If I was Stranded in an Island

... or if I found myself the only one left in this planet.

... or if I accidentally time-travelled back in time to the medieval ages.

... or if I found myself suddenly facing a permanent slow food movement along with loss of advanced medicine as we know it and surviving a socio-political breakdown à la Mad Max.

Sure, I've imagined these scenarios. I have even been forced to sit through one or two conversations about post-apocalyptic survival. One camp wants to create their own munitions depot in their backyard. The other wants to put more emphasis in food storage and preparing now with a regimen of iodide anti-radiation pills.

I prefer to find that third camp–the one that has managed to salvage the search engine servers and kept them going. Presumably, they're also the smartest. That said, I hope to be left in this planet with the internet still intact, and travel back in time with my laptop in the hopes that I can still get five-bar-signal from those satellites in space.

It should be obvious. Guns kill people and I don't care what the NRA says. My cooking methods run less by memory and more along the lines of semi-homemade. First aid to me means a trip to the local clinic or someone bleeds to death. So when the shit hits the fan, and I have to quickly decide if I am going to join those who duck and run for cover because they don't know what to do or join those who take away your cover because they don't know what to do, I'd just as soon make the choice knowing that I have Google on my side–better yet, accessible through my brain.