Station Eleven

First, kill all the actors!  Didn't Shakespeare write that?  Maybe I'm getting that confused with lawyers.  Too bad there is no such thing as the Internet where a simple search can render your results in less than half a second.  In Station Eleven there is no Internet.  Argghh!  I cannot imagine.  We all know a couple of old people that don't use it much and it's soooo weird.  When you talk to them you feel like saying, What's wrong with you?  You talk weird. The Internet is like my bonus brain. BRAIN!

Station Eleven sounds like it would be outer-space Sci-Fi but its more dystopian Sci-Fi and it's very good.  Shakespeare comes up in this novel quite a bit. And actors, and killing too. No lawyers, but some musicians.  Kill all the flutists! That doesn't seem right. Although I could use a flute as a weapon, but I am much more comfortable with an oboe.

Wait, I remember time without the Internet where unanswered trivia debates were settled by feats of strength and my spelling mistakes exposed me as the idiot that I am.  I suppose I could survive without it but I'm really hoping I never have to find out.  Also, I like electricity and clean water and not getting ambushed and killed.

Drinks: God, without the Internet--what else is there? A future dystopian hot summer deserves a super refreshing drink. Paloma: 1/4 cup grapefruit juice, 1 tablespoon lime juice, 1 teaspoon sugar, 1/4 cup tequila 1/4 cup club soda.  First, rim your glass with some grapefruit juice and salt. Combine the grapefruit juice, lime juice and sugar in a glass and stir until dissolved. Stir in tequila and add ice top with the club soda. Garnish with a grapefruit wedge.