover it in a previous edition of Film, Literature, and the New World Order. Link in the show notes if you don't recall that episode of the podcast. But yes, if you're going to talk about the value of reading, I think any such exploration would be incomplete without a word from Jorge Luis Borges. He's probably the most inveterate reader amongst all writers of the 20th century. I always think of reading and of writing in terms of happiness. If you don't feel happy when you're reading or when you're writing, or if you don't feel greatly moved, then you're not really reading or writing. The whole thing is merely reading, I mean, for examination marks, and that, of course, I won't say that way madness lies, but that way dullness lies.

Are you really saying that all writers should enjoy? Are you saying that writers should enjoy writing? Well, of course they should. At least I do. I mean, I have to toil, I have to work, but at the same time I'm enjoying it. It's not a problem. I could have chosen that literary faith for myself. I don't know about you, but I could listen to Borges speak, or more to the point, read his writing for hours and hours. But it does raise the question, what is the value of reading? Why should the writer or the reader be happy in their task? Well, let me answer that question by countering it with another question. Do you think I can adequately explain that in an audio-visual medium like this? What if there is some essence of information that cannot be adequately conveyed in this medium in which I am talking to you? What if it could only be conveyed in the linearity of the printed page? Hmm. An interesting idea, worthy of further exploration. And. I am tempted to start quoting from this book, but I fear that I will lose the very audience that I am trying to reach with this podcast if I get into such a dense tome. So let's start out with one that's a little bit easier and more entertaining to read, but still that makes important points.

This is called Amusing Ourselves to Death. It's by Neil Postman. I have referenced it many times in the past. If you haven't read it yet, why not? It's not a voluminous read and it's relatively easy to read. And it makes some important points, like this one. "What is television? What kinds of conversations does it permit? What are the intellectual tendencies it encourages? What sort of culture does it produce? American television is indeed a beautiful spectacle, a visual delight pouring forth thousands of images on any given day. The average length of a shot on network television is only 3.5 seconds, so that the eye never rests, always has something new to see. Moreover, television offers viewers a variety of subject matter, requires minimal skills to comprehend it, and is largely aimed at emotional gratification. Even commercials, which some regard as an annoyance, are exquisitely crafted, always pleasing to the eye and accompanied by exciting music. There is no question but that the best photography in the world is presently seen on television commercials. American television, in other words, is devoted entirely to supplying its audience with entertainment. But what I am claiming here is not that television is entertaining, but that it has made entertainment itself the natural format for the representation of all experience. Our television set keeps us in constant communion with the world, but it does so with a face whose smiling countenance is unalterable. The problem is not that television presents us with entertaining subject matter, but that all subject matter is presented as entertaining, which is another issue altogether. Entertainment is the supra-ideology of all discourse on television. No matter what is depicted, or from what point of view, the overarching presumption is that it is here for our amusement and pleasure. That is why, even on news shows which provide us daily with fragments of tragedy and barbarism, we are urged by the newscasters to join them tomorrow. What for? One would think that several minutes of murder and mayhem would suffice as material for a month of sleepless nights. We accept the newscaster's invitation because we know that the news is not to be taken seriously. That is all in fun, so to say. Everything about a news show tells us this. The good looks and amiability of the cast, their pleasant banter, the exciting music that opens and closes the show, the vivid film footage, the attractive commercials. All these and more suggest that what we have just seen is no cause for weeping. A news show, to put it plainly, is a format for entertainment, not for education, reflection, or catharsis. And we must not judge too harshly those who have framed it in this way. They are not assembling the news to be read or broadcasting it to be heard. They are televising the news to be seen. They must follow where their medium leads. There is no conspiracy here, no lack of intelligence, only a straightforward recognition that good television has little to do with what is good about exposition or other forms of verbal communication, but everything to do with what the pictorial images look like. The medium is the message, one might say."

And others have said that in the past. But it's an incredibly important point, and that passage was obviously written by Neil Postman in the 1980s and was talking about the dominant cultural form of communication in that time, the television. But who could doubt that if Neil Postman was still with us in 2026, he would be saying substantially the same thing about YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok. Yes, of course, certain media convey information in different ways. In fact, not just convey information, but shape that in a particular direction. It is impossible to have deep and reflective moments of catharsis simply watching images on a screen. We relate to the experience of life itself differently through the printed word, than we do in the flash and bang of moving images.

So how could I ever possibly truly express the depth of any of these books in a format like this? It's something that occurs to me all the time when I am creating this podcast. For example, case in point, that clip of Borges that we just watched was not the clip of Borges that I thought was most pertinent to today's conversation. It wasn't the one that I thought really got to the heart of the matter in the most deep way, but it was the one that was televised. It came from a television interview, so of course it suggested itself to me. Well, this is the way to keep people's attention. There's a moving image attached to this. The clip that I actually wanted to play is just an audio recording of Borges speaking. And yes, I could get Brock to pretty it up with maybe B-roll footage of Borges and or a picture of the cover of the book, some subtitles, something going on to distract the mind while Borges is talking. But doesn't that defeat the point of a clip like that in the first place? These are the types of considerations that you as a viewer might not understand are going on, but they are going on in every single video you are consuming. Instead of every book you are reading.

So it occurs to me. That, for example, as I've expressed in the past, every time I do a major documentary production, I follow it up with a reading list. And for example, I've expressed, you cannot possibly understand the World War I conspiracy from watching the World War I conspiracy. You get to dip your toes into that material. But in order to understand it, you need to read all of the books that I've recommended on that topic. Or if you want to understand False Flags, The Secret History of Al-Qaeda, you have to read the entire shelf of books that are on my bookshelf devoted to that topic in particular, and likely many more that could and should be read on that subject. And then you start to engage with the material. But if you just watch the documentaries, if you just are consuming videos, I think you're not getting to the heart of the matter. And beyond that particular problem is the larger problem. Do you think that a nation, a society, an international civilization of people who have forgotten the importance of reading will be able to actually stand up to the new world order? Do you think we will ever overthrow the tyrants with YouTube videos and TikTok reels? I, for one, don't think so. But if you don't believe me, well, take a look at this.

This is a very, very odd place to be. Let's... Oh, there we go. That's better. All right. Well, where were we? Oh, yes. Take a look at this. This is an article by Hannah Frankman Hood, and it's called "How Colonial America's Literacy Rates Shaped the Revolution, and Why America Has Failed So Miserably at Teaching Literacy Ever Since." And it starts with an important observation, namely, "Revolutionary era America was an unusual place, unusually rebellious, unusually galvanized, unusually democratic, and perhaps, most importantly, unusually literate. When copies of the Declaration of Independence were sent around the colonies that July, most average citizens could read them. Among the white male population, 70% were literate. In New England, that number was even higher. Roughly 80% of adult men could read, and estimates placed the female literacy rate somewhere between 45 and 67%. A modern reader raised on public schools and the assumption that every American can read as a birthright might not be impressed, but that number is actually equivalent to America's literacy rates today. 21% of the American adult population is still functionally illiterate, despite nearly a trillion dollars of annual spend and up to 13 years of legally mandated school attendance. Colonial America's high literacy rate was shocking for its time, arguably a cause, not just a correlation, of the Revolutionary War and the innovative society that followed."

An incredibly important point, but she goes on to make some other important points. One, the American colony's high literacy rate was driven not by aristocratic schooling or government mandates, but by Protestant theology, which believed every Christian was personally responsible before God for understanding and abiding by scripture, and therefore needed to be able to read their own Bible. And also, So more practically, many of the settlers and frontiersmen of the day were landowners, which required documents to be read. So reading became an imperative frontier skill and families acquired it and passed it on to their children. This was fundamentally different from anything that had occurred in the West, at least since the time of ancient Athens. And she goes on to talk about what you will no doubt know from my exploration of the media matrix in my online mass media history course. Gutenberg invented the printing press in 1440, and suddenly books were accessible and dropped to a fraction of their former cost and could be mass produced. And actually the entire American experiment was the offspring of the printing press going back to the protestant faith that drove hundreds of thousands of religious refugees to America and then continuing on with that revolution being, propelled by writing as I have discussed before Thomas Paine and Common Sense. It was a best seller the likes of which can hardly be understood today that truly changed the mindset of the average colonist into that of an American, an independent, a revolutionary. That was done through writing, through reading.

As Hannah Frankmanhood goes on to say, "One of the most interesting parts of the whole American colonial story is that an entire population of primarily low-class immigrants and subsistence farmers maintained literacy rates that were in their own right revolutionary, and which to this day large educational systems with the full weight of government behind them struggle to surpass." And she makes an important point to the would-be naysayers. "One could object that colonial literacy meant the ability to sign your name, not the comprehension standard reading is measured by today. But the book sales of the era and the required reading levels to consume those books tell a different story. Take as example, Thomas Paine's 1776 pamphlet, Common Sense, which reportedly sold over 100,000 copies in the first three months alone to a population of 2.5 million. Common Sense is not light reading and includes such words as timorous. Consanguinity, consanguinity. I don't even get to say that word very much. Extirpate and pecuniary, at least one of which nearly every college graduate you know today would likely have to look up. And yet Paine was writing in intentionally plain language compared to the average political pamphlet of the era. He wrote Common Sense for the ordinary farmer and tradesperson, not the educated class, which in itself illustrates how much higher the literacy baseline in colonial America was than it is today."

And she goes on to talk about the schooling aspects of this and how we arrived at the crisis point of 2026. In 1983, the National Commission on Excellence in Education under President Reagan warned in its report, A Nation at Risk, that "the educational foundations of our society are presently being eroded by a rising tide of mediocrity that threatens our very future as a nation and a people." And that was back in 1983. Of course, after some concerted effort, government effort and intervention, literacy rates climbed slightly, but in the 1990s and the early 2000s, scores began dropping again. Then there was 2001's No Child Left Behind and 2010's Common Core. But those interventions, surprisingly, didn't work. Reading scores have continued to drop in the following decades at the most alarming rate in American history. And she goes on to talk about that phenomenon and why it is so important. And this comes from someone who styles herself as a renegade educator and a homeschool advocate. So I think the point is well made that, yes, we do not require a massive national government run system in order to teach children how not to read these days. No, literacy is perfectly acquirable by tradespersons and farmers and rural folk, and anyone who is sufficiently motivated to read will be able to read. Why read when you can scroll?

And that is the point of this article. It just recently came out from The Atlantic. "The End of Reading Is Here. Optimists once believed that universal literacy was inevitable. Now it seems that the age of reading might be a short anomaly in human history." And this is worth a read in its entirety, but I'll just highlight some of the important parts here where, for example, the author here talks about how: "A National Endowment for the Arts survey found that fewer than half of all adults reported having read a book of any kind in 2022. Only 38% read a novel or short story. A study analyzing 236,000 responses to the American Time Use survey found that the proportion of Americans who read for pleasure on any given day fell from 28% in 2004, to 16% in 2023. The study looked at people who had read a book, magazine, or newspaper, listened to an audiobook, or read an e-book. Gambling has become a more common leisure activity than reading a book. Last year, 57% of Americans placed a bet. The decline in reading cuts across age groups, gender, and education levels. Even the demographics that traditionally read the most, retirees, women, and college graduates, have seen a collapse. The books that people do read are simpler than they used to be. New York Times bestsellers today have sentences that are about one-third shorter than they were a century ago. Longer sentences aren't inherently better, but their former ubiquity suggests an age when Americans had the inclination and ability to read serious works of literature. In 1958, the English translation of Boris Pasternak's Dr. Zhivago was the best-selling novel of the year. According to Publishers Weekly, Pasternak writes in long, complex sentences. 'On that warm gray morning in the mountains, Zhivago felt sorry for the Tsar, was disturbed at the thought that such diffident reserve and shyness could be the essential characteristics of an oppressor that a man so weak could imprison, hang, or pardon.'" Is that even so complex a sentence? Anyway, maybe that's a reflection of where we are.

In 2024, in a national test, just 35% of high school seniors were proficient at skills such as analyzing complex fictional themes and evaluating the effectiveness of an author's argument. About the same number scored below basic, meaning that they may struggle to draw conclusions from concepts explicitly included in a text or to use context clues to determine the meaning of an unknown word. Adult literacy scores have also dropped. Nearly 30% of American adults cannot paraphrase or make inferences from a multi-page text. In 2017, that number was less than 20%. It dropped 10% in less than a decade. The author goes on to talk about Margaret Rennick's Harvard assistant director for humanities and social sciences support who, found herself having to explain to students at America's most elite university taking a course in a discipline rooted in written observation, argumentation and analysis, that excerpts and summaries cannot capture the depth and sophistication of a complete primary text, which I guess will come as a shock to those growing up with the AI summary of texts. Even AI summary of emails that people are relying on. Who has time to read an email?

The written word is fundamentally different from oral language. Writing detaches the message from the messenger, allowing for a more dispassionate spread of information than was possible in oral societies. Because writing a phrase takes longer than speaking it, writing forces the author to slow down and reflect. Written language tends to employ more complex sentence structures and vocabulary than spoken language. And unlike speech, it doesn't disappear into the ether. Readers can return to a text and plummet for new meaning and understanding. Because writing endures, individuals can temporarily forget what they've written, but trust that it won't be lost forever. This frees up the mind to think of new ideas and make new discoveries.

In 1962, Marshall McLuhan, the patron saint of media theorists, predicted that the Western world would become what he called post-literate. In The Gutenberg Galaxy, published that year, he suggested that such an age had already begun, that electronic media were already supplanting the written word. At the time, 90% of homes had a television, compared with 9% only a decade earlier. Television was becoming America's main source of news. The average household spent more than five hours a day in front of the TV set. When people do read, they might find that they're absorbing less information. That's especially true if they read on their phone. The endless scroll, hyperlinks, and notifications invite surface-level reading with constant invitations to look elsewhere. How many people have paused this video and or just flipped off to check their email or something else while they're listening? Studies have shown that people comprehend less when reading on a digital device than on paper, perhaps because of all these distractions. Devoting extended, undivided attention to a text, can now feel like too much to ask.

In the recent past, people were at least reading something online. But that's changing fast. Social media, once mainly text-based, has been overrun with short-form videos. TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and Instagram Reels dominate the attention economy, especially among young people. According to a recent data analysis by Gene Twenge, a psychology professor who studies generational change. By eighth grade, the average kid spends four and a half hours a day on social media. For much of that time, it appears, they're watching videos, often at double speed. Yay. Reading books is a workout for the attention span. The more you read, the easier it is to read, and the more you're rewarded with new understanding. Eventually, the process is more pleasurable than it is challenging. But as with physical exercise, the converse is true as well. The less you read, the more difficult it is to read, and the rockier the path, to acquiring knowledge.

All right, there's much more in this lengthy article that I invite you to explore, at your leisure and in your own time, but I think you get the point. The point being that reading, of course, is not just something that is inherently good in and of itself for wishy-washy reasons or because your parents told you. No! Reading is essential to thinking, to being able to construct and hold and analyze and observe and pick apart detailed, complex sentences that build into paragraphs that, become entire theses. And if we cannot follow that train of thought, because we are getting off at every single station that presents itself along the way in this digital attention span economy, then how will we ever be able to... Whoa, sorry. What were we talking about? I got to go check TikTok. No, a population that cannot read is a population that cannot think. And a population that cannot think is a population that cannot fight. And a population that cannot fight is not a population that is going to win the war against the global technocracy. The global technocrats are a lot of things, but they are not stupid. And they do know how to read and write.

All right, so where does that bring us? I think at this point in our exploration, now you're ready to hear the real story of the Library of Alexandria. Come with me.

All right, this is something that I wrote, appropriately enough, with pen and paper, and I'm going to break all the rules of audio-visual medium presentation that I taught you about today in the most unexciting, textual way possible. Are you ready to read with me? This is called "The Library of Alexandria Is Not on Fire."

"The Lighthouse of Alexandria, built during the reign of Ptolemy II in the third century BC, may have been immortalized as one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, but students of the esoteric know that the real wonder of Ptolemy II's reign was the library. Conceived by Demetrius of Phalarum, designed by Ptolemy I, constructed by Ptolemy II, the Library of Alexandria was the most remarkable, the most impressive, the most tragic library in history. Did Xenodotus of Ephesus while away the hours perusing the original manuscripts of Homer in some nook or cranny of that marvelous monument? Did Eratosthenes of Cyrene calculate the circumference of the earth from the shade of those hallowed halls? Did Aristarchus of Samothrace sharpen the sword of his immense intellect by cutting the first poetic lines while Hero of Alexandria distracted him with the infernal rattle of the world's first steam engine? Thereby no doubt igniting the first round in the never-ending fight between the library shishers and the library loudmouths. Maybe. And what scrolls precisely were to be found on those shelves? What obscure gems of esoterica, what wondrous tales of the ancient world, methodically captured and dutifully copied from every passing ship to alight in Alexandria's harbor, were stored in its archive. The true history of the antediluvian world, the account of the Nephilim and other rare tales long since forgotten or methodically expunged from the historical record. We know of the lost plays of Sophocles, Aeschylus, Euripides, but what of those works of literature, astronomy, medicine, philosophy that we don't know we lost? Did the hidden parts of the library contain works of magic, spells, ancient and arcane knowledge of gods and divine powers and zero-point energy? Did those scrolls tell us about the building of the pyramids, of Gobekli Tepe, of the Sea Peoples, of the Flood? Maybe. And how many scrolls were lost anyway? 40,000? 400,000? 700,000? Maybe? Of course, we don't know the details of the library and the secrets of its shelves. That's why it haunts us. Upon the blank slate of that mythical repository, we can project anything we want. The library is not that thing out there in Alexandria at a given point of time. It is in here, in our imagination, populated by our dreams and our nightmares, carrying our hopes, reflecting our fears. But what of its fate? What do we make of the great conflagration that sent this hard-won knowledge up in columns of smoke, back to the heavens from which all such knowledge derives? Here again, we find more of projection and fantasy than of... Of past and facticity? I have a hard time reading my scrawl here. Indeed, as it turns out, the various rumors of the library's death have been greatly exaggerated. Julius Caesar lighting the library ablaze during his siege of Alexandria in 48 BC. Yes, his soldiers seem to have set some ships on fire in the city's port. And yes, the fire seems to have spread to part of the city. It may have destroyed one of the library's storehouses, but not the library itself. Otherwise, how could we explain Strabo's account of his visit to the library some three decades after it was supposedly destroyed? Or how could we explain the mind-boggling output of Didymus, Calcentrus, the most prolific writer in antiquity, responsible for some 4,000 books, and known as Bibliolathus, the book forgetter, because even he couldn't remember all the books he had written. If this first century Alexandrian did not have access to the resources of the library. Perhaps the culprit was Theodosius I, then. Maybe this Christian Roman emperor, having ordered the closing of all pagan temples, indirectly caused the destruction of the Serapium, an adjunct of the library that had been dedicated to the god Serapis. But this story was largely put forward by Edward Gibbons, whose historical project seems to have been to blame the Christians for everything, and few historians these days take this account of the library's downfall seriously. Ah, I know. It was Umar ibn al-Qatib, the second Rashidun caliph, who, after conquering Alexandria with his Arab army, gave the fateful order to his conquering general. 'If those books are in agreement with the Quran, we have no need of them. And if these are opposed to the Quran, destroy them.' And it is said that the general gave the order to fuel the fires that heated the city's public baths with the books from the library, and that these books kept the fires burning for six months. But here, too, the fantastic pathos of this terrible tragedy is undermined by reality. The first account of Umar's outrageous command did not appear until 300 years after the event itself, and even then, they were only recorded by Bishop Gregory Barr Hebraeus, whose stock in trade was blaming historical atrocities on Muslims without supporting documentation. No, the truth about the great library's fate is so incongruent with our phantasmagoric fantasies of fearsome flames and singed scrolls that our imagination refuses to accept it. You see, the Library of Alexandria did not burn. It was not consumed in one glorious conflagration. The wisdom of the ages was not set ablaze, and the ashes of that wisdom was not scattered by the Egyptian winds. The library was lost to neglect. It didn't need to burn. The icy tendrils of disrepair and the frosty touch of disinterest accomplished what no inferno could ever achieve. It's comforting to believe that the library was engulfed in flames. We can imagine the scribes and scholars and students of the ancient world rending their garments and weeping and gnashing their teeth as they watched the collected knowledge of the world go up in smoke. At least they cared. At least they knew the value of what they lost. But the alternative, the alternative is too ghastly to contemplate. Not a collective cry of despair at the loss of this wisdom, but a cool shrug of disinterest as the library collects dust, sprouts cobwebs, gradually disintegrates. As you might have guessed by now, history is never about history. It's about us. And the story of the Library of Alexandria is about us, too. After all, we are being told that we have reached the end of the age of reading. We have entered the post-literate society. We no longer read books, wrestle with ideas, or contemplate the great works of the ages. Instead, we engage in the infinite scroll. We read tweets and browse reels and view TikToks. We chase the ever-diminishing high of the evanescent dopamine rush as we get further and further away from what it means to be human. The modern library of Alexandria is disappearing before our eyes. But it is not being consumed by flames. It's crumbling into disrepair as we scroll on to the next post. So this is the way the library ends. This is the way the library ends. This is the way the library ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper. No, the library is not on fire. It's worse than that. It's decaying, decomposed. The books yellowed and worn and tattered until finally they disintegrate. And no one even cares. Do you care?"

If so, you can join me in fighting back against this post-literate nightmare. I'll be hosting another one of those Independent Media Alliance slash Solutions Watch roundtables later this week. And we're going to be discussing the topic of books that inspire. And each panel member will be talking about a book that has inspired them and why other people should read it. So if you are a Corbett Report member, you can join the panel and recommend your own favorite book. That conversation will be taking place this coming Wednesday, July 29th at 7 p.m. Eastern Time. That's 7 p.m. Toronto slash New York Time. So check your time zone carefully. But the connection details of that live conversation are in the bottom of this weekend's subscriber newsletter. So if you're a Corbett Report member, just sign into the site and scroll to the bottom of that post for that link. If you're a member and you don't know how to do that, just let me know. I'll be happy to help. If you aren't a member, why don't you join the conversation? You can become a member for as little as $3 a month at corbettreport.com/members.

Also, I will be continuing the Film Literature New World Order series, and this time we're going to be reading Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum. So I hope you will be able to join me for this fascinating conversation, which, again, will be held live, and we'll be taking your comments and questions on this interesting tome. So if you again are a Corbett Report member and want to join in on that conversation, it's going to be held this coming Sunday, August 2nd at 8 p.m. New York slash Toronto Time. Check your time zone accordingly. And the deep the link for that conversation will be in this weekend's, this coming weekend's, open thread. So once again, you'll have to sign into the site as a Corbett Report member and find the link there. Again, if you have any questions about any of this connection shenanigans, just let me know. I'll be happy to help. But I hope you will be there to fight against the post-literacy of this world at the end of the age of reading. Because without books, without our ability to read, contemplate, engage with deep material, without the ability to concentrate on a book, do we really think we're going to defeat the new world order? Let's get real.

Anyway, I hope today's podcast has given you some food for thought and perhaps even encouraged you to pick up a book yourself. But in the meantime, if you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do. Take care.

The Deep State. False Flags. 9-11 Truth. The Federal Reserve. Secret Wars and Hidden Histories. Fake News. Medical Martial Law. Ceaseless Propaganda. James Corbett. Repertage. Essays on the New World Order. Available where books are sold. Until they're not.